Photograph by Tim Rosier
Photograph by Tim Rosier

I am like a hamster on a wheel. Mulling over my life experiences and working through them step by step.

Decoding the next negative and limiting belief then moving on.

Perhaps my most limiting belief is that limiting beliefs themselves have an impact on my life?

Or maybe that is a psychological trap. I know one thing is for sure, if I am living a life I love, I am loving working on this stuff.

Figuring out how stuff works is my favourite past time and what better workshop than the most complex of puzzles, me! At the risk of repeating myself I am going to tell an old story.

When I was about seven or eight years old I had a dream. I wanted to be a pop star. I had heard a story on the radio about a star who had smashed up a car and literally stepped out of it straight into a dealership to buy a replacement, leaving the discarded wreckage for someone else to sort out.

The star had so much money he didn’t care. This was when stars used to smash hotels (and believe me when I say I understand the frustration of being on tour). My Mum was furious about it. I thought it was ace!

I can still “feel” what it was going to be like to have the adoration of the fans. I had pop star fever. We all did back then. Slade and T-Rex were big money. Gary Glitter was king.

I was going to drive down Lymington High Street in my Rolls Royce and beckon the Chamberlain sisters aboard (the pretty identical twins from my school), then drive off and smash. That would impress them. Wreck one car, move on to the next.

I have the visual image imprinted on my mind like a piece of video tape. Heaven only knows why the image is still so clear. Dave Hill with his long straight hair looking down on me from an A1 poster on my bedroom wall, in a ridiculous silver cat suit and brandishing a guitar the shape of a swan.

And the shoes, how cool was I going to look when I could afford the platform shoes.

Fast forward about forty years into the future.

I was talking to my fourteen year old daughter about money earlier and telling her she has a 10% royalty on the Creativity CD she helped me record. “I don’t want you to give me the money” she said, “I just want you to keep it”.

“I don’t need any more money” I said, and there it was again. My limiting belief about money, not only in me, in her also. She doesn’t want to be paid, she doesn’t care. Pop star mentality from someone who isn’t. And guess who does that a lot in life.

Yup, I don’t need to be paid either. Mark the fu*king bohemian.

I want the rhapsody, the Rolls Royce, the stupid hat and the blue screen video, but I have conflicting values.

So I got to thinking today about goals.

The visual picture I have for myself when I reach a million sales on my book, amounts to a few thumbnail sized pictures I have printed out and stuck on a bit of card above my bed.

The vision I had when I was seven actually still has more weight.

I have aspired to and felt revulsion for that life style. My friends are ALL famous people and their lives make absolutely no sense to me.

I need to get clear on this.

I want to smell the Suffolk Punch horses, the coal and the machine oil. I want to visualise the sparkle in the eye of my eighty year old foreman who thought his working life was over.

I want to feel my life flash before me (literally) as I watch the Tesla coil synthesiser I have built, fire lightening bolts around me as I stand in my Faraday cage.

And then enjoy watching the latest band I am mentoring give away their entire catalogue under a creative commons licence and top the popularity polls, whatever that might look like in 2012.

Of course I need more money to do this. Imagine if Bill Gates didn’t care about money, global health wouldn’t stand a chance.

With all this in mind, there is a reflection of me, folding in to take my place.

A reflection of me from the future that replaces the one from the past that has been holding me up in the present.

See you on the other side of the looking glass,

creative thinker | innovator | visionary