Memory

Our Hugh Jackman

Our Hugh Jackman. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Our Hugh Jackman. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

As the result of a random gift from someone we had never met (via a very generous Aunty Rosemary) we just had the pleasure of spending an evening being entertained by Hugh Jackman.

It was all kinds of fabulous.

But my absolute favourite part of the evening was the memory of my Aunty Loris proudly displaying a newspaper cut out of ‘our Hugh’ on her fridge…telling me incredulously of her niece (my cousin) who could have married Hugh.

She liked Hugh for the same reason we like Hugh. He’s so damn nice, talented, hard working, entertaining and generous.

I loved the show. And I loved having Aunty with me again for an evening.

Thanks Hugh.

Love

Luke.

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Day 1,349

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Tucked in.

Tucked in. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Tucked in. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

I remember lying in bed as a child listening to my family talk happy noise as I pretended to sleep.

I remember how safe and at home it felt to have that chaos so nearby. Not having to be a part of it but being a part of it anyhow.

A party for no particular reason other than it's a Friday or Saturday night.

I probably slept on my parent’s lap at the pub, or on the couch at my cousin’s house. Carried to the car, cuddled all the way home and then put into bed.

Tucked in.

Night.

Love

Luke

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Day 1,278

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Remembering my dreams.

Remembering my dreams. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Remembering my dreams. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

I am remembering my dreams at the moment.

Which is kind of unusual. I suspect I’m always dreaming, but I rarely remember them. At the moment I’m waking up a bit through the night after I’ve had a dream and they are still with me for a while.

I’ve mostly forgotten them by the next morning.

But I have a sense of them.

I wonder why?

Is this my subconscious trying to help me with some coded messages? Or just the ‘noise’ of my brain sorting itself out overnight?

Or both.

Probably both.

It’s all part of this transition, this change that I am going through right now.

I have no idea what I’m transitioning from and too…but I can feel something is going on. That’s all I know at this point.

That will have to be enough.

Maybe I should start writing my dreams down to see if I can find any clues?

Love

Luke

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Day 1,091

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Truly, madly, deeply.

Truly, madly, deeply. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Truly, madly, deeply. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

Once upon a time I hung out with a group of friends and, even though we were all well out of high school at the time (like, well out of high school), we felt compelled to act like joyful children and create a lip-sync-dance performance to Savage Garden’s song Truly, madly, deeply.

For all involved this was a truly remarkable thing.

I’m sure it was also as life changing for the audience as it was for us, the creators.

To feel this sense of playfulness with a group of adults is a special thing indeed.

We had this opportunity because we were all working together to deliver a program called the Future Makers Fellowship. Which was run by the Centre for Sustainability Leadership, affectionately known as CSL.

CSL has all but closed in its current form. Today we gathered to say goodbye.

We came together to do some of the most important work that I have been involved in. Helping people navigate their inner worlds so that they can grasp their full potential and apply it to the most significant challenges we face as a species.

The fact that, whilst we did this deep and meaningful work, we also laughed and played and carried joy in our hearts, well that fact is proof that what we were doing was really as good as we all had hoped it might be.

Farewell CSL.

I’m so pleased you helped us all find each other.

Love

Luke

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Day 1,090

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My attention

My attention. Drawing Luke Hockley.

My attention. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

Intangible.

Smoke like wisps.

No solid place to stand.

To stop.

Habitual, sometimes destructive.

Not under my control.

Controlled by no one but me.

To stop

No solid place to stand.

Smoke like wisps.

Intangible.

Love

Luke.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Day 1,073

The future is unwritten.

The future is unwritten. Drawing Luke Hockley.

The future is unwritten. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

Here I am, once again, on the other side of the Future Makers communication retreat.

I’ve got all the things. I’ve got a deep well of belonging, I’ve got a cold (only a very, very small light handed one – which I’m totally calling a successful outcome given that previously I have barely been able to make it from the car to my bed at the end of previous retreats), I’ve got joy and hope for the future, I’ve got new ideas and ways of seeing things, I’ve got a bunch of beautiful photos and memories and I’ve gathered another group of friends and future makers that will be with me on this very uncertain journey into the unknown.

This year something is different.

I also have sadness.

An unspeakable sadness.

This retreat was the last ever communications retreat that will be run by the Centre for Sustainable Leadership. The organisation has decided to close down. This year will be the last Future Makers Fellowship.

It has been difficult to keep this organisation afloat.

I’ve seen the struggle, the hours of unpaid labour, the passion and commitment to make it work.

And it’s sad because it’s not like we don’t need the program, not like we don’t need leadership, not like we don’t need those leaders to help us to write the future of our species on this planet for the sake of all living things…

The need is greater than ever.

Philanthropists and governments and businesses used to agree that investing in this collective action was worth it. So, they would subsidise the cost of doing the course by giving the organisation money.

Then something changed.

A new expectation emerged that everything should be able to run as a social enterprise, everything should be able to fund itself…

This sounds reasonable on the surface.

I can’t quite put my finger on it…but something about expecting a capitalist model to fix the devastation and destruction that capitalism has reaped upon our ecosystem…it feels like the virus trying to heal the body.

I suppose I feel sad that we had a moment where the zeitgeist was “We need to collectively address these issues” and so we all, individuals, governments and businesses, invested in something that truly changed the story (just look at the 700 plus alumni who are now leading themselves, their communities and their organisations towards healthier relationships with each other, the economy and the planet that sustains us)… and now we don’t seem to have that collective agreement anymore.

Now we are saying “Well if you want to change the world you can pay for it yourself”. Which seems mean, and naïve, and foolhardy and like the true embodiment of cutting your nose off to spite your face.

But that’s where we are.

My experience with grief is that it is long and slow and complex and unexpected. That it will play out in many ways over the coming months and years.

I’ve had some time to sit with all of this. Enough time to accept, in some way, that the Centre for Sustainability Leadership is ready to let go. To appreciate and love the people who nurtured and cared for it, who fought for it in a system that didn’t want to listen.

Enough time to understand that its time has come. That this magic, beautiful thing, as we know it, is over.

But time is an interesting thing.

Because I’ve also had enough time to know that it’s not over yet.

Maybe my beloved CSL’s job was to launch the first wave of change makers into the world. To give them confidence and certainty, passion and compassion, clarity and voice, skills and knowledge.

To give them each other.

To weave them deeply into the fabric of the system they are going to change and then give them a clean slate to invent the next chapter.

Whenever I am truly lost I always check in with my mate Matt Wicking. At some point when we were talking about all this he said Luke…

“The future is unwritten. So, let’s go and write it.”

I’ll take my time to be sad. To feel the loss of this. Those feelings can’t be rushed.

Then, when I’m ready, I’m going to call my mates and start writing the next chapter.

Love.

Luke

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Day 905

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Twenty years.

Twenty years. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Twenty years. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

Last night I saw someone I hadn’t seen for a long time. Twenty years ago, the last time I saw them, they had had a baby.

Thing is, now their baby is twenty years old.

Time is so weird.

So much has happened, I’ve changed immeasurably in that time…and I also feel like I am exactly the same person, that nothing has changed.

How can that be?

I suppose it is because I carry myself with me every day…so the changes, both physical and emotional, just slide on by. They get absorbed into the ‘norm’.

When you don’t see someone for twenty years…well you notice the physical changes at least…but the essence is still there. But when you don’t see a baby for twenty years, well, that’s like meeting a whole new person. Because the physical and emotional changes are just so grand.

Twenty years.

Love

Luke

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Day 881

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Yesterday, tomorrow and today.

Yesterday, tomorrow and today. Drawing Luke Hockley. 

Yesterday, tomorrow and today. Drawing Luke Hockley. 

Dear Self,

I'm making choices about my life with two things in mnd. 

Firstly, I ask myself...how can I live each day in a way that brings me joy, makes things better in the world and connects me with my friends and family? 

Secondly, I look up at the bigger picture and the way I'd like my life to be and ask...what am I prepared to today in order to make the things I want to happen happen? 

These two things are not always happy bedfellows.

They often require me to negotiate with that unwieldy beast, compromise.

Perhaps compromise is an unhelpful idea...tight rope walking, or plate spinning may be more apt. It is a dynamic balancing act. One which rewards my confidence in my ability to hold my past, present and future lightly as I address the immediate question at hand.  

And sometimes I fail. And there is a loud crashing noise, a chaotic tumbling, falling and uncertainty.

Then what? 

Then I have to remind myself of these two complimentary but contradictory ideas I hold and trust myself to know what to do next.  

Love  

Luke.  

The edges of me.

The edges of me. Drawing Luke Hockley.

The edges of me. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

The edges of me

are harder, faster, sharper

than I think.

They blur and mush

and spike me unexpectedly.

Changing shape with the space

and time of day

and temperature

unforgiving

and harder, faster, sharper

these edges of me.

Love

Luke

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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Where do phone numbers live?

Where do phone numbers live? Drawing Luke Hockley.

Where do phone numbers live? Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

I used to be able to learn a phone number.

I used to have to be able to learn a phone number…because that’s what you did. You would learn your home phone number and the phone number of friends and relatives…because otherwise you wouldn’t be able to contact anyone in an emergency.

I now know my own phone number and that is it.

I wouldn’t even recognize the numbers of the people I love.

Why? Because ‘smart phone’ is why.

I’m suddenly very interested in being able to memorise things.

Two reasons.

I’d like to be able to learn the words to a song reasonably quickly so I can add it to my repertoire.

I’m being asked to learn the words to a poem at the moment (for a workshop I am about to do) and I am finding it remarkably difficult (it is a very obtuse piece of verse, in my defense!)

I’m also probably thinking of getting older.

I was never very good at learning things by heart…I’m much better at keeping the vibe of the thing in mind and improvising around it. Actually, that’s not true. My ability to memorise things selective. If I am deeply curious or interested in something and I have a reason to memorise it then I have shown great capacity to do it…normally I’m not that motivated. Curiosity is the key.

I do like the idea of finding new skills and learning how to do them. I’m curious if memorising things is a skill I can master.

Let’s see.

Luke

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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