NLP and Cancer

Today at Sue Knight's NLP Alumni "Inspire Day" at Bix Manor, Henley, I gave a talk on how NLP techniques helped me when I went through cancer diagnosis, chemotherapy, and during my subsequent recovery. I'm posting an extended transcript of my talk (including content I didn't have time to cover during the event) for anyone who is interested. Check it out after the break.

Why should we live every moment as if it's our last?

In response to my poem on lymphoma, someone recently asked me why I thought we should live every moment as if it was our last. This person pointed out that if we always did that, then one day we'd be right.

My answer is that we're always right. Every moment is our last moment, because every moment is unique. You can't live the same moment twice and each one of us only has a finite number of moments left. We can squander them or savor them. The choice is ours. But the fact remains that there are no ordinary moments and it's down to us to make them meaningful.

Cutaneous T-Cell Lymphoma - A Poem

My skin is covered in tattoos.

They're fiery red and constantly changing, like flickering flames.

They tell the story of where I've been and they hint at where I'm going.

My tattoos are what Buddhists call dukkha.

They represent suffering, but through that suffering, they provide fuel to kindle the flames of my spirit.

I didn't choose these tattoos, they chose me.

It isn't easy being marked in this way and sometimes the rashes make people stare.

But I'm grateful that they are there.

As the tattoos on my body wax and wane, brimming with the threat of relapse, they remind me to live every moment as if it is my last.

The inspiring simplicity of insect strength

I once watched a beetle that had somehow got flipped over onto his back. His little legs were striving away, trying with all his might to right himself. To me it seemed hopeless, and I wondered why he didn't just give up. Strangely this little beetle was engineered in such a way that once he was on his back, there was just no way he could turn himself over.

Nonetheless, the beetle did not give up hope. He kept writhing his legs in an effort to flip himself. He never lost his faith. And he was right to persevere. Because I was watching him and, inspired by his efforts, I gave him the gentle nudge that he needed to get back onto his feet.

Without hesitation, the beetle scurried off, to carry on with his life as if nothing had happened. There was no trace of trauma from the potentially life threatening ordeal he had just experienced.

The insect reminded me of some of the most inspiring people I know. I don't think there's anything so beautiful as when someone responds to great adversity by getting back on their feet, dusting themselves down and gong back to doing what they love.

This doesn't always come easy for us humans. We are more complex than insects - capable of sophisticated insight and reflection. We can lose hope. We can experience fear and self doubt. We can be traumatized. We can give up. Whereas insects are far simpler creatures. They are not capable of any of these things. When they encounter adversity, they fight for their life until their dying breath. They never lose hope. They're incapable of it. Instead they persevere.

Sometimes we make things more complicated than they need to be. We can over-think things and cloud the issue. But when we learn to accept the simple perfection of our life unfolding, we can connect with our own simple insect strength. The results are always inspiring.

The art of running well

There are many schools of thought on how we should run. Some say we should run barefoot, and land on the balls of our feet, while others say we should run heel to toe. Some say we should push our shoulders back, while others would prefer to keep them loose...

Over the years, I've come to realize that our running style is just as personal as our handwriting. Everyone is an individual and everyone has their own unique way of running. Even top athletes, (like Paula Radcliffe and her nodding head,) have their own unique style.

But while no two running styles are the same, I have concluded that there is still one reliable yardstick for judging a good running style, and it is this:

When you run, make everyone you pass wish that they were running too.

If we truly believe that running is a good thing, then we should embody the benefits of running whenever we run, so that others get a real sense of it, and want some of what we've got. And while there may be as many different running styles as there are runners, I've found that there are still some key characteristics that are always present in this style of running:

1. Smile: let everyone know how much you love running by getting your smile on every time you put your running shoes on;

2. Relax: allow your limbs to flow in an easy and graceful way;

3. Focus: zone in on the experience, exist in the moment and become one with your running;

4. Connect: when you're running, you're a part of a global family. Other runners are your brothers and sisters. Say "hi" to them as you pass.

If you want other people to get the same benefit out of running that you do, don't just tell them how great it is. Show them. Embody the essence of running. Be the change.

The most important lesson in life

After my cancer diagnosis, I explored many different avenues in search of a better way of living. I learned about Buddhism, NLP, Yoga, Psychotherapy, Cognitive Behavioral Therapy... I found important insights and value in all these approaches. I also found a common thread in all of them. One that has had profoundly positive and transformative impact on my life. This insight has been expressed in many different ways, through many different philosophical approaches, but I believe that Stephen Covey in “7 Habits of Highly Effective People” says it best:

“explore the space between stimulus and response”.

While other animals merely respond to the stimulus they receive, without reflection or self awareness, we are uniquely endowed with the human faculty of consciousness. This enables us to pause for thought. To consider the stimulus we have received, explore the options and choose a positive response that is in line with our purpose, identity and values.

When someone is mean to us, the automatic response might be to be mean back to them. But the space we uniquely occupy between the stimulus (mean behavior) and the response, enables us to explore other options. Like trying to understand where that mean behavior is coming from, and what this person is trying to tell us. Then, when we are ready to respond, we may do so in a way that entirely reframes the situation into a more positive and constructive relationship.

When the stimulus is adversity, such as cancer, we can choose to respond as a victim, or we can choose anything else that we would like to be. We can choose to respond to adversity with strength.

With practice, we can get better at creating this space. It is a liberating and powerful place to be. In fact, it is the only place to be if we want to live a meaningful life. And like all the best ideas, it can be expressed in clear, simple, concise terms:

“explore the space between stimulus and response”.

Spotting excellence at the gym

How often do we miss excellence, when it is actually right in front of us, but we’re so absorbed in our own reality that we fail to look up and notice it?

Last week, I was talking to two acquaintances at the gym. I only know them well enough to say “hi” when I bump into them. One guy is Polish. He’s a remarkable athlete, with a muscly, gym-fit physique. The other guy is British, and he tends to spend more time in the sauna, rather than lifting weights.

The three of us got into a conversation, and the Polish guy asked what “sets” and “reps” were. The British guy replied that there are eight reps to a set, and you should wait about a minute between sets. I commented that the number of sets to a rep varied depending on your experience and goals. But the British guy corrected me. No, he was adamant that there were eight reps to a set.

The Polish guy nodded and said “ah, I see. Thank you.” The Brit seemed pleased that he had been able to share some wisdom, and he walked off smiling. But I was puzzled, and wanted to understand more. The Polish guy was so strong, with such bulging muscles, that I wondered how he had achieved this, if he didn’t use sets and reps.

He explained that in fact he did use sets, and proceeded to talk me through a sophisticated procedure that he used to work his way down to his one rep max. This is the mark of a serious power lifter. There we had been, me and my fellow Brit, explaining rudimentary gym basics to the Pole, when in fact he was the expert. His question had not been about how to do sets and reps - it was simply a question of vocabulary. He is currently learning English.

If we had been paying attention, this fact should have been obvious. You only needed to look at the guy to see that he knew more about the gym than us. And yet, my British friend had been so absorbed in his own experience, where a set is always comprised of eight reps, that he missed the opportunity for enlightenment from a true expert. And I had swooped in to correct him, when someone far more qualified was standing right next to me. It was as if we’d been debating music in front of Mozart, or explaining physics to Einstein.

We benefit so much when we learn from experts - so why are we so reluctant to recognize expertise and listen instead of lecture?