A magic moment at 8.07 a.m.

Today, while enjoying afternoon tea with a good friend, we chatted about 'magic moments.' What are magic moments? They are those special, uplifting things that happen, often each and every day. Unless you make a conscious effort to do otherwise, they more often than not slip away from your mind and are forgotten and lost. The importance of capturing and treasuring them, and how and why we should do that, I shall discuss in an upcoming post. For now I wanted to introduce the concept with an example (originally written in November 2009)...........

Here is a true story that happened to me, and which taught me the importance of magic moments in life and of making genuine, friendly connections with strangers or people you meet for a few seconds each day - in this case a Starbucks coffee shop counter server.

I was staying at the JW Marriot Hotel outside Orlando, Florida, where I was attending Tony Robbins' Date With Destiny seminar. Now strange things can happen at Tony Robbins events, but I still had a little bit of scepticism after he had told the 3,000 or so attendees to expect something unusual to happen at 8.07 a.m. the following day.

The next day - the final one of the six-day event - and shortly before 8 a.m. I took the elevator to the lobby and made my way to the Starbucks outlet inside the hotel.

Unlike on previous days when I arrived freshly showered and neatly dressed, on this day I was unshaven, had messy hair and did not have my name tag around my neck. Why? Well, there were still quite a few hours to go before the start of the seminar's final session and I figured I'd wait to shower and dress properly once my washing was finished in the hotel launderette on the third floor.

Unkempt and without any identity tag, that was me. So how did the Starbucks server 'Leigh' recognise me and address me by name? Not only that, she even remembered what my usual coffee order was. During the week thousands of delegates had used that small coffee shop every day. I visited once each morning. Yet here was the counter server remembering me on sight, by name, after only a few days and addressing me like an old friend. On all the other days when I had been wearing my name tag I had not been addressed by name as far as I could remember.

I was taken aback. Now, you're going to have to take my word here, but I swear that this is true. The exchange at the Starbucks counter happened at 8.07 a.m.

How had Tony Robbins been able to predict that a magic moment that would happen at 8.07 a.m.? Perhaps because my mind was unconsciously on the lookout for something to happen at that precise moment in time my senses were fully alert taking in every single thing that was happening around me.

Whatever it was, this was my magic moment.

I chatted briefly with 'Leigh' and took a mental note of her name tag for the first time, that is why I can remember her now as I write, and why I returned the compliment and addressed her by name the following day before I departed.

In an unexpected but quite beautiful way I had been taught the power of making a connection with a stranger - a real, genuine connection, addressing them by name and showing that they matter in your life enough to acknowledge them in a friendly and direct manner.

Look out for those magic moments in your own life, and learn the name of the person who serves you coffee in the morning, or drives your bus to work, and use it to make that magic moment connection.

Book writing with index cards

Index cards are a feature of my daily routine at the moment. Each day I fill out two more with writing for my next book. In theory, once I have many hundreds of these index cards completed they can be shuffled and arranged and put to use as the blueprint to allow an unbroken 'run' at the first draft.

On the cards I write a basic sketch of a scene, or a section of dialogue, a character description, or occasionally a condensed precise of the overall story. There is a great freedom from this approach as I can write ideas and mini scenes and not get caught up with internal doubts or debates about whether or not this is the right place for this piece of action, or if it is even worth including, etc.

The sifting comes later. At the end of the index carding process all the component parts can be reassessed and then moved around - or discarded - to form a cohesive and natural rhythm to the story.

Another great beauty of this approach is making each card 'eventful' and having an identifiable part to play in moving the story forward. They are like mini episodes of action. Having these at my fingertips when I reach the point of slotting all the pieces together in the first draft should ensure a flowing storyline without much (or any) drag.

For now it is a couple of index cards each day. The 'done' pile is still relatively small, but as I warm up the speed at which I can fill out the cards should increase. The aim is to end up with between 500 and 1,000 good cards (having sifted out the naff ones) before heading into the first draft. In the picture above is my current pile and, for reference, an unopened pack of 100 index cards. There is a fair bit of work still ahead.

A last jog for two friends

(Pictured: Chris, Sean and myself)

On the last Wednesday of October two runners jogged side-by-side around the stadium track, chatting as they made their way gently around the circuit in the evening darkness. The stadium floodlights cast areas of brightness and shadow across the scene.

I was one of the two. The other was Chris, who was there to say goodbye to his running friends and to the weekly track training sessions that he has been a part of for the past decade.

I've known Chris since I arrived on the island, both as a runner and as a friend. Only a year or so separates us in age, and our ability as runners meant we have remained very closely matched across the past eight years. So much so that on any given race day it was always tricky to predict which of us would cross the finish line first.

As we jogged around the track we chatted about life and running, and Chris reflected that as he has become older he now treats running more as a lifestyle - a chance to enjoy being in the company of others and sharing the experience, rather than focusing on personal bests or high-ranking results.

He's right. The greatest joy running gives is the camaraderie and friendship that builds through the years. A bond is created with people who become an integral and welcome part of your life.

So there we were, two figures jogging in the distance under the light and shadows of the stadium's illumination. To an outsider that's all we would have been, just two men jogging a lap side-by-side on a dark night.

But for Chris and I it was the sharing a last few minutes together, a last jog, thinking about our race day exploits and the years that have gone by since we first met. Chris is starting a new job half-the-world away. Someday he will surely return to the island for a visit - and a run. I hope I am here to join him or, if not here, then someplace else where we get to run a race together.