Yearly Archives: 2011

Monday was a day of emotions like no other.

On the one hand, my friend and ally in many things, Tor, finally received the life-saving transplant she’s been waiting over 4 years for.  She can finally stop waiting and start the long journey into her new life.

No sooner had the emotions begun to settle than I heard that my friend and inspiration to many, Rachael, was preparing her final goodbyes, having been told by the doctor that there is nothing more they can do.

Tor always staggered me with her courage, fortitude and stubborn refusal to let CF beat her, reminding me in so many ways of the wonderful Jess, who we lost just days after her long-awaited transplant last year.  Tor has fought and battled and grappled with everything life has chosen to fling at her over the last four years – and throughout her life before that – and faced it with a characteristic smile, passion and commitment to not letting it get in the way.

Rachy has inspired many people, often first to lend support to people going through their own tough times, even as her transplant turned against her and her lungs deteriorated just 3 months after being given her second chance.  Always open, honest and available to all her friends, she humbles us all with her humility and love.

Rachy is all the more remarkable for having posted on her blog on Sunday a simple picture and the words

Rachael Wakefield, a life lived surrounded by love, with my second chance of life time is now precious, I’d like to thank all and everyone for your continued support, love to you all xxx Rachy xxx

Her quiet dignity in saying her goodbyes and inviting those of her friends and followers has seen her Facebook page deluged with outpourings of love and grief filled with the same passionate fervour as Tor’s has been with messages of excitement and prayers of hope.

What’s made this week so hard is that both of these women are at once utterly, beautifully unique, yet sadly not alone.

Every day we lose 3 people waiting for transplants in this country, mostly for the simple reason that not enough organs are available for transplant. If you haven’t already, you need to sign the organ donor register now.

It’s depressingly simple – taking less than 2 minutes and but a few clicks – but far too few people have done it.  No one like Tor should have to wait 4 years to be given a second chance at life.

Although we all know the risks going in to transplant, and although many of us have watched Rachy’s progress with a “There but for the grace of God go I” viewpoint, I know Rachy wouldn’t have traded a second of the post-transplant life had she known what lay in store.

I’ve always said I wanted six months of a better life post-transplant and I’d be happy. That a chance to play football with my Godsons, to run around in the garden, to do something without calculating how much oxygen I’d need to take would be enough for me.

I’ve been blessed with almost 4 years of new life and I thank my donor and their family for it every day. And I’m saddened every day for those who have never had the chance Rachael, or Tor, or I have had.

Don’t let life pass you by. Take it, seize it, make the very most of it. And please, once your done, pass your organs on.

I don’t often go for personal appeals on here, but the CF Trust‘s recent funding crisis has lead me to write something – to do anything – to help in any way I can.

For years the CF Trust have been pioneering key work in the field of gene therapy and have successfully completed the first stages of a clinical trial. However, due to the current climate and all kinds of funding being slashed, they now nned to find £6million before the end of October.

They’re doing amazingly well, but they need to demonstrate the support of the wider CF community to leverage the private donations from the business community they have lined up.

While crowdfunding for your arts projects are all the rage just now, I implore you to dig into you pockets as deeply as you can and donate anything you can to make these trials happen.

I am hugely grateful for the life I have lead and I can honestly say I wouldn’t change any of it; to change my past would change who I am today.  But in the same breath, I would never wish the things I’ve been through on anyone.

That’s why the work of the CF Trust is so important. Babies being born with CF today face a far better prognosis that I did in 1982 and if the gene therapy work comes off, there will be no need for people with CF to ever face some of the stark and scary issues and choices that were placed in front of me.

You’ll get no perks, no T-shirts, badges, producer credits or invites to the premiere. All you will get is the satisfaction in knowing that you’ve helped a great number of people and families to have a better life and a better future.

If that’s not enough, I don’t expect you to donate – I certainly don’t want to make you. But if it’s a choice between an indie blockbuster looking for finishing fund or a chance to change the world, it’s going to be that latter for me every time.

Click here to donate now, whatever you can give gets us one step closer.

Last week’s post about whether mattering really matters or not stirred up a really interesting debate, both on here and also on my friend Chris Jones’ blog after he posted his thoughts in response.

One of my Twitter buddies also lead me down a really interesting thought pattern with his comment. He said

An audience of one is better than none

I totally agree with his point – at least in relation to filmmaking – but I also suggested that I sometimes count myself as an audience of one for my work.

As I’ve reflected over the weekend, it’s occurred to me that using myself is something of a cop out.

I’ve no problem with creating things in a vacuum and keeping them hidden from view – I like having space to experiment with filmmaking, writing, photography or any other artform I choose to challenge myself with – but it’s a lazy way out to say I’ve nade it for an audience of just myself.

One’s own self doesn’t not an audience make, and if I truly wanted to show things to an audience, I need to open myself up to that through wider dissemination of my work and not keeping it all safely tucked away.

I challenge myself to create more and share more with those around me, whether they be small, personal, family audiences, or a wider community of people in both my real and virtual lives.

Or, by contrast, to be happy creating in a vacuum just for me, but without trying to convince myself that it is anything but fear that’s holding me back from sharing it more widely.

How do you share your art? And how have you enabled yourself to open up to the big, scary world of feedback and criticism?

When I used to work as a workshop assistant and, later, as part of several different Youth Theatre companies around my home town, I remember thinking that adults really ought to spend more time learning from children.

The amazing thing about children is the way they prioritise their lives. To a four-year-old child the thing that matters more than anything else in the world is whatever they happen to be doing at any given moment.

Their play isn’t hampered by when they have to stop and go home. The tears that come when told they have to leave come and go in a matter of minutes. The time they spend with a parent is all-encompassing, as is the time they spend with their friends, siblings and others.

We all work busily on different ways to prioristise our days, to keep ahead of the curve and up-to-date on everything that’s going on around us, but maybe we should be more like children.

Instead of constantly worrying about what’s coming next, perhaps we should put more effort into being truly mindful of one thing at a time.

Try it yourself, see how much richer it makes your life and work.

Stop writing an email with Twitter open.

Stop pausing while you review documents to read the updates in your Facebook feed.

Stop thinking about what you need to do next or when you have to be up in the morning while you’re relaxing and cuddling on the sofa with your loved one(s).

Be present, be focussed and be four years old again. It’s remarkable when you make the effort.

Does it upset us if the art we create isn’t seen by other people?

Does it matter to us if it isn’t?

The truth is, for many people, the act of creation will be enough. But for just as many people, there is no point in creating something that will never be consumed.

The difficult part of making art is to act as if creation is all that matters, because only then can you make something personal and emotionally connected.

Being desperate for your work to ‘matter’ just makes us create what we ‘think’ people want, rather than creating authentic work that really matters to the only person that matters: ourselves.

Finding time for creativity is hugely important to me, but it’s not always easy. Reorganising and relaunching the blog has taken me away from my usual creative endeavours for the last few weeks and now I have to get back into the habit.

I’m hoping that keeping to 3 regular posts will help keep my creative brain ticking over nicely, while giving me the impetus to push forwards with other creative projects.

Every creative person works in a different way, but for me creativity stems from habit. I’ve always liked to believe that my creativity is able to be summoned at will. I now understand that it bows to no master, but I also recognise that it enjoys routine.

I don’t know if its the writer in me, or just the base level of habit-former in all of us, but if I can get myself into the right routine around my work day and my commute, I know I’ll be able to engage my creative brain and start creating things that matter to me.

We’ll just have to wait and see if they matter to anyone else…

How do you create? Are you a ‘do it while the inspiration strikes’ kind of artist, or a ‘head down, crack on’ type. Do you have triggers that set you off on a creatie journey?

I’m always on the lookout for new things. I love learning, growing and expand my horizons.

I have a fairly hefty collection of feeds in my RSS reader and I was noticing more and more of them talking about Leo Babuta and his ZenHabits website, so I figured I should check it out.

When you read something that turns your thinking around and helps create a new way of doing things in your life, it’s tempting to over-egg the proverbial custard by calling it ‘life-changing’. But, in a way, that’s exactly what ZenHabits has been.

I’ve always thought of zen as being more of the kind of eastern mumbo-jumbo that helps martial artists to focus and that many westerners scoff at, a bit like karma ((I should point out that I actually vaguely believe in karma; certainly I believe that what goes around comes around.)). But zen is at once so much more than that, but so much simpler.

Zen is not some mysterious order of blokes in funny outfits telling everyone to be like them. Instead, it’s just more of a simple way to be aware of what’s going around you and to keep things on an even-keel.

I’m a stress-head by nature. I thrive on stress, but it also, well, stresses me out. I inherited a very short temper from my dad, something for which I’m not proud, but always figured I’d just have to live with. But even in the short space of time I’ve been following the zen ideas, I’ve been able to stay calmer, more collected and immediately more productive.

Zen isn’t for everyone. It’s not a cure-all and there is no ‘zen switch’ that you can press to suddenly feel calmer. To truly embrace zen you have to believe in what it can do and invest yourself in it. Only then will you see the benefits of living a zen life.

I’m in the very early stages of developing my zen life, but I can already see the benefits and I’m loving it.

Have you ever tried zen? How did you find it changed you as you learned and adapted along with it?

This blog has been offline for almost 3 months. The first month was spent wondering what to do with it, the following two re-jigging the code and re-designing the site, getting it ‘just so’ before launch.

Why, then, did I launch the site yesterday before it was fully ready, while I’m still not 100% happy with it?

Two reasons:

1. I’m not sure it’s ever possible to be 100% happy with anything – there will always be things that bug me and that I want to change. So I’ll just change them as I go.
2. It’s far more important just to get it out there than constantly be thinking about getting it out there.

In all the huffing and puffing over lines of code and photoshop files, I lost sight of the fact that the purpose of this blog is to keep me focussed on what’s important. Getting the perfect website just right isn’t one of those things.

Far better to get things out there, to open yourself to the world – to ‘ship‘ in Seth Godin terms – than to sit on your butt and think about doing something that you may eventually ship.

What project (or projects) are you sitting on, waiting for an excuse to start? When are you going to start? And when are you going to get it out there?

When I first started blogging, back in the dusty days of 2006, I began with a Statement of Intent. At the time, it was designed to remind me of the reasons I started the blog in the first place as well as letting people know what they could expect from me and it.

Over the years my blogs have changed faces many times, but this new facelift is something more. The simplified design and stripped-down visuals serve to remind me of the meandering thoughts and intentions that I let take over here and to keep me sharply, intensely focussed on what this blog is becoming.

You’ll notice the old name, SmileThroughIt ((and I’ve moved all of the archives onto this single site, instead of stripped across two blogs)), is back because rack my brains as I may, I couldn’t think of a better way to sum up the purpose of this site or the ideas I live by.

What is SmileThroughIt? Put simply, it’s a philosophy of life that helped carry me through some of my toughest times. While waiting for my transplant, not knowing if it would come in time, I learned to focus on the good things in life. More than that, I learned that if I could find just one thing every day that made me smile, that day had been worth it.

This site is here to help me make the most of the second chance I’ve been given and if, through that, I can help, inspire or motivate other people, so much the better.

Before the lengthy break in updates, I’d started blogging to please others, to write what I thought people wanted, to ‘optimise’ my posts. But looking back over my archives, both on here and the original site’s archives, I saw that my best writing and the most effective posts came not from targeting an “audience”, but rather writing something for myself.

Although I hate to admit it, it’s not just my blog that has been through many twists and turns and a distinct loss of focus. Everything that’s happened in this blog has been mirrored in my day-to-day life and it bothers me that I feel like I’m letting this second chance slip past me without grasping every second.

This blog will reflect my change in mood, attitude and approach to my second chance at life and, hopefully, will help guide others through similar changes in their own life.

This story has no planned ending, no final goal, no means by which to measure its success or failure. This blog, like all of us, just is. And what it is comes from what’s inside and the people who read, contribute and support its aims, ideals and author (that’s me) along the steps of its journey.

Come along for the ride.

Luck runs out.

In 2007, when I was struggling not just to enjoy but to hold on to life, I inherited what turned out to be a lucky portable oxygen concentrator from my good friend Emily, who had inherited it in turn from another friend.

Shortly after she received her ((the concentrator had been named Claire)), Emily got her transplant ((double lungs, same as me)) and passed her on to me.

Six months after I adopted Claire, I was blessed with my second chance at life.

In deference to the lives she had touched and the continuing legacy of the lucky little concentrator, I in turn passed her on to my friend Sam.

The thing about luck is, it runs out. As I was celebrating my 26th birthday – a birthday very few, if any, of my family believed I would reach – Sam was slipping away and died shortly afterwards.

We can not – and should not – need to rely on luck to ensure people receive the transplants that will save and transform their lives. Luck should never come into it.

Please sign the organ donor register.