I’ve been watching Stephen Bartlett interview author, journalist and thinker Graham Hancock on his podcast ‘Diary of a CEO’ about a lost episode of history and the evidence of a Lost Civilisation that could better explain where we are today, and what may be in store for us if we don’t ‘course-correct’.

I find the world is undergoing a phase of ‘unsettlement’, from individuals being displaced to a more general fear that things are not as they should be. Our leaders define everything in material terms, they display little positive consciousness, lack spirituality, and act unwholesomely. Our societies are less curious, less tolerant, more withdrawn, numbed by hardship—or perhaps greed. We behave differently, full of anger, hatred, and suspicion. As Graham Hancock puts it, “We’re not a mature species, we’re a childish species, and leading us are leaders who have the mentality of deranged teenagers.”

When a feeling of unrest or discomfort aches in our bones, troubles our thoughts, or catches us off guard in our dreams, we describe all these separate emotions as a sense of being ‘unsettled’. No matter how reflective that sense of the ground beneath our feet being unreliable can make us, collectively being unsettled is deeply isolating. It pushes people toward irrational behaviour, as if we’re all bracing for something we can’t quite see.

Here in the United Kingdom we have seen riots in response to a growing division between the government and those who feel victimised by rising immigration and acts of violence.

Hancock says we need to move away from nationalism and tribalism, and re-learn tolerance—learning to deal with difference without resorting to violence. Violence feeds ignorance. It bypasses the one thing we are all born with: a brain. A centre of consciousness with endless potential and the capability to achieve extraordinary things, such as the ancient civilisations he speaks of.

He also suggests that hatred is a kind of psychic force, and the way it is being generated and focused around the world has to be harmful—for us and for nature. I agree. In the aftermath of Brexit here in the UK, I watched politician Boris Johnson present himself as a likeable buffoon on the one hand, while publicly encouraging division on the other. It felt as though he was giving people permission to hate. He isn’t alone. It’s a familiar political tool: stir emotion, deflect attention, and push through weak ideas.

Hancock explores the idea that humans may have existed much earlier than we think, and that a lost civilisation may once have held a deeper kind of knowledge—something now overlooked and undervalued. If he is right, then perhaps what we are experiencing is not new at all, but an echo of an earlier history.

If our civilisation is once again descending from wisdom into noise, from curiosity into certainty, from deep connection into division, then perhaps the “lost civilisation” is not something buried beneath sand or sea, but something we are in the process of losing again: a way of thinking, of being, of relating to one another that requires more patience, more humility, more awareness than we currently seem willing to give.

The feeling of being unsettled may not just be fear of what is coming, but a dim recognition of what is slipping away. A subconscious awareness that something is out of alignment—not just politically or socially, but fundamentally, in how we choose to exist alongside one another. If that is true, then the question is not whether we are on the brink of collapse, but whether we are capable of recognising the pattern before it completes itself.

So if there is anything worth holding onto from the idea of a lost civilisation, maybe it isn’t what they built, but how they thought—or how they understood their place in the world, and with each other.

I don’t know if we are at the beginning of that kind of decline, or somewhere further along. But that sense of being unsettled feels like more than anxiety. It feels like a warning—or at the very least, a recognition that something important is shifting, whether we choose to see it or not.

I don't know about you, but I've been loving this year's Six Nations Rugby. Watching a game turn on its head from a single moment’s loss of concentration, and seeing seasoned players taught a thing or two by underdogs as they rise up and surprise everyone — probably themselves most of all, has helped swallow the bitter pill of watching our National team lose. I never used to think of sport as one of life’s best leadership classrooms, but as I get older — and as sports coaching becomes more thoughtful, more positive, and more attuned to equality and mental health — I can see there are countless lessons to be taken from team sports.

So it felt rather auspicious to bump into my youngest daughter’s old form tutor at the local rugby club and be reminded just how much a parent can learn from their children. This brave young woman had once spearheaded a school trip up Mount Toubkal, the highest peak in North Africa’s Atlas Mountains — a truly gruelling, Bear Grylls-style expedition. “What goes up the mountain must come down the mountain,” became a favourite mantra from that time, and I still remember how bone-tired everyone looked when they slumped off the minibus on their return.

The following year my daughter was made Head Girl, and I credit much of that success to how she tackled that Toubkal trip — a trip the school still offers to this day.

It was around the same time that her all-girls state school merged classes with the boys’ school next door. The transition was met with consternation by some girls and their parents, and reluctant acceptance by others (why fix what isn't broken?), but it transformed conversations around our dinner table, where our daughter would often deliver a running commentary on sociology, anthropology… and hair.

“Mum, I sit behind this boy with amazing hair in Science and I just want to run my hands through it.”

Fair.

Quite quickly the schools fully merged, and the observations improved. Her masterpiece was a dramatic reenactment of boys leaving a classroom:

“Miss, miss! I got this.”
Misses light switch.
“It’s okay miss, I got this.”
Misses again.
“I GOT THIS.”
Hits switch. Lights off. Triumph.
“See miss!”
Accidentally turns them back on.
“I got this miss!”
Misses…

Meanwhile, four boys remain jammed in the doorway because they all tried to exit at once.

But one moment in particular has always stayed with me.

My daughter was explaining to a horrified friend — appalled at the idea of even sharing space with boys — why she didn’t mind sitting on a sofa between two boys at prefect meetings.

“If you actually watch them,” she said, “although they can be loud and physically dominant in a room, they also think deeply and are really good at relating and responding to each other, as if they’re learning and operating like a team — which is sweet.”

I, attempting to retain my position as wise and all-knowing, replied,
“So boys are basically just like girls but with different body parts.”

She looked at me with pity.

“No. Boys separate into two types, mum: twats and lovable twats. Not like girls at all.”

Honestly? I think she’s onto something.

There’s a leadership lesson in there somewhere about intent, teamwork, and judging people by character rather than noise level. Leadership, it turns out, looks a lot like rugby, mountains… and teenage boys — though I suspect she’d say I’m overthinking it.

She’s nearly through uni now. Her advice column launches soon. Naturally, I’ll be first in line to subscribe.

Back in 2017 I wrote about  six ways to be the best, I'd been a big fan of GL Hoffman*** creator of the blog 'What Would Dad Say?' GL had invited me to write a guest post in 2010 and can be credited for me discovering the joys of blogging. When I wrote 'Six Ways to Be the Best', I was working in a large, linear organisation that behaved on the outside like a people-centred organisation but didn't feel like one from the inside. As I revisit articles from long, long ago I've been inspired to look again, from the perspective of branding, which continues to be the main focus of many companies public-facing activity. Is it really all about the brand?

Don’t Build a Brand. Build a Community.

You might be able to guess the originators of the quotes… “If you want to milk the cow, give it good grass.”

It’s a simple idea, almost agricultural in its honesty, yet it captures the essence of sustainable business better than most strategy decks ever will. Value does not come from extraction; it comes from care. Whether your “cow” is a customer, a team, or a flagship product, the same rule applies: nurture first, benefit later.

This is why great organisations don’t obsess over branding alone — they obsess over belonging.

Walk in the Right Shoes

“Take off your management shoes and regularly walk in your customers’ shoes.”
“Take off your management shoes and regularly walk in your staff’s shoes.”

Leadership from a distance is convenient, but it’s also dangerous. Dashboards, reports, KPIs, and feedback summaries are useful — but they are representations, not reality.

Do you know what it feels like to be your own customer this month?

Make time to find out. Stand in line. Use the product. Navigate the systems. Work the tills. Spend a shift alongside your staff. You can employ the best consultants and secret shoppers in the world, but none of them will ever equal the insight gained from experiencing your organisation firsthand.

You are never too important to let your feet touch the ground.

Never Say Goodbye

“Never say goodbye, always ‘see you again.’” If you aren’t aiming for repeat business, you shouldn’t be in business at all.

Customers who don’t return are a warning sign — of complacency, lack of ambition, or a failing experience. Eventually, organisations that don’t prioritise return relationships become inward-looking. They fossilise. Dinosaur thinking takes hold.

Growth isn’t always about scale, volume, or footprint. Sometimes growth is simply deepening relationships — even (and especially) in large organisations. If you believe in your organisation, make it possible for people outside it to believe too.

That belief doesn’t come from slogans. It comes from consistency, care, and connection.

Don’t build a brand. Build a community. A strong brand can attract buyers. A strong community turns people into advocates who voluntarily recommend, defend, and improve what you offer.

Mind the Cash Cow

If you have a major seller — a product, service, or outlet that carries the business — ask yourself an uncomfortable question:

Are your senior leaders spending enough time with it? Valuing it. Nurturing it. Keeping it healthy. If not, why not? No excuses.

The heart of your business is your cash cow. Everything flows from its centre. If leadership assumes it’s “running itself,” manages it from a distance, or stops giving it one-to-one attention, the fall isn’t a possibility — it’s a certainty.

Be the River, Not the Rock

“Flow. Be the river, not the rock.”

Being a solid, reliable organisation — a “rock” — is admirable. But time passes. Markets shift. People change. Technology reshapes behaviour. Rocks don’t adapt; they erode.

Rivers endure because they move.

Design your organisation with flow. Build processes that reflect how people actually behave — desire routes, not rigid corridors. When obstacles appear, they become visible. When challenges arise, fluid organisations move around them instead of being blocked by them.

Stagnation kills communities. Movement sustains them.

Brands are built on messages. Communities are built on experiences.

If you want loyalty, don’t chase attention — earn trust.
If you want longevity, don’t manage from above — engage from within.
If you want growth, don’t harden — flow.

Don’t build a brand. Build a community, because a brand is a promise you make.

A community is a promise people make to each other.

The second one is far more powerful.

The original article can be found here: https://juliet.posthaven.com/from-the-archives-six-ways-to-be-the-best

***GL Hoffman, is the creator of  JobDig, a career search and employment guide. He then created and launched the incredibly successful LinkUp, an American job search engine that search’s jobs from almost 22,000 company websites! I don't believe he is related to LinkedIn's co-founder, but just like LinkedIn -  LinkUp is still going ....

©JulietB 2022

© JLB, Jan 2026

The Blister Pack Boys: Why Two Retirees Are Challenging an NHS Waste Blind Spot

In the space of just one year, Piers Nicholson and Anthony Warley have become known across South Wiltshire as the “Blister Pack Boys.”

Back in 2024, Piers (90) and Anthony (70) decided to do something about a problem most of us barely notice: the vast number of pharmaceutical blister packs that are not being properly recycled.

Blister packs are widely used as unit-dose packaging for tablets and capsules. They protect medication, extend shelf life, and offer some tamper resistance. Their introduction was originally supported by a Government Health Committee as a way of reducing the ease with which pills in bottles could be misused in attempts to end life.

But while blister packs serve an important purpose, they also present a serious environmental challenge.

Made from two different types of aluminium bonded together, blister packs cannot be placed in standard household recycling. Separating these materials is technically complex and costly. As a result, an estimated 1.5 million blister packs end up in landfill each year in the UK.

The fundamental issue is economic: the value of the recycled materials is far lower than the cost of recycling them.

There are currently only two specialist recycling companies able to process blister packs, both of which charge for providing and returning collection boxes. Some retailers have attempted to help. Superdrug has run an intermittent collection scheme, while Boots operates a points-based initiative with strict time limits, for their advantage card holders. Neither, however, works well for larger volumes or delivers a sustainable, long-term solution.

Anthony, a retired Respiratory Consultant and General Physician, and Piers, a retired sundial maker and founder of the Fleet Street Heritage Project, share a determination to tackle this conundrum. Their aim is to encourage NHS England and pharmaceutical companies to work towards a new, practical approach—one that addresses this untenable waste problem through innovation, collaboration, and awareness-raising.

In January 2025, supported by a small team of volunteers, Piers and Anthony purchased a recycling container from MYGroup and held their first public blister-pack collection event in Salisbury Market Place, with support from local artisan bakery Hendersons. One year on, and nearly 100,000 blister packs later diverted from landfill, they could feel justifiably proud. Instead, they simply say there is still work to be done.

If you know of any groups, organisations, or community networks that might be interested in hosting a short, informal talk on this subject, please let me know and I will happily pass on your details.