A Journey of Self-Discovery

By David Ferrers

Discover how the disempowering incidents that dominated the author’s early years led to public speaking terrors, a poor self-image, low self-esteem and a lack of confidence. See how he overcame these handicaps to build a successful career in multi-national corporations and become an internationally renowned personal development and leadership coach. Using many new, unique and powerful techniques developed by the author, this book will guide you on your personal journey to rise above your handicaps. You will see how to express yourself, to achieve self-fulfilment and happiness and to become the person you are designed to be. With the help of this book you can now master the arts of changing from Frustration to Expression, from Stress to Happiness, from Anxiety to Confidence and from Poverty to Prosperity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Ferrers
• Release date: Feb 28, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463966211

David Ferrers

Hello, my name is David Ferrers. During the twenty five or more years that I have been a self-realisation coach (someone who assists people to become what they can become) I have helped thousands of people. They have come from many different walks of life. My task has been to enable them to discover their own sense of purpose and meaning so that they can release all the happiness, courage, confidence and power that has lain dormant within their beings. Now it’s your turn to unlock your potential for enjoying your life to the full.The purpose of my writing is simple. It is to enable you to feel happy, liberated, courageous, confident and powerful, AND to feel good about yourself whilst you grow into the person you always wanted to be. The secret to making any transformation is to discover your personal answers to some basic questions. The issue for most people is that they don’t know what questions to ask. I didn’t either when I started on my personal quest for my unique way to express who I am. The questions have emerged over many years as I have worked with clients to help them discover the powers that have lain dormant within them throughout their lives.There is a better way to look for the answers. When you discover those answers they act like a transformer; it’s as if someone has just switched on the lights in the darkened room of your mind; your whole being is suddenly flooded with confidence, power, courage and happiness. Once you breech the dam that is holding you back all these good feelings just burst out from within you.Can you imagine how good your life will be when you overcome your fears with courage, when you face intimidating people and situations with confidence, when you find within yourself the power to overcome any challenge, when you feel liberated, when you pass your days in a haze of happiness?You were born to be happy, courageous, confident and powerful - so, what happened? Did you somehow manage to lose these important feelings somewhere along the road of life? No, it’s not your fault. The feelings got submerged beneath a welter of instructions given to you during the early years of your life by people upon whom you depended and whom you trusted - your parents and teachers. They did not mean you any harm; they were doing what they thought was best for you. The way to understand what happened is like this: you are by nature curious, you like to explore, but when you explored as a small child you were often told, “don’t do that,” or simply “no!” You got the idea that certain actions were wrong and punishable. So you stopped exploring - you became risk averse and weary of authority figures.Your nervousness was made worse by the education system. You are a child of the Post Industrial Period who was brought up using Industrial Period training. What happened was that during the century starting in about 1760 man invented machines which revolutionised our way of life. Millions of people left the land and went to work in factories. This created a massive demand for training people in new skills and disciplines. Schools were set up to teach mathematics, engineering and sciences. At the same time people had to be disciplined to turn up for work on time and to work the rigid hours demanded by shift patterns. The abilities to pass exams and behave in disciplined ways became the Gods of society. The beliefs became established that people should be trained to be a certain way and that being that way was “good”. You are a victim of the beliefs that were grooved into you by “the system”, your parents and your schools. They taught you to be the way you are now.The problem is that the training that “the system” instilled in you is rigid. It is a one-size-fits-all straight jacket. It made you think that you should be a conformist, that you should think and behave in the ways that “the system” demands of you. It has not allowed you to develop as the unique, creative individual that you are. When you’ve been disciplined in the ways of “the system” it is common to feel constrained, unable to find a way to express yourself. You are doing your best to comply with a system and to live your life in a way that does not feel right for you. It’s just not natural for you. You are not alone, just about everyone on the planet has been indoctrinated in this rigid way and now finds that the workplace which reinforces the rigid disciplines of “the system” makes them feel constricted.So the question then is: “how do I release myself from the chains of other people’s idea of how I should be and become the happy, confident, independent and powerful person that I would love to be?”The answers this and many more of your questions are in my books.Why writing because I spent too much of my own life trying to please other people, worrying about what other people might think. This is a ridiculous thing to have done. Why be concerned about what other people think or by the threat of consequences that might happen? They probably won’t happen. Why not simply be concerned about how to enjoy the experience of life. That way you may occasionally influence what other people think, but you don’t need to worry. The key to happiness is simply to be your self, not to try to be someone that you’re not, not to be concerned about what other people might think - to simply groove along doing your own thing. It took me a long time to discover this and I was in a lot of pain for much of the time that I was trying to be someone that I am not. Eventually I learned how to break free and express myself.***What Clients Say About David“David is a most astute and exceptionally motivating coach with great personal and professional integrity. For somebody with such depth of experience, he is remarkable in his continuing quest for learning about leading a balanced life.” Lucian J. Hudson, Director of Communications, The Open University“Having David as a coach has made a significant impact to my personal and professional development. His thoughtful, sincere and inspiring attitude enabled me to change the way I think.”Jane Sutton, Associate Director Strategy and Development, RBI“I've worked with David in the context of his NLP coaching and training and I am deeply impressed with the level of humility combined with deep competence that he brings to his work.”Gene Early, PhD, Early Leadership Solutions“I was coached by David during a time that I was managing a very challenging project. David's approach and help made a big difference.”Matt Bye, CTO, eporta“David's coaching was a life changing experience which produced profound effects in both my work and personal life. David understands people very well, particularly the workings of the human mind, and is able to explain your emotions and help you control them whilst giving you the confidence and direction to achieve your goals.”Bob Stark, Commercial Director, Portafina“I've attended a few courses on developing 'soft skills' and, to be honest, I've gotten very little value from them. That was certainly not the case when working with David! My view on things and myself has been completely transformed. I am grateful for his insight and help.”Chad Macey, Principal Architect, RBI“As a coach, David has the life experience, knowledge, empathy and understanding to listen, guide and mentor. You have the answers inside yourself. David will help you to find them.”Andy Pandini, Actor“David is a fantastic coach. If you want someone to make you and your managers think, to really make a difference, look no further.”Oliver Burns, Group Product and Traffic Director, Totaljobs Group“David’s coaching has fundamentally changed the way I think, and therefor act. I appreciate David’s sincere and open style. Although I’m an extremely private person, his relaxed self confidence put me at ease from the start. This was crucial – else I might not have benefitted from the coaching at all. He doesn’t let me get away with anything, yet he’s always positive and supportive which sets a great example for a young professional. Recently I attended one of his day-long workshops and I learned techniques which I could implement the very next day to stunning effect. From little tricks like breaking state to big things like setting well-formed outcomes, his coaching has really taken me from competent professional to confident executive.Tom Van Aardt, Head of Technology – Flightglobal“I have thoroughly appreciated David’s encouragement, thoughtfulness, generosity, wisdom, kindness and astuteness. David has helped me be clearer about my direction and grasp new opportunities. Working with him has left me feeling uplifted and re-energised. He has the ability to see things from a perspective that is thought provoking and refreshing. Thank you David!”Gale Vincent

Book preview

WHY AM I THE WAY I AM?

I remember the noise of the bombs whistling down out of the sky, the loud crump sound and ground-shaking thuds as they landed. Or do I? Certainly, I was born close to London during the height of the German Blitzkrieg bombing. But do I remember the actual Blitz or do I just remember what people told me? I was only 4 years old when the Second World War ended. I remember seeing the dark, threatening images of Doodle Bugs flying above on their way to bomb London and listening for the moment when their engine would cut out, and they would start to descend in eerie silence towards their target, and then the enormous bang as they exploded. Or do I? Are my memories based on seeing old black-and-white movies of the V2s on their way to London?

Whether my memories are true or false, I certainly picked up the fear amongst the adults around me who spoke constantly about the war, the atrocities, the casualties, the devastation of homes and factories and their concerns for their safety and the safety of those they loved. My early introduction to the feeling of fear was graphic and constant. It embedded the feeling deeply inside my being. It would lead to life-long issues created by my effects to try to avoid experiencing fear. This led to many unwanted behaviours, many of which I deemed to be beyond my control for much of my life.

Perhaps the best lesson of my life is that such feelings can be contained and controlled - once you know how. That fears don't have to influence our behaviour. That we can overcome a natural instinct to behave in a certain way. Once we gain some measure of control over our feelings, we start to have a choice if we choose to exercise that choice. Then we can become what we were born to become. But you have to know how to do these things and put in the effort to achieve what you want. As the great American football coach Vince Lombardi once remarked: The only place where results come before work is in the dictionary.

My purpose is to tell you the important parts of my story so that you can see how I learned, and thus, you will hopefully see how you, too, can gain some measure of control over your own life so that you can find the means of expressing your true self and experience fulfilment in your life. During the narrative, I will highlight the moments that made a difference, tell you why they were important and show you how you can apply the lessons I have learned in your own life.

Apparently, when my father returned from spending two years freezing and starving in a German prisoner-of-war camp in Poland, he swore that he would never be cold again. As a result, soon after his return to England, I found myself travelling on a troop ship down the Bay of Biscay to Gibraltar. There we stayed for a few months, during which I lost my tonsils and adenoids, and my father lost all his teeth, which had rotted due to two years of appalling prisoner-of-war diet. As my father was serving in a Scottish regiment, I was introduced to the chanter, a reed instrument that is a trainer for learning to play the bagpipes whilst we resided on The Rock. It soon became clear that I had no talent for playing musical instruments. I had far more interest in the Barbary apes that lived on the top of The Rock.

My father's job required some liaising with the US Navy, which had many ships anchored in the Bay of Gibraltar. One night, the captain of one of these ships came to dinner with my parents and brought a gift of two boxes of Mars bars, one for my sister and one for me. Until then, I had never tasted chocolate, so I repaired to my bedroom and, sitting at the window admiring the US Navy ships at anchor in Gibraltar Bay, I consumed the entire box of chocolate. Soon I was violently ill. To this day, I still hesitate when offered a Mars bar. My first experience of aversion therapy.

After our short stay in Gibraltar, we proceeded across the Mediterranean Sea, down the Suez Canal, and into the Indian Ocean. In those days, it was customary for Neptune to make passengers crossing the equator for the first time walk the plank until they plunged into his swimming pool. I found the experience of being chased around the ship's decks by bare-footed sailors dressed as Neptune's messengers and ducked in his pool quite terrifying. But I survived the ordeal and duly arrived in the Kenya port of Mombassa.

I must say that Nyali Beach, which in those days was largely uninhabited, was a wonderful playground for a small boy. I loved the sunshine, swimming out to the makeshift raft anchored just offshore and building sandcastles from the white sand. But we didn't stay long. We soon upped sticks and headed down to Dar es Salaam, where we lived in a nice bungalow situated on a hill overlooking the harbour, which has a tidal range of some 13 feet. On occasions, it seemed to me that I was looking at no more than a muddy creek. Perhaps our bungalow did not overlook the main harbour but only a feeder creek; my six-year-old brain did not configure such information.

Once again, our stay seems, with hindsight, to have been brief. My father, who was by now serving as an officer with the Kings African Rifles, was posted up to Somaliland and left with his regiment of soldiers. My mother, sister and I followed on a coastal trader. I recall a lively game of tag on the ship's deck with the other passengers. During the game, I grabbed the fez from the head of a Muslim passenger who was chasing me merrily. In order to distract his attention, I threw the fez overboard. As the fez spiralled towards the sea, the humour of my pursuer changed dramatically. I hadn't realised that his fez was a symbol of his having made the sacred pilgrimage to Mecca. He was so enraged and so determined to take my life that the captain of the ship had to lock my entire family in his cabin for our safety. Perhaps this experience, coupled with Neptune’s ducking, prejudiced me against the idea of sea travel for many years to come. To this day, the concept of sea cruise holidays holds little attraction for me.

Even in those days, Somaliland was a country in turmoil. Many buildings were bullet-scarred by the recently ended world war; others were in a dilapidated state. The roads were pitted with potholes. The street beggars often had mutilated limbs and open, running sores. The natives showed a surly dislike for Europeans. My sister and I had to travel to school in the back of an army truck filled with empty petrol drums. They were empty until we were each deposited inside a drum for our safety. It was unnerving travelling inside those dark cylinders while the natives threw stones which clanged loudly against the metal sides of our dark hiding places. I don't recall anything about the school. Perhaps I was too traumatised by the trip to the classroom to pay any attention to the lessons.

I do remember the beach in Mogadishu; it shelved very sharply downwards so that I was out of my depth very soon after I started to wade in to swim. Also, on that beach, I recall fishermen selling fearsome-looking swordfish from dugout canoes stabilised by massive outriggers. The manager of the hotel where we lived promised to give me a football but instead gave me a mouth organ, which was a disappointment. However, that harmonica reinforced my understanding that although I enjoy listening to music, I lack the talent to create music.

The best part of Somaliland was a trip upcountry to my father's posting at Isha Badur, a bush outpost. I remember travelling in the cab of a light army truck with my head and shoulders sticking out of a hole in the roof. It was a great adventure as we wound our way along the red dirt tracks through the thorn trees and scrubland.

Once again, we didn't seem to stay long. My mother, sister and I were put on an ancient and very decrepit bus for a trip along rough dirt tracks back to Mombassa. During this trip, I saw my first Masai cattle herders. They looked very fierce in their dark red robes, coloured bead necklaces and massive earrings. They all carried spears and sticks with which they goaded their small herds of goats and cattle. They seemed to be perpetually cleaning their teeth with the frayed ends of small sticks. These fierce men had a way of staring you straight in the eye that was most unnerving. We must have travelled during the rainy season because we regularly had to alight and build mats out of small bushes to enable the bus's tyres to grip so that we could push our transport through huge puddles and over soft ground where the bus frequently foundered in the mud. I recall the bush being more dense than in Somaliland with low savannah trees and long dry grass above which the occasional larger tree rose like a statue.

From Mombassa, we took the night train that wound its way up to Nairobi, where a new blazer and shoes were purchased for me before I was put on an aeroplane. A label was attached to the lapel of my blazer. I had no idea where I was going, but I held tightly to the new toy bulldozer, my mother's parting gift. At the time, I did not realise that I would not see my mother again for four years. It was just before my eighth birthday.

I cannot recall how I got to the boarding school in Salisbury (now Harare). But I remember that the Jesuit priests herded us into the chapel for an evening service on the first evening at the school. My new housemaster insisted that I leave my precious bulldozer on a window ledge outside the chapel, assuring me it would be quite safe. When we came out of the service, the bulldozer was gone. When I complained, the horrible man told me not to tell tales. Thus began my distrust of authorities who are supposed to provide justice for the oppressed and my deep dislike of Jesuit priests. Even today, I would cross the road rather than talk to one of these hypocrites. They preached love yet sadistically took small boys to a sparsely furnished, wooden floored office where they made us stand to attention whilst they wrote our names in a ledger before making us bend over so that they could whip our backsides brutally. They dished out this harsh punishment in their chamber of horrors even for such minor offences as putting our hands in our pockets.

The ill-treatment from the grown-ups at the school starkly contrasted the motherly love to which I was accustomed.

The sudden and complete loss of love heightened the feeling that I had been abandoned by my parents. I felt that there was no one on my side. I had no protection from these atrocious Jesuits or from the school bullies whom the priests did nothing to discourage. I did not feel safe. The feeling of not being safe was so strong that it persists to this day, although to a far lesser degree.

A number of experiences at this school would strongly influence the rest of my life. One was that we were made to stand up in class and read out loud to our fellow pupils. When I arrived at the school, I still had not learned to read properly, so I found the reading-aloud exercises an excruciating, highly embarrassing punishment. Another quarter of a century would pass before I would discover that I am dyslexic. However, the dread of reading aloud to my classmates would re-emerge in later life as a fear of public speaking and making presentations. The weird thing was that I won an elocution contest for reciting, to the whole school, a poem by Edward Lear that I can still remember today. In those days, the concept of learning difficulties did not exist. Students were either clever or lazy or stupid. I was probably labelled in the last two categories.

It is adversity like this that can either bring out the best in us or drive us completely off the rails, although we may not realise it at the time. The fact that I found reading difficult led to my becoming more inventive and more creative in the way that I look for solutions to the issues that I am facing. I have never accepted the one-size-fits-all concept of there being a right solution to problems. I simply look for my own solution. I believe that I do this because I found it so difficult to do things the way everyone else was doing them. Circumstances forced me to find my own way. It was tough at the time, but now I am very grateful for this gift.

A second major memory of this time was of never having any pocket money. Other boys received fruit and cakes from Pockets restaurant in the town, and many had a few shillings to buy sweets and soft drinks at the tuck shop, but I only received the odd small postal order from my father on the rare occasions when he wrote me letters which invariably were filled with invocations to work hard. This experience of poverty, reinforced by my father’s constant moaning that people like us never have any money, was probably the root cause of my habit in later life of believing that I was destined to be forever without money. Perhaps I developed the belief, at some level, that I was not worthy of wealth. I am now grateful that I have never been a slave to money and wealth - rather, I have had the freedom to experiment and look for what is interesting and enjoyable in life.

It was probably the search for distraction from my constant pain that I turned to sport, which became my outlet for self-expression and learning. I was not particularly outstanding as a sport player, but I enjoyed participating and practising. Looking back, I can see that even as a timid young boy, I was prepared to risk life and limb by entering the chamber of horrors where we had to go if we wanted to borrow sports equipment. I would regularly borrow a rugby ball for an hour or two so that I could go off down to