Lise Moen

The power of a Yes!

May 3, 2012

How do you feel when your ideas, suggestions, creative work is received with a: ‘Yes!‘? How do you feel when your ideas, suggestions, or creative work is received with a ‘no‘? Or, more commonly, an overwhelming silence.

Being a “toddler” in terms of my life as a creative, I take great care in providing support for my own ideas, suggestions and creative work. I nurture them into being. Slowly.

For many, many years I lived with no connection to my innate creativity. Something which naturally occur in all human beings. So, I take great care of my own re-discovered creativity. It’s precious. It’s fresh. It’s what brings me joy.

For many, many years I worked in environments where idea support was generally low. The automatic ‘no’ prevailed. Fault-finding and obstacle-raising was the name of the game. To anything new, anything different.

Knowing how ‘no’ feels. Like metal shutters coming down in front of my mind, my heart and my soul to protect, to shield myself.

I choose to say ‘Yes!’ to all ideas, suggestions and creative work I receive. Be they my own or yours.

‘Yes!’ as an immediate and initial response to your suggestions, proposals, ideas, insight , work means the next wave is even more daring, fresh, brilliant.

The wave after that? Blows me away.

And the wave after that? Well, words just doesn’t describe it does it?

Nor any images.

I know it sets me alight. A light you can see in my eyes. Makes me shine. As I know it does to you.

We speak of high-performing teams. I just do not experience it as anything to do with ‘performance’.

It’s more about relaxing into, leaning into each other. Allowing each soul to speak freely and loving.

Effortlessly, the unimagined is created.

…

Now, what will the next wave bring?

Work environments that are dynamic, electric and inspiring?

(i1) feeling rich is being rich in feeling

April 28, 2012

I grew up in poverty. We had little by way of material wealth. Things, clothes, stuff were scarce yet I cannot remember feeling poor. Although eating fried herring was always a challenge until dad removed 95% of the millions of fish bones. I did like fried black pudding sprinkled with sugar, mind. Me and my friends all had clothes our mums had made. The library was free and frequently visited.

There has been times in my life when I would have been considered wealthy. Fairy tale like. Yet, I was feeling poor. Or rather I was poor in feelings.

Recently, I’ve been coming to terms with living simply and very modestly as running my own micro business in these times is about survival.

Discovering that I only feel rich when I am applying my own talents, experiences, skills on something which is at the very edge of my knowledge and understanding has been instrumental in experiencing this as a grounding and a coming home.

An awakening to the reality of what is vital to me to feel alive. And what gives my life meaning.

Standing at the edge of a land called the unknown fills me with the energy to move into motion. Learning moves me through feelings, sensations, emotions, inner states, consciousness and an inner world filled with…

Love, joy, passion, enthusiasm, freedom, empowerment, appreciation, gratitude, playfulness, optimism, trust, intuitive knowing….

Calmness, acceptance, contentment, inner peace, patience, hopefulness, forgiveness, compassion…

Being human also means I experience the full scale of emotions. So…

When boredom, pessimism, frustration, irritation, impatience chime like Big Ben in their regularity, it’s time to get up and move my body about. (And Mittens, the cat runs out of my away.)

When overwhelmed, over-busyness, worry, concern, disappointment shows up, I know it’s time for stillness and rest. Yet, can only find my way to sit down in front of the TV. (Mittens often walks in with a miaow and demands to be stroked. )

(I stay very firmly in-doors with my wallet and my mouth shut when toxic emotions of arrogance, grandiosity, anger, rage, hostility, contempt, envy, jealousy, greed, suspiciousness…seep over the edges. With a large ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign around my neck.)

When guilt, insecurity, unworthiness, self-sacrifice, matyrdom, loneliness, feeling trapped or controlled make their appearance, I sit in the bucket, basin or bath of my own pain and fill it with my own tears. (Mittens quietly lies down next to me.)

When despair, fear and grief turn up, I grope around feeling the brown earth for some firm ground.

Taking small steps beyond my own edges. Being rather than doing.

Choosing to feel. Shifting my vibration. Taking charge of my own energy.

Consciously.

Feeling rich is being rich in feelings.

Feeling my way. Works. For me.

Back in January, I spoke of April as a junction. It is. And was. For me.

What junction have you come to?

ps. The emotional scale is taken from Gill Edwards, “Wild Love. Discover the magical secrets of freedom, joy and unconditional love.”

(h4) Shedding the snakeskin

April 22, 2012

Friday evening and it was the Spring Party at Home House, a Night at the Museum costume party. Here I was with no costume just a snakeskin print dress. People asked me: “Who did you come as?” And I just answered: “Myself”.

I acquired the snakeskin print dress about six weeks ago, and wondered what this was all about. I am not averse to a bit of animal print in my wardrobe. Shoes, bags, a belt, perhaps. A dress? This was very new territory.

Over the past weeks, I’ve been shedding skin. I’ve been shedding the snakeskin called: shy and self conscious.

Over these past weeks, I have been listening to what I say about what I do. My cocktail line. Checking that I am facing forward rather than rambling about my past. Checking how I feel when I say it. As without me promoting myself and this micro business of mine, there ain’t going to be one.

What’s been great is to hear me, see me, feel me be very comfortable with being me. Being real. For the past two years, my question has been: What business are you really in? For the past weeks, there hasn’t been any posed. As a guide on this site. Or in my notebook.

Apart from living with: “I don’t know…” As in “I don’t know what to do.” As in “I don’t know where to start.” As in “I don’t know if…<insert any permutation of deep and dizzying doubts>.”

I’ve been ‘shedding skin’. (Curiously, the dry flaky skin on my face is now starting to improve.)

Yesterday, I found a new one. A new question, I mean.

Urged on by words like :

“What would our days be like if we approached happiness with the urgency and insistence that we give to deadlines and should-dos?”

“How do I want to feel?” As in swapping my to-do list, quarterly objectives and five year goals for a list of how I wanted to feel within myself?

“As a term, success is up there with nice and plastic – it covers just about everything but doesn’t tell you much at all.”

“Beneath successful are likely more poignant emotions that you desire.”

“The moment you say yes to acting on your desire is the real beginning.” (And saying no to all that other stuff.)

“Just notice what sucks with ruthless honesty. Then – and only then – will solutions emerge.” (Not making a living. Yet.)

“Make stuff that feels good to make.” (Yes!)

“Every single one of us is an artist – at something.” (Yup.)

“Being artful is pouring your soul into it.” (Fantastic.)

“When we’re giving our best, we’re artistic.” (Yes!)

“When you’re bringing your whole self to the party, you’re practicing your art form.” (Yes!)

And there is was:

THE QUESTION: “If you knew that your art would support your life, how would you live?”

My answer: I would fill my days doing what I love with people I cherish.

And that very much sums up what I am now actually doing.

So being enthusiastic about what I do is easy and my passion for what I do radiates.

The necessity to put food on the table doing what I do has cured my shyness. I got over being self conscious about self promotion.

Artists sell.

What do you sell?

PS. The words are from: ”The Fire Starter Sessions. A soulful and practical guide to creating success on your own terms.” by Danielle LaPorte.

Eureka! and the delicate quality of essence

April 20, 2012

The teenager and I have been watching a TV series called Eureka! these past months. Eureka! is a town somewhere in the US where anything imaginable is possible. The last episode was aired on the Syfy channel over Easter and finished with a real cliff hanger…

Every episode requires a Eureka! moment by one or the other of the main cast to literally save lives. The town is populated with elite scientists who have multiple PhDs and speak of things which are completely beyond my comprehension.

Yet, the main character is the town sheriff, a regular guy with no scientific background who asks simple questions, makes connections between events and routinely saves the day. Every episode. It’s probably the first time I’ve found myself glued to the TV watching a regular, if not, daily dose of nearly the same drama being played out over and over. TV as a comforter, perhaps?

Sitting on the train into London on Wednesday, I was reading Dan Roam’s “Unfolding the napkin”, when I came across a few words he had penned which for me was a Eureka! moment. That was it. This is (part of) what I’ve been working with. And are working with.

“Everything we can conceive of has qualities. What is it like? What does it feel like? What does it look like? How does it act? These are all qualitative questions. Although these attributes cannot be measured or counted, they are the essence of what makes something itself and not something else.”

WoW. (If you feel like saying ‘huh?’, please do.)

In a footnote he goes on to say: “If that sounds like existential crap, it is. All ‘existential’ means is that something exists, as itself and in its own place. That’s not the kind of description business people usually feel comfortable with, which is too bad, since it is these “qualities” that make one product more appealing than another. Since these qualities can be hard to measure – we don’t frequently see them in business presentations.”

Now, this week has been a week of growing ideas.

If I approached this work from your typical quantitative mindset and looked at aspects of the idea which can be measured and counted ; the ‘how much’ I might as well hang up my tools. (You can approach improvements to existing products in this way, mind.)

Ideas which start as a seed cannot be measured or counted. Gardening ideas into being is literally that. The soil must be fertile. Sufficient light and water must be present. Time and space set aside for the idea to grow into being.

Instead, I approach my work from : what qualities do I wish to conceive? what qualities do I wish to convey? The visceral feeling I wish to convey to you. Gardening an idea into being by attending to feelings is shall we say a delicate matter. It has a certain impermanence. A transient beauty in fragments of moments.

So, I create tangible outputs. There is also an element of performance. Like a play. For you to connect with the essence, you need to feel the feelings. So, I create an experience of the existence of the essence of something ethereal. Now I am starting to sound like the cast in a town called Eureka!

How do you work with the ethereal?

(h3) Breaking new ground

April 18, 2012

I am not sure what came over me but the idea to do something, just anything, with the patch of grass and weeds which my eyes sought out every time I looked outside my kitchen window suddenly seemed feasible.

Spade in hand, I dug into the muddy dusty earth and started to turn it over. I cut underneath the grass and the weeds and found it was relatively easy to remove layers at a time. I was encouraged by the immediate results of my efforts and applied serious elbow grease to clearing part of this patch.

It had long been an eyesore and as a novice gardener, I really wasn’t sure what to do. Or, indeed, whether there was any point in doing anything at all.

Perhaps, that’s the way with all new endeavours?

Some see the patch of land overgrown with dandelions and grass and just let it be. Some see the possibilities.

Interestingly, I had done both.

Earlier this spring, I’d had been breaking new ground in my garden and before doing so had removed masses of wild primulas. These pale yellow, pink and purple small flowers were now replanted into the new flower bed. I have no idea whether they will survive, or even thrive, in this bed. What I do now is I’ll enjoy the view for as long as it lasts.

Doing this broke new ground for me. A reminder to see the possibilities where no one else do. A reminder to use my own capabilities as flowers in the new ground.

What new ground have you been breaking?

(h2) Gardening an idea into being

April 14, 2012

“What are you doing this weekend?”

“A bit of gardening.”

When I answered the question last night, I literally only had in mind the bit of gardening I wanted to do to re-pot a few plants and remove the remaining dead oak leaves.

Sitting by the kitchen table reading the Saturday paper, it occurred to me that this might be a slight underestimation of what I was actually doing there and then. Top of mind was the following projects:

1. Re-positioning of well-established business to give it a fresh edge in today’s competitive environment

2. Messaging for a service offering to nail ‘Why us?’ in language which customers instantly ‘get’ ’cause it’s rooted in their reality

3. Gardening an idea into a concept into a message so it can grow into being as a business

4. Product development around how to nurture collaboration and create the ground for collective innovation

5. Creating a new jewellery brand from a seed of a found image of a sunset in winter in the North many years ago

When I am happy, relaxed and not dwelling directly on the problem that needs solving; epiphany occurs. The kind of insight required to solve insoluble puzzles comes to me when I am travelling, napping, listening to music or reading the Saturday paper.

Anywhere but our typical modern office environments which encourages high levels of specialisation and, often, stress. When Monday morning arrives, and I return to my office in the conservatory overlooking my garden, I’ll be in a state of creative work rather than creative insight. A different kind of creativity, namely the tweaks and fixes that transform a good idea into a great work takes place between 9 – 5 Monday to Friday. Often requiring acute, undisturbed concentration for long periods.

To revise, improve and rework.

By myself and in dialogue with others.

As every artist and inventor knows this is 99% of the innovation process.

Now, recently I’ve been reflecting on how some people, some groups, some organisations – not only excel at specialisation; they also excel at collective innovation. Why are some groups more than the sum of their parts?

Jonah Lehrer in his “Imagine. How creativity works” identifies the difference as being: proper thought.

That is proper thought by people who engage in tough-minded critique of ongoing work combined with time that has been set aside for exploratory work.

Work which doesn’t start out as having studied market research, knowing exactly what people need and want. Work which runs counter to the views of the masses. Work which often is jolie laide, both beautiful and ugly in it’s inception.

Work which is true to me and expressed in ideas beyond the demands of today’s market…

Now, this is my lantern, my landmark, my light house for what I wish to achieve in my life’s work.

Which ideas are you gardening into being this weekend?

Out of the earth

April 6, 2012

“You want to paint the hallway in that colour?” The eye brows went up. The voice went quiet. “Are you sure?”

There was only one room left in my home that hadn’t had a lick of fresh paint. For a very long time, I just left it. Magnolia isn’t that offensive on the eye. And I also knew something was going on for me. Why was it that I spent the time and money on all of the other 8 rooms and not the hallway? At one point I found myself saying: “I’ll do it when it’s time.”

Last autumn, it was time. The magnolia walls were just that bit too yellow and once I’d paid attention. I could no longer ignore it. I started to search for the right colour. I found myself sitting in various places and looking at the perspective created. Left doorways open and let my eyes soften and just look at the light and the colours on the walls through different doorways of adjoining rooms. As well as what would lift my spirits walking upstairs at night and walking downstairs in the morning.

With all the other rooms, I’d made an instant decision around what colour. Now, I found myself wondering : what colour do I want?

I went off to buy some sample pots. I spent time in the shop looking at samples. I spent time speaking with the cautious shop assistant. I came home with 3 different paints which I duly painted on the wall and thought: “These are just different shades of neutral.” They all felt like a mouse squeak rather than colours which made me smile.

I was getting stuck on ‘what’. So, I decided to stay with ‘how’.

Every so often I would look, every so often I would see; if I knew what colour my hallway really was. I booked in Chris, the painter decorator for a weekend when the boys wouldn’t be here. I set a deadline for my own process. I was waiting for the answer to come out of the earth and into my ear. What would be the colour of the arteries of my home?

What would connect amber gris? A colour which Kevin McCloud with a certain purple flourish describes as: “a rare organic substance used in perfumes and coming from the cachalot: this is a prized ground to contrast with both lighter and darker shades, the perfect neutral.” With raw earth? (“A colour of contrasts, of North African cities, Umbrian fields and even cool urban bars: an approachable deep neutral colour, complex and accepting.”) And malm? (“Inspired by soft loamy earth, textured with chalky marl: soft, flexible and giving, a gently calming colour.”) Not forgetting wax myrtle. (“Also known as candle berry, a shrub producing nuts coated in fine white wax used for making candles: this will bring a gentle and delicate light into any room.”)

In desperation, I went back to the Fired Earth shop and spoke to a courageous shop assistant who listened to me, watched my various sheets painted with sample colours of the various rooms and their layout. And she pointed out the blindingly obvious. The one my heart cried out for. The one described as: “Also known as red feather, this is the colour at the heart of the flame like glowing coals: passionate and intense, a wonderfully rich colour for the heart of your home.”

I went home with 2 large tins and a grin on my face.

It’s been interesting to see and hear people’s reaction. My oldest son, the mathematician, just smiled with a certain glint in his eyes when he saw the colour. My youngest son, spoke some words to check whether I was happy with the results and went off to do something. My cleaner, who cautioned against it when seeing a sample patch painted on a section of a wall, applauded the final result. Chris, the painter decorator did 3 coats over two days to get the level of coverage and result it required after checking if I was sure.

It lifts my spirit and makes my soul dance.

What colours do you surround yourself with?

Oak leaves floating

April 2, 2012

It’s 96 steps between my garden and the place behind the garden shed where the makeshift composting area is. Step onto the patio through the narrow passage way by the side of the house, round and past my neighbours house and across to my car parking lot where the small slightly wonky garden shed stands. I lost count of how many bucket loads full of dead brown leaves I carried for 96 steps there and empty for 96 steps back. Counting stopped being even vaguely amusing when I got past 20 buckets. And the job is only half done.

Last autumn, I asked around for someone to help clear the mass of oak leaves which the majestic oak tree fells into my garden. The first guy who came round. Walked down the narrow passage way and took one look at the oak tree and said: “They should be cut down, those.” He went on to say, I can’t get my machinery into your garden. Suffice to say, he didn’t come back.

The second guy said: “Sure, I’ll clear the garden for you.” I left the agreed amount of money and went out for the day. When I came back, the garden had been cleared of leaves. Only they were still there. In a neat row underneath the hedge running down one side of the garden. Suffice to say, it wasn’t what I had asked for.

I just left it. The argument. The leaves.

This March, I was recommended someone else to help with the garden. The very first job was to cut the overgrown hedges. Wayne sent me a text after he had finished saying: “It looks wider now.” When I went to see what he had done, I was delighted. I did, indeed have a much wider garden. I sent him a text back saying: “This is the first time someone who actually know what they are doing have cut the hedges. Thank you.” The mass of intertwined barbed branches had been transformed into distinct and shaped bushes forming beautiful new boundaries to my garden.

This week I have felt like I want to bury my hands in brown earth. So I have made choices about what I would and wouldn’t do. I have sought to be gentle with myself as even the strongest person experiences upsetting situations. I have come to realise there is no shame in taking time to heal my heart when I have experienced pain. I often speak of myself as an oak tree. And on the whole do not pay much attention to my own needs. Being a giver by nature, receiving is something I am teaching myself to do. (I am pleased that I’ve learned to accept and simply say thank you to any compliment I’m given. A major step forward for me. And there is more to learn.)

Thus this weekend would be a retreat for me. A retreat from the world to feel my heart rate and breathing become quieter. A chance to remove the masses of brown dead oak leaves so I could bury my hands in the brown spring earth beneath. A time for quiet reflection upon my true feelings. A time to write these down here, to bring comfort to my heart and mind.

All will be well

All is well

Oak leaves floating

On a well of love, power, strength and unwavering faith

The brown earth hiding the roots of the oak tree

Love,

A whirl wind blew

April 1, 2012

It was only a small piece of furniture. She, because it is a ‘she’, caught my eye the last time I visited Rules about a month ago. Downstairs in the sale, was a small reproduction side table with elegant carved curved legs, a small drawer and a distressed patina. She spoke to me then. And on this beautiful warm March Thursday evening, she came home with me.

Rules Antiques is a treasure trove of furniture and fittings the vast majority of which is way beyond my wallet. The eclectic mix of styles and pieces and the showroom itself a joy to my designers eye. I come here to breathe the air.

Curiously I knew this piece of furniture belonged with me. Just not precisely where. The place I thought she would go really didn’t work. We both agreed on this. Then things started to get peculiar. This small piece of furniture would need a particular place to be seen and for me to enjoy seeing her. She commanded proper treatment by having sufficient space and room around her. Being squashed into a corner just wouldn’t do.

Then, it happened. A whirl wind blew through the house. Every single piece of furniture in the 3 downstairs rooms was moved somewhere else apart from one large sideboard. 18 pieces of furniture. Some only a small shift. Most moved to a different place within the same room or to a different room entirely.

What was I doing moving furniture around late into the evening? Was this just a physical, literal moving of furniture? Or was I re-arranging the furniture in my mind? Or was this to do with the energy, flow, light in these rooms?

I can only say this: It got worse and worse and worse until all three rooms looked like I’d just moved in and didn’t quite know where things would go. And perhaps, that’s what I was doing? The ‘I’ that I am now was moving in.

What resulted was a complete and utter chaos. At the bottom of this destructive deconstruction phase with furniture in various stages of coming and going into and out of rooms at 11pm, I took a well-deserved break and watched some really bland TV whilst polishing off the remains of a tub of ice cream. (Obviously not feeling the slightest bit sorry for myself…)

Curiously though I wasn’t the least bit physically tired. And although there was a small nagging little voice saying :

“What are you doing? Exactly?”

I didn’t fall into a crescendo of self doubt. Close yet for some peculiar reason patience had risen to the surface and responded with a calm: “Let it unfold.”

Nor was there any drama. Apart from a (not so small) sigh when it became apparent that the place – THE PLACE – madam wanted was exactly where a seriously overloaded bookcase stood. I’d tried everywhere else despite knowing that my eyes kept returning to where the bookcase stood. Third time round and it was time to move the hundred or so books somewhere else including the book case…

The next day, I made one or two final adjustments. A small piece was moved elsewhere. A picture moved to where it had been to make way for a new one which is on it’s way this month. And I chucked out a shed load of paperbacks I’d already read and which held no meaning for me. Those that were meaningful to me I kept.

Walking into these three rooms on this April Fool’s Day, and they feel different. Less burdened down. Less cluttered. More balanced. Lighter somehow. Summery, perhaps. And they take me by surprise and bring me joy when I walk into then.

This week started with an email to Jan saying: “Can we do a spring clean on www.lisemoen.com?” Web site furniture and functionality was removed. I do not yet know what will be in it’s place. A conversation has been scheduled for late May to discuss.

What I did know was that the question I had posed in the past “what and who are you as a business” was redundant. Positioning of your business is what we do through the many small and not so small tasks and projects we do for you.

Last week saw the completion of an update of the Nordcape identity to use a lighter, silvery grey for the icon. A small adjustment of colour which I described as making the brand identity look more balanced, lighter somehow. Summery, perhaps.

3 years has passed today since I on April 1st 2009 set out on the journey I am on.

What winds of change are blowing around you?

Drenched in anxiety

March 31, 2012

“Thank you. I can sleep now.”

Those were my mum’s parting words. She had minutes before sent me an email which contained a contract to buy a place in the sun. No sooner had the email bleeped into my inbox without any accompanying words in the subject line or the email itself than the phone rang. Anxiety came rushing through the ether.

With a silent plea just behind: “Take the pain I am feeling away.”

Mum is in her late sixties buying a house by herself for the first time in her life. (I have yet to go through this rite-the-passage on my own. Perhaps, I’ll do so before I get into my late sixties?) That is, she is doing this with the financial backing of my brother as a guarantor for the mortgage and my emotional backing, so she can take a step into the unknown and do something she has been actively thinking about for the past two years. And talked about for what seems like all of my life.

Now, she was actually doing it. Significant amounts of money needed to be sent tomorrow and “Oh, I’ve been full of cold lately and my brain doesn’t quite seem to work.”

The unspoken question hovering between us: “Was this the right thing to do?”

And another one behind that: “Tell me what to do so I don’t have to think for myself or make my own choices.”

We talked for a few minutes and agreed what actions she, my brother and I would take first thing.

Now, I’m normally asleep by 10:02 pm after my head hits the pillow at 10:00 pm. Tuesday evening I’m wide awake until gone midnight. I didn’t quite realise that being drenched in someone else’s anxiety, providing pain relief to ease the feeling of one’s own feelings, could do that to me. Guess, it would be quite handy in a real crisis. The more you flapped about, the more alert I became.

Don’t get me wrong. I do plenty of flapping about myself. Yet, these days take care I do not drench others in my anxieties and, proactively set aside time to do my grief work (being in or by water), my anger management (boxing class where I am matched with the blokes ’cause otherwise I’d rip a poor girls arm out of her socket according to Dan, the trainer), feel my fears (curling up under a blanket giving myself a hug). All so I spend my life living consciously and, at times, joyfully.

Wednesday morning arrived and the agreed actions were quickly done. The main point of contention seemed to be a lack of data around what the on-going running costs would be. And in particular what taxes for owning this particular place in the sun needed to be paid. A call to Roberto, the friendly estate agent revealed that this would be the grand sum of 48 Euros. It was also revealed that he had already sent my mum a detailed break-down of the actual and total running costs. I asked for this to be re-sent and passed it onto both my mum and my brother.

Now, the two of them have turned their attention to the practicalities of owning two homes. Which coffee cups would live where? How would my brother find someone to rent on a short let basis mum’s place in north? What would mum do with all the tupperware boxes? What rent could they get?

When I spoke to mum yesterday, it was all sunshine about having something to do, something to plan for and somewhere else to go when autumn came. “It’s rained non-stop for the past three months, here.” (I haven’t checked yet I suspect this might be a slight exaggeration.)

I was also told, she has packed down 3 sets of china which would in time come my way. A set of black china espresso cups and saucers with a gold rim and emerald coloured insides which my uncle had bought whilst he was at sea. A set of flowery tea cups, saucers and plates my late grandfather, a captain on a small freight boat between Bergen and Lofoten had bought my grandmother as a surprise gift. She wasn’t best pleased as there wasn’t much money to put food on the table, so what did she need a new tea service for? And a dinner service that I do believe my grandmother liked very much and I’m sure I’ve eaten off in my childhood. Will be interesting to see if I remember it when it turns up as I’ve not seen it since my grandmother died many, many years ago.

So what do I do with the coffee, tea cups and dinner service I already have? Pass them onto to someone else, perhaps?

What do you do with surplus emotions or ‘stuff’?

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