Watch The Art, Feel The Science

“Granddad can make it fly.
He can.

Nana Wendy did buy it for us on her holiday.
She says it’s Orny Mental.
And Daddy says that probably means it’s not made for flying.
It just looks pretty and shiny.

But I think My “Silly Granddad “can make it fly.

I know I call him “Silly”.
But he can do things. Magic Things.
Things that make us laugh.

So, I’m going to watch Granddad make it fly.”

They didn’t need to say anything.
I could hear their excited, pleading words through their eyes, fixed on me above their uncertain, grinning faces.

These boomerangs.
These beautifully crafted, ancient-legend-telling little mementos.
One painted the brightest blue. The other vermilion and magenta.

Perhaps I could make them fly, after all.
Children can remind you how real is the impossible.

In the moment of tensed breath before I released the first one, my mind lunged back to The Convent.
To the children’s home were my life unfolded for seven years.

To the languid Summer days when we would make our own playthings.
To the hours spent poring over leather-bound volumes of Encyclopedia Britannica.

Deep in those glossy pages we discovered how hunters and warriors in mysterious lands had shaped their weapons.
In this case, assegais and boomerangs.
And - with the endless Summer days, ours to command - we took plywood and dowelling; and emulated them.

Then we gathered in opposing packs, in the spacious cow-pat-strewn fields that served as our playground.

And we went into battle.
Scream-creating, laughter-erupting play.
But dangerous battle nonetheless.

I flew back to my two grandchildren: almost-four and definitely-five.

Then the muscle-memory in my arm swung, and my wrist flicked.
And I watched without breathing.

Would you look at that!

The tiny instrument wasn’t merely spinning and gliding.
It was whistling and throbbing and rising.
It was climbing slowly and majestically - even menacingly.
It had grown in size and power.
Across the flat Cambridge playing fields, it became a thing of beauty.

Whilst we - open-mouthed grown ups and bouncing children - were rooted by the awe of such an unexpected moment.

Business doesn’t have to be a battle does it?
We don’t have to constantly compete against our peers to win.

What we do for our clients and our team…
This can be a thing of creation and marvel.

When we discover what the world-we-have-chosen-to-serve really, really, really wants.
Whether that’s status… recognition… fulfilment of dreams… freedom of choice… time… control… peace… security… feeling loved…

When we build what our gifts and carefully-honed skills allow us to build…
And then help them fulfil what they really, really, really want.

When we combine both the art and the science.
When we learn to articulate how we-can-do-this-for you.

Well, that can change people’s lives.
Our clients. Our team. Our family. Our community.

Then, business does become a thing of beauty, of wonder.
A powerful conduit. An instrument.
A culture-changing, life-altering force.
Far more than a mechanical profit-creating process.

And it soars.
”Just like Granddad said it would.”

David Scarlett