... The Individual...

'Aslan, face of White Lion in South Africa'.


The Individual

Something intriguing about The Individual made him appear to each of us as an unattainable entity. Perhaps it started with the fact that his roots were so unusual, Polish, Dutch, and a Spanish Grandmother, who had raised him mainly. We clicked; I suppose from the moment that I noticed he lacked the simplest working materials that everyone else took for granted… By this I mean having a ruler, a pen that worked and even a sharpened pencil. When he first met me we were doing an intensive training course to enhance Manager’s team building and coaching skills, in Warwick. I thought he appeared wanting. He seemed to lack the usual personal items that most students carry into their classes in affluent societies, from sophisticated mobiles, palm tops, organisers… to their Oakley sunglasses or multicoloured high lighters.

The simplicity which he presented to us was refreshing and in sharp contrast to the rest of the group with their over-labelled trappings even those with basic WH Smith and Woolworth stationery, others had loads of stolen bits from work, from the usual manufacturer own brands.

It began with a gruelling three-day self/others-evaluation and NLP awareness seminar, and culminated once the course finished, with the usual celebratory meal out shenanigans. At the end of each day we all went off to study in small groups and since there was a predominance of male managers in the company I worked at, they tended to hang out at the sports bar. The main outcome I thought at the time was that it made business relationships quite intriguing. Did I feel I bonded much with my fellow students? I can’t say that I really even wanted to bond – not at that particular time, in fact I found myself always retaliating and embarking on singular missions that didn’t include others and caused distress in those on the course that were natural parenting types that needed to shepherd those of us that were quite out of the ordinary and wanted to retain complete independence and sole rights over our decisions, and evening plans.

The few women on the course needed more time to pamper and prepare for their joyous drinking binges, because being typically female they had heated rollers, hair straighteners and other products geared to help them appear natural (grin), and I found that once I left the gym and headed back up to my room to read in advance the next days work as well as finish the night’s homework; I was already out of ‘sync.’ with everyone else who was eating in the hotel restaurant or had split off to find a local eatery for a change. Sometimes, I would have to return to the gym because I had forgotten some personal article such as trainers or shampoo or water bottle, it was a weird time of trying to hold onto my possessions which forever seemed to be disappearing, in my absent mindedness and almost manic need to soak in more information than was being provided I was both simultaneously forgetful, and finding my short term recall was enhanced by the learning process.

When I first saw the Individual, he was looking over a man called Joe’s shoulder at his computer magazine. Joe was a red headed man portly, with a sweet-tooth, constantly plying others with bon-bons, lemon and strawberry. He was labelled the ‘winer’, for he complained to one and all, at the start of each day with feeling frustrated with the lack of commitment by everyone else in his ‘team’, who it seemed to him were mainly there to be on an ‘alcholofrolic spree’. Although he never thought to change groups, he was compelled to tirelessly focus on matching my delirious pace and since being hyperactive I needed constant drip feeds of copious amounts of data to keep my interest upward, then we became formidable rivals in the stakes for matching wit to wit.

Reading this, I am sure you have been in that position yourself, where you feel that excitement each must experience when we are evaluating choices that can change our direction and remove us completely from those we have become accustomed to.

This period gave us a lot of time hanging out together in small 2 or 3 people workgroups which was empowering, mainly due to the sense of being away from any reality of our own lives and isolated at times and therefore acknowledging each others different backgrounds and where we were as individuals ourselves. Being almost 6ft 5”, the Individual was noticeably different, from the onset; we often played tag with me trying to reach my favourite highlighter in lilac held about three feet over my head in his outreached hand.

Then there was Surinder, a stunning Asian man whose parents had raised him in ‘Thets roight, Bear-ming-em’… or Birmingham to you and me… had bonded with everyone and was just then showing us how he had learnt to ski, and then as he was a fantastic mime, he showed us how he fell over. He was going to be forty-seven, but had the richness of his ethnicity and culture as he followed every sequence of Bollywood dance choreography and we called him ‘Swivel-hips Suraj!’ (His wife told us when she came up to join him one evening that everyone called him Suraj). He would teach the girls Bollywood moves mainly to show off his dance steps and his ability to mimic the stars. I recently bumped into him and since I do think that Rithik Roshan the stunning Actor is rather gorgeous on a purely shallow physical level, for I do not care if the man has a brain or not – he quickly showed me Rithik’s latest dance choreography! I instantly memorised it – in the event I need to impress Rithik with my moves, in a non meaningful superficial level!

He was anxious about spending time with his father, who at the time of the course was morose and suffering from depression. Suraj who despite a rich and rewarding career as a teacher, before he entered business, was rarely flattered by gratifying compliments for beneath his affable surface was a man literally drinking himself to death.

Suraj would tell us about the complexity of being pulled by his family demands and those of having a young family of his own.

The Individual would nod softly, and develop a far off look. Something that appealed to me was that his compassion had no bounds. He rarely shut out the world, as so many do, particularly those who come to know themselves to be happier in private fantasy worlds.

Two ‘students’ down from him sat Peachy, a man we all came to consider the fool of the century, not only for his ingratiating approach towards his manager who was either playing his mentor or his sidekick, to the reactive manner in which he demonstrated his cocky style of management. Since he was highly volatile he was easy prey for those in the group who enjoyed taunting naturally masochistic types. He had no idea about any other culture but his own, and even there he was limited to say the least. He was also intimidated quickly by anyone who could build relationships that that did not include him and he showed his contempt for such natural social skills by a simple sarcasm. I often refrained from letting my foot collide with his ankle such that he could have tripped and possibly damaged his conspicuous ego.

The rather rambunctious and energetic Patricia sat in front of us, her fantastic mind taking each grain of information and allowing it to snowball into larger heavily layered ideas and she often was quite dazzling in her willingness to put others first, even as she interrupted with the ferocity of a charging bear down a mountain slope. Such great heartedness on her part was at once both admirable and also a concern, for she could stomp on others feelings as quickly as she could be forgiven for her lack of social graces in knowing when it was rather bad form to call a fellow student a moron rather than wait until he really proved himself (or herself if it were a female)… irrefutably and with some kind of consistency that they were indeed a moron!

The Individual loved Asian culture, and was the first ‘non-Asian’, I had ever met that knew and owned Cd’s of Asian music, and in particular Rafi’s music and shared my love of this exquisite vocal talent! Those who have appreciated Rafi, will consider him to be a man whose heart rending voice achieves the same sensual passion and evokes the very same resonance of tonal perfection that Elvis created. Since music can be one of the most fundamental barrier breakers, it was therefore wonderful to see him talk in depth to the other Asians on the course. I think we were all astounded at this diverse and charismatic man with wide interests and a world view that exchanged information easily and with efficacy.

He was clearly sympathetic to what was hidden and yet had the management style to encourage openness and emotional self expression.

As you read this, I am unsure how you might feel at one of those corporate conferences where everyone is shuffling in their seats with a sense of anticipation, and curiosity about the other attendees.

He had laughed when he saw the accoutrements of my ‘briefcase’. I had tons of ‘post –its’ sticky sheets in 4 bright colours (the colours signifying my energy drivers, of whether the subject matter was intellectual, practical/resource tool, creative or cost/risky. These to me were valued tools which I used to write queries I like to run in my mind, and also to specifically target pages with marble-chiselling observations that I think may channel my brain muscles into some cognitive overdrive later when I was doing my nightly homework. He laughed when he saw me take out an old Rubic Cube block, which had belonged to my kid sister, rather tatty from many handlings, which he took from my desk and turned over in his hands and started to twist in beautifully etched, powerful palms, lovely shaped fingers with strong thumbs. I wrote random words on it, and sometimes asked others to do the same. The labels which I used were easy to remove and from habit sometimes I left some with letters or numbers on purely to make the mental query more challenging.

I told him I didn’t bother trying to solve it as I had done all that, but that I wrote on ‘these labels’, and then moved the key words around to help me creatively think from single word stimuli. He said the idea was crudely logical. Days later when he saw the brick covered with key words, and watched me twist and turn the bricks now pasted sides and then ponder the significance of what were imponderables, he took the brick from me and then he turned it over just once and handed it back.

‘Do you like wooden puzzles?’

‘Easy Peasy’, I said, maybe I sounded conceited, but I always found I was a whiz with any puzzles that consisted of spatial objects whatever their dimensions or configurations, they appealed to my need to be inspired by positive childhood recollections, as a ‘ball-breaker’ around the boys the whole clinical aspect of intellectual challenges remains quite constant in me . On the other hand many a time some man offered me his telephone number and vainly prompted me to try to memorise it thinking it was simple and was then disappointed that I couldn’t recall past the first three numbers, well each to their own. I am also stumped with directions and forever forget where I parked my car and how to find the way out of buildings. One will always see me muttering to myself and changing direction at least once as I make my way two miles until I realise that my car is parked across the other side of the building, town, city!

He had seen (purely a fluke) a three word sentence that meant something to both of us. My navigation around the rubic cube consisted of many unusual words that generated a mental puzzle such that they were cohesive but perhaps indefinite because some were foreign. It wasn’t a particularly special sentence; in fact it may have appeared to others as mundane. But the fact was that I hadn’t actually set this up myself to show itself on the cube… I had been directing my energy in just using the bricks with its scribblings as another way to keep my energy and intellectual timers on a fast forward, as the course after the third day was beginning to drift as people adjusted to it’s flatter learning curve of timings… I had already peaked the first couple of days and now I was distancing myself from what felt to me to be a suffocating environment of too much familiarity and too few new faces around me. At any rate I have always been able to hyper speed absorb data and chunks of information, and only struggle if there is too much noise or distractions around me from other’s who need more time to process information. As an individual myself I fiercely protect my independence and avoid co-dependence wherever it occurs towards me. So any environment that breeds a lack of mental stimulus and the possibility of constantly meeting new faces is boring for me.

The Individual was similar to me, and it was easy to engage his interest in the various curious anecdotes that we both brought to the course with us.

He borrowed (actually he stole) my pencil, my ruler, my sharpener and my silver and my gold pens… You know the types – that write in silver and gold! I used them to give myself stars during the tests we did! Okay so when I did less well, I used a red pen to draw a cross of pain and suffering.

In an area rich in multicultural ethnicity, here was lovely Malik. A man whose children (twins, a boy and girl) called him Manic, was doing a doctorate in the sciences as a home study course and this additional course was putting him under a lot of mental strain, so he appeared to be less effusive and as he sat next to me, he would usually laugh when he saw my frustration at the loss of some article from my desk, my newly acquired ‘tippex’, now on the desk to my left…. He would then lend me his… but keep a sharp eye on it and request it back almost as if it had an invisible elastic band to his miserly (sorry Malik) moth filled wallet. On the other hand he was a Finance Manager….

Retaining his persistent individuality The Individual would glance quickly at the clock on the wall above Maliks head, and then almost appear to be synchronising his own watch to it mentally, for he would rise almost to the minute it was time to go for coffee breaks or lunch. He never stayed a minute longer than he had to.

Whenever I could not put my hand immediately on my byro… I knew the culprit. The Individual smiled at me with the innocence of a Lion who has blood around his jaw line and in his mane appearing as aloof as possible and trying to disguise the missing leg from a hyena that he has clearly absconded with, which the hyena is hobbling about looking for it! So it was that I was not the only person who suffered at the hands of this light-fingered thief! The hyena in question was a rather pathetic creature called Mona. Her public suffering was hard to ignore. She had orange skin that burnt even in the white winter sun, for countless sessions of heat lamps and dieting had somehow left her leathery, and a permanent smile that appeared to the onlooker like a case of botox miss-injected was curiously scary. At twenty-eight, she was more stupid than interesting and more interesting than articulate.

Joe, loathed her constantly laughing at every joke any man made within her earshot, for he hinted that it implied to him, that she needed the attention, and at any rate he always appeared agitated when she tossed her head back and made her half laugh, half snort noises.

When I rang my Mother that first evening from the hotel we were booked into and gave her my usual intense personality profiles of those individuals that really accelerated my thinking processes to delve into their psyche through a pure fascination for the unusual, the attractive… and the intriguing, I included him first and foremost. As always my Mother’s immediate impressions were superbly grafted, with passion and precision two sharply delineated qualities but in her enhanced by her energy for interesting subjects.

‘He sounds like you… a complete person, and an individual, I think you will get on because you both have purpose and a sense of personal space which you can be comfortable in without needing props’.

She was right, although I was at first cautious about this illusive person. Despite the air of a snow Lion, I sensed something more dark and power hungry beneath the outer animal magnetism.

Others on the course would always be remembered by me although we would hardly even think to stay in touch let alone keep those soft vows we make to stay in touch.

Some shied away from Adrienne the spunky spirited straight laced Goth-like bat, who always wore black but secretively envied those who could adorn themselves with colour since like most damaged individuals hiding behind black and white palettes she observed with a stylised cynicism those who were creatively confident in the magic of colour and rainbow.

She had her 26th birthday on the course and was a team leader for returning products/goods. She spent the entire time in her room on the phone to her boyfriend who she reined in with a tight grip and she ensured he shared his itinerary for every living second with her, for her umbilical cord to him was tightly wound around his neck.

At the coffee machine as the Individual passed me the fruit teas, sometimes stopping to smile inwardly at some private thought as he might have read the labels, cinnamon and orange Pekoe, or apple flower and camomile-elderberry… It was strange. He wasn’t his usual scintillating self… instead a shadow of dark oppression seemed to hang over him.

Not least of all because he was so cautious and appeared to be in some dream streams of icy thoughts, his eyes had flecks of gold and were a warm brownish green, rather like the dark pebbles that were covered in soft moss around the alpine ferns, which our rooms overlooked at the conference rooms... He often brushed his hands through his long curly blonde hair and his angular features at once presented a double take that was reminiscent of the fifties heartthrob Lex Barker, (Tarzan for six movies).

He looked up at me briefly, as he emptied his duffle bag (of things that he had taken from my desk each day), smiling as he took another of my personal belongings, and saying softly… ‘I am keeping this’.

(I heard Patricia hiss ‘He is a thief!’ but she meant it to be funny, however she was chewing on rather sticky jaw-glueing toffee that afternoon and it spat out to where even Adrienne looked peeved, at any rate the words that ensued were “He is a FEEF”…).

Yet that particular day; he was more distant than normal; barely noticing me, which was strange since normally there was a trickle of dialogue that always riveted my attention by its lively promise of intrigue or at the very least some anecdote that he had recalled triggered from a passing remark. He almost tripped over loose carpet tiles that could easily pose a hazard to the less vigilant. As the prince of one-liners he often made me giggle when he casually dropped an almost aloof sentence into play, some sly observation, delivered with the ease of a fly fisherman casting a line… ‘Reel them in…’

The lovely Laura who graciously reminded each of us how forgiving, unhurried and graceful she was when others lost their sense of fidelity and self restraint to regrets that would be gambles with their home based relationships. She always came over to me and whispered her concerns and shared her private thoughts feeling a sense of protective calm she said around me. She, I and the Individual would sometimes have a coffee and breakfast as we appeared the last to arrive in the dining area in the mornings – each of us were late for different reasons. In my case, because I had been to the gym, and then logged onto the internet and closed my work emails. In Laura’s case because several years ago, she had lost two and half inches from her arm and had it sewn back on following an accident in a car crash that was due to the driver being stoned in Holland. Her arm appeared at odds with the rest of her. She had been in pain since and sometimes I went over to her room to help her put on a warm coat or do her sleeve buttons, her courage and outstanding resourcefulness were always inspirational.

Touching scenarios such as this were embedded in the very fabric of my existence during that time, as pleasantries that were forced and over polite were always strained, so any small kindness and unspoken gestures that were observed seemed to me to have a lasting quality about them.

The Individual was always particularly thoughtful and gentle with her. He would quickly push the door with his long reach, over her head so that she barely noticed that he had done so, or just get her a coffee, leaving it discreetly on her table without a word.

Over time I came to consider him as one of the most individual characters I know.

Sometimes, he would be seen talking gently with adorable Heath and Betty, they had started dating prior to the course and now seemed on their way to being engaged. They were sweet together but always appeared co-joined, arm in arm reminding me of those couples at school that could not let each other go.

Richmond, the strangely named American whose parents had conceived him in his name bearing London borough, was the offspring of lavish over indulgent parents, he kept trying to impress me with stolen flowers from the stunning hotels floral arrangements, and quite often got cursory glances when he was caught doing so. At 23 years of age he was the baby of the group. He was a newly appointed team leader who had recently taken over an offshore site where he was working under the shrewd but intuitive Finance Manager. His humour was boundless, always a wise cracker, despite his wealthy upbringing he had a humility that brought him closer to each of us in small immeasurable ways.

However, the Individual, like me left when he was bored, and stayed as long as his individuality allowed him to play the game of social politeness. He was the first to spot that once bored I would be plotting my escape since spending all day with the same people as expected to spend an evening with me was more than I could stand.

Clearly someone playing to his own drumbeat and without any sense of being in anyone else’s shadow or worrying about what he should be doing or not doing, instead contemplating only how he will achieve his single minded objectives. To this day, I like listening to his plots and plans, his subtle machinations that entice and promise to deliver some future realisation, I like Scorpio men, but he is different he has what is termed Leo rising… I can relate to this subtle astrological quality.

I like to see how his mind develops a theme and how he plays it into motion and reworks it or breaks it down into manageable steps that he can spin around inside his head until he has the idea pinned down to where he can share it with those that are going to be most useful to him. He has no qualms about using people or being useful to others. He is matter of fact about the subject and or query and almost meticulously finite at expressing his needs to those who can expedite his requests.

I suppose you have met similar types who choose to be cold blooded when it comes to their work focus or objectives. He is quite simply too mercenary for words but there is an excitement listening to his sharp insights and how far he is prepared to work or not work in order to achieve them. When I was asked what my future goals were by a well meaning Friend, I thought it an obscure query like some kind of question one throws into a cauldron and wishes for a response from the ether. I like planning and in fact pride myself on being an effective risk manager. I like forecasting and speculating and weighting the various consequences until I have a clear agenda and I can balance my lines of communication appropriately. However, we all are fallible, and I suppose situations may depend on or not depending on whether one wants to provoke a challenging contest.

During the course, his Grandmother had died. He received a call on our last day. This was the day after I had sensed he was in an abstracted mood. When he called his mother, she said that it had been a painless death. Just one of those things, she was handling it very well, for in her mothers final years they (his mother and his Grandmother) had found a peace that had eluded them for many years.

The Individual was quite simply extraordinary, three or four times yearly he would call me, from some foreign land, the last place was Beirut. His roles changed with projects. I knew him to be a kindly but as a ruthlessly results driven manager, who delivers precise, bespoke software configurations, with absolutely no interest in the actual fee he makes, because that isn’t what he is driven by, makes him quite intriguing. Yet he has no compulsions towards the semblance of unfavourable chances, and for him each step is itself purposeful and balanced only against the depth of the fall. What could occur to make him lose his grip, his foothold, or his focus?

When he would attend seminars or training sessions with me, I found his polished almost prismatic air quite a fixation. With telling effect he smiled a half smile of subtle understandings. His choice in ties was simply like him, purely individual. I only knew two other men (one is my Father) whose choice in ties were quite simply executed with the exact purpose as a military general attaching his medals to his chest… pride, purpose and some inner creative fire that reminded him of battles won or lost, and the true cost that this symbol of his sense of personal status truly held for him. No matter what the gains were he was unwilling to toe anyone else’s line.

This day was the most curious, for he didn’t seem to acknowledge me at all, and without any ego I nevertheless wondered what was distracting him. I liked to see him most days at the gym, at the hotel, since the pair of us were the only ones who trained every night whilst on our course and when he wasn’t training and honing his muscular angles, he was emailing me his latest tactical drivers, just looking for me to be his conscience and accepting that whatever he did as his friend I would demand his path towards some nobler route to his goals. Particularly as anything less would sit badly with me and would lower him in my eyes – something I worked at personally – to forgive, but still found myself shuddering at weakness and to me any incongruous or dishonourable act would be considered a sign of his lack of intelligence to be able to work through the challenge with mental power.

So what had he been up to that he couldn’t face me or look at me in the eye? Weak people always sulk, and behave embittered and incapable or getting past their emotional immaturity. When confronted by such obvious glaring perspicuity they glare at you and behave injured and can generate endless trivial levels of unseen minefields where you tiptoe around them thinking “…. Good grief, this is a colossal idiot … needs to grow up!

So I looked at him, and smiled inwardly, after all I supposed he would eventually talk to me once he had worked out how he was going to present his case to me such that I might accept it and his methodology.

So the day passed uneventfully, and then it came, as always there was a text first. ‘Can we chat?’
‘Yep, when?’
‘In 5’.
‘Make it 15’
‘Ok’

Anyone who knows me, knows I hate texting, and keep it to a bare minimum, doesn’t interest me beyond bulletins about my ETA’s (estimated time of arrival), or my best wishes on New Years Eve, Christmas Eve… etc.

Anyone who tries to engage my attention with texts on phones is going to get icy responses and mostly those meant to cut the dialogue dead rather than keeping it an ongoing stream of nonsense. My brother sometimes sends me rather wonderful affectionate prose that he has received from some admirer that is endearing and always well crafted, and to my surprise perhaps as it comes from him, I react entirely differently, otherwise woe betide anyone trying to waste my time with idiotic texts.

Righteous indignation, well that sums up what I felt listening to his phone call fifteen minutes later… He was complaining of the political and social issues that change the face of our history daily, and how powerless he felt, and at some level I also felt his frustration was going to be a driver that would put him firing lines in the future, for he is regrettably someone who cannot avoid such unavoidable limelight as dangerous liaisons with authoritative figures.

On the last day of the course, he suddenly presented me with a small package, rather beautifully wrapped. Of course I love presents, who doesn’t, I tend to give far more than I receive as do most people who love people do. I therefore am always particularly moved when anyone has made any kind of special effort for me. It was I-Ching! Just perfect!

I asked him on Christmas Eve, when he rang me to wish me his usual best cheer, he was driving back to his mother’s in Dorset, and I asked him if I could share anecdotes that may have been personal and rather close to the bone here, he replied… ‘Go ahead…(then added) Do your worst, ACE (a nickname gained from my ruthless tennis serve)!’

I supposed he smiled when he uttered the words almost under his breath.

Most Friends I know, panic or try to avoid being written about, and begin their replies with … ‘Don’t you dare!’ Then they laugh nervously, as if somehow I have a torch that will light up the tunnel of their depths and expose all their secrets or mysteries. It always amuses me to taunt them over it, some even blush! It is also rather charming as it indicates a shyness that is often inherent in the most complex subjects! I am always curious about those with smouldering personalities and the Individual was one of those types and remains still, full of embers that warm and at the same time like burning coals can sear you.

Patricia was more than excited when she knew I would mention her here, for three days I received emails asking me ‘When, when when?’ I thought she was one of the brightest women I have met in a long time, well at least since my ex Boss Judy. Her knowledge on the subject of ancient civilisations was simply dazzling, and I would share one of my obsessions – a love of Greek and Egyptian mythology and history, one evening she presented me with a CD which had dozens of black and white photographs from various excavation sites. She had always thought she would be an Egyptologist, but her allergy to dust and her terrible aversion to warm climates made her rather an amphibian preferring instead to go Scuba diving everyplace except the Red Sea!

I guess as you skim over these words you have also remembered someone who like Patricia had an exuberance and energy that engulfed you with the anxiousness of wondering how this energy sustained itself and appeared so expressive when you were yourself straining to find motivation for even the simplest of activities.

Patricia had the kind of brain that concluded so suddenly and so startlingly obtusely that you wondered what planet she was on. Then would come a quiet moment as she revitalised her self expression in a way that it would appear clearer as if she had realised that her originality and earlier ‘thought-aloud’, ideas and views were premature, for she brought intensity and shrewdness to any project she was involved in that was welcome. However, if you had the patience to actually listen with openness then you certainly would not underestimate her sensibility and she was a wonderful flutist whose music often comes to me in small pieces of exceptionally easy to remember fluid notes.

So it started this way…. And since he is more than the average person, much more… than there is more to come… I always know when it is him because he has our three little words from my Rubic Cube sentence. Nothing too significant to anyone but us, in fact rather mundane… But it has particular significance to Friends who can make special experiences count for something unique and illusively irreplaceable.

Unclouded futures that signified some measure of the egg timer that had turned over and released its precious sand into a cradle of lost imagination.


Three little words?

I thought you would ask.

SOS, ‘save our souls’…. But he had changed it to ‘save my soul’….


... Did you find the same kind of syncronicity in serendipity...?