The penguins are going to die

It's all doom and gloom whenever the economy is mentioned: Global recession, financial markets melt-down, the end of the world is nigh.

It is a fact that the global economy is in a nose dive. Hundreds of thousands of people will loose their jobs in South Africa. Everybody is saying so. It must be true. The end of the world is nigh.

So, what are we to do? Duck our heads, huddle together and point our backs to the wind the way penguins do in a snow storm? Stoically plod through our daily lives until, at last, the bell tolls for us?

The financial equivalent of the penguin strategy is to save: Cut costs. Close factories. Fire staff. Put money in the bank. Cut advertising budgets. Shut down your web site. Close shops. Crawl under the bed.

In other words: duck. Like a penguin. Excuse the non-pun.

Now, to all the readers of penguin persuasion, I mean no disrespect. I understand that, given the fact penguins have no hands, no tools, no language and little intellect, ducking is probably the most sensible strategy available. Us humans on the other hand, have a little more going for us...not least of which is a brain that can be used for thinking. (Most of us anyway)

Consider this: A bank in the USA (Lehman Brothers) goes belly up because it took bad risks by lending money to people who could not afford it - people living today with tomorrow's money. Simply put: the world consumed too much for too long.

Because that bank owed money to other banks, who owed other banks, it had a domino effect and all of a sudden we were on the brink of a financial system melt down. Remember: we are talking about banks and companies with more assets than all the products and services produced in South Africa in a YEAR.

However: none of this crisis exists in the real world. No cities were blown up. No factories exploded. No people died. An apple is still an apple. The world is still the same.

It is the global financial SYSTEM that is in big danger. Not the world itself.

Penguins do not defeat the storm when they huddle down - they wait it out. If the storm goes on long enough all of them will die.

Huddling down is only a viable strategy if you know for sure you can outlast the storm.

This financial system failure is the same. Instead of a gradual correction over a few years, it became an overnight crisis because everyone went into penguin mode: Nobody wants to borrow money. Nobody wants to lend money. Nobody wants to trade. Nobody wants to invest in production capacity. Everybody wants to huddle. We have an instant, global, financial ice age...and companies are starting to freeze to death.

So, gentle intrepid reader, what are we to do?

The SYSTEM was (and is) flawed. A correction was (and is) inevitable, inescapable. But you and I, we are not multi billion dollar companies - and yet we are still directly affected by the problem. Ordinary people loose their jobs. Demand for products and services decline rapidly.

Remember: the world did not change: we still have to mow our lawns, cut our hair, brush our teeth, eat a couple of times a day. Life goes on.

So, what does this mean?

Simple: Opportunity.

It is our ability to produce things that guarantee our financial survival. The formula is still simple: make things people want and sell them at a profit.

The better, faster and cheaper we can produce the products (and services) people need, the more successful we will be. While the rest of the world is huddling and praying they can outlast the storm, we must invest in our ability to produce. We can search out new markets. We can invent new products and services. We can realize that the world is still the same, but the rules changed. The landscape is different. Working for a US$ 600 billion company does not guarantee your financial security: your ability to produce does.

Now is the time to invest your time, your energy and your money into your ability to weather this storm and to surface on the other side leaner, meaner and fighting fit - ready to take advantage when this storm passes, as it surely will.

For us, this is an opportunity.

But for the penguins...this is an extinction event.

Be careful what you think...and drink

My argument was flawless. Eloquent. Powerful. Super relative.

Satisfied, I put down my drink on the little table next to me and leaned forward to check on the large black pot happily bubbling on the fire. I lifted the lid waved the aroma to my face, sniffed, nodded and stuck the wooden spoon down the side to check the moisture level. It was perfect, so I pretended to add a little salt. You can't build a reputation if you just plak a pot on the fire and never fiddle with it. Its un seeming. Rule 29 clearly states that the pot master is the only person entitled to lift the lid or in any way interact with the pot.

Rule 29 is not for the benefit of the pot master as one would be inclined to think. Hu-uh. Its for the protection of the eaters: To touch another man's pot is to accept blame for anything wrong with it. Too much salt, too little salt, too spicy, not spicy enough, disgusting, not disgusting enough - all the toucher fault. Then comes the accusations of "deliberate sabotage", "professional jealousy" and even a "recall from deployment".

The movement (tribe) can be rather unforgiving when sufficiently (chemically) motivated. Conferences can be held. Cadres can be recalled. Heads can roll.

After adding exactly one fake shake of salt, I closed the lid, sighed with pleasure and sat back in my camping chair. In front of me the majestic mountains stretched from horizon to horizon. The setting sun was painting the mountain with fiery pinks and reds. Bird calls punctuated the background hum of sun beatles weaving seamlessly into the pine scented silence. A little bit of smoke drifted around the pot where it stood on a few coals in the fire pit at my feet. This is heaven. I closed my eyes in appreciation.

"Erm!", Paul coughed where he was sitting about a meter to my right and raised his glass in a toast.

Oi. I almost fell asleep in company. A moment of weakness that can earn me a (single) shaved eyebrow...or worse.

"So!", I said a bit loader than intended and went on: "the more often a synapse fires, the more often it fires." I nodded in agreement with myself and reached for my glass. I took a swig. It was surprisingly cold - considering it's been in the 35 degree afternoon heat for more than an hour now. It was also surprisingly full, considering I've been drinking it for more than an hour.

"Oh, I see," said Paul, frowning, "It fires more because it fires more?"

I took another swig from the glass and replaced it on the table on my left, next to Peter. He was quiet throughout my explanation of how neurons and synapses adapt, but seemed quite interested. I almost knocked his glass over, but then gently shoved it aside and turned to face Paul on my right.

I smiled gently at Paul on my right and leaned forward to open the pot's lid. I am the pot master and that was a rather stupid question, I thought. I answered and tried not to sound too condescending: "No Paul, it's like this: the more it fires, the more often it fires."

"Idjit." I thought to myself. I closed the lid and sat back in my chair. The mountains sure did look pretty.

Come to think about it, my last statement was a bit...well...unclear. I lifted my finger to signal I need a second, and turned around to take a sip from my drink. It was primo stuff. I mean A class, unadulterated super duper brandy and coke. I think. It might have been something else, but I asked for a Brandy and Coke...so...it has to be a Brandy and Coke. And it was nice and cold. And full. Which is strange because I just had two swigs from it, anyway, I have to clarify my statement a bit, so I took a swig for my dry throat and continued:

"Every time a synapse fires in your brain, it makes that pespific, I mean spesific, neural pathway 'stronger'. Your brain re...re...re-configures itself constantly based on your requirements - just like your legs will grow stronger when you walk a lot." I nodded in agreement with myself and leaned forward to open the pot's lid. I added another (exactly) one false shake of salt, closed the lid and sat back in my chair.

The mountains sure are pretty.

"So!", I said when the rest of the thought occurred to me, but then I remembered last time when I spoke my throat got dry, I said: "Hang on." and I took two swigs from my glass. Which was nice and cold. And nice and full. I put the glass down next to Paul and continued: "So, each time you have a thought, your brain...if you have one....", I chuckled because that was a funny one, "...your brain fris, I mean fires, a lot of neural pathways, which then grow a little stronger. BECAUSE you used them." I thought the emphasis on "because" was pretty clever and made the argument much more logical.

"What you are saying is that by thinking something, your brain changes?" Peter asked from behind me on my left.

I turned to face him and nodded enthusiastically: "Zigzactly!" I went on: "This is a mechanism that helps us to survive: your brain becomes better and better at thinking the thoughts you think every DAY!" I smiled triumphantly and stuck my arms into the air. Sheer brilliance. Peter frowned: "So thinking happy thoughts will make your brain better at thinking happy thoughts, and thinking negative thoughts will make your brain better at thinking negative thoughts?"

I patted him on the leg. I felt a bit emotional. He is such a good disciple. And a good guy. I wanted to start talking, but then remembered I did not have a drink for a while, so I turned toward Paul and picked up my glass. It was a bit slippery so I almost dropped it. It was ice cold and fuller than I expected. I took three large mouth fulls, turned to face Peter again and put my glass down next to his.

"Yes. You nailed the hit on the head.", I continued: "Your brain is your thinking muscle in many ways." I paused. "thinking muscle." Brilliant. How do I come up with these gems?

"Wait a second," Paul said behind me, "don't your brain just think random thoughts most of the time? Can you really control your own brain?" Paul. He is such a nice guy too. Sitting here with me next to the fire. Talking sensible stuff. I downed my glass, carefully put it down and turned to face Paul.
"Paul, my friend, you don't have an alien living in your head do you?" He did not answer, probably assuming it was a rhetorical question. It wasn't. "Well, do you?" I repeated. I wanted to know. Just in case.

"Of course I don't", he replied. I was relieved. "Ok, then..." I thought a toast was in order on that confirmation, so I turned to Peter and picked up my glass. It almost slipped out of my hand - it was ice cold and fuller than I expected. Glass in hand I faced Paul again, raised the glass in salute and downed it, and smacked it down on the table.

"Well, if you don't have an alien living on, I mean IN your head, then you are thinking your own thoughts aren't you? I mean: your brain is your brain. You think your own brain. You think inside your own brain. It is you who think. Understand?" That made me a bit tired, so I sat forward and shook exactly one faux shake of salt at the pot. The lid was still on, so I opened the lid before someone noticed, and shook the pot a few times in the direction of the pot." I closed the lid and sat back to enjoy the beautiful mountains.

"I don't have an alien living in my head either!" Peter said next to me.

I was happy to hear that. Peter is such a good guy. Paul too. Good guys. That deserves a toast. I turned to Paul to retrieve my glass. It was nice and cold. I raised in salute to Peter and downed it, and smacked it down. "Great!", I smiled warmly, " us humans control our own thoughts, our own emotions and our own destiny. We physically become what we think. Our brains change. So what you think, you become. And that can work for you in miraculous ways or against you in disastrous ways."

I sat back in my chair and concluded: "In essence, you must be careful what you think". "Yea", Paul said with a broad grin, "you must be careful what you drink too.".

"Uh-hu.", I agreed. Paul. He is such a sensible chap. Nice guys. Both of them.

The mountains sure are pretty.

I don't remember much after that.