‘Try to be a rainbow in someone’s cloud.’ (Maya Angelou) I can’t create a rainbow. I can only witness its radiant beauty. A rainbow itself is created by white light, refracted as it strikes droplets of water in the air, often seen most vividly during or after rainfall. Some of the most stunning I’ve seen have been in Scotland where sunshine and rain are common together, with bright-coloured rainbows emerging like curvaceous, prismatic streamers in their midst. The Bible depicts rainbows as signs of spiritual-existential promise, of hope, initiated by God. Again, this isn't something I can make happen. I can only witness it, experience it, be awestruck by it. It’s something, or rather Someone, who clings to me amidst the violent storms, raging winds and torrential downpours of my life. Often, quite literally, this has been the only reason why I'm still alive today. Sometimes, I only perceive or discern the traces of a rainbow after the event. It’s like a mysterious pattern that appears, by faith, and is only visible from a distance. I went to theological school for 3 years. Inexplicably, my fees and living expenses were fully-paid. I remember, however, sitting on the side of my bed, alone and in near-despair. Studying God like studying physics felt like a travesty. Years later, the hidden seeds sown through that experience gradually came to fruition. I can now see the deep wisdom in that youthful decision, that strange prompt of divine opportunity that had felt so hard for me at the time. It was a period that had included a broken engagement, a snapped shin bone, tests for throat cancer and many other painful trials. Yet still, somehow...a rainbow appeared.
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‘If you don’t appreciate your customers, someone else will.’ (Jason Langella) The restaurant came highly recommended and, as it was a special treat to eat out on this occasion, we had high hopes and expectations. The food was reasonable but the drinks were flat. We paid the bill and left, determined not to go there again. And therein lies one of the challenges for retailers in the UK. Many people are too polite to complain but they simply don’t return. ‘Was everything OK with the meal?’ ‘Yes, thank you.’ Big mistake. How about, ‘We hope you enjoyed your meal. In fact, we’ll give you a £5 discount off off your bill if you could suggest just 1 improvement for next time?’ That’s the way to do it. Take seriously the customer experience, elicit useful suggestions and increase the likelihood of a return. This resonates with what I heard at a Balanced Scorecards and Strategy Maps workshop. We were told that the CEO of supermarket giant Tesco doesn’t ask for reports on how many customers visit the stores, but how many come back. Repeat business. That’s the idea and it’s one of the purposes of loyalty cards: to see who returns. Remember too that just 1 unhappy customer can spread the news of a bad experience to other potential customers like wildfire. ‘For me, revolution simply means radical change.’ (Aung San Suu Kyi) I heard a well-known pop psychologist on the radio this week, talking about his new book about how to make your New Year’s resolutions stick. He invited the listeners to buy his book in order to learn more. I didn’t do that, but it did bring to mind a number of things I’ve noticed over the years as I work with people, teams and organisations. I will share a couple of insights here that may be of interest and useful – and I promise not to ask you to buy anything. The first is how hard it can be to make significant and sustainable changes to habitual patterns of thought and-or behaviour. A wise friend, Ian Henderson, illustrates this simply by inviting people to fold their arms. Next, he invites them to fold their arms in the opposite direction. (I found this harder than I had imagined). He goes on to invite them to reflect on what routine they always use to dry themselves after a shower. We are creatures of habit. That’s OK when the routines serve us and-or others well. If, however, people become trapped in, for instance, patterns of tension or stress, if often demands more than fresh thinking, determined effort or will-power to change it. So, here’s the second. Try disrupting the physical context in which it takes place; for instance: meet in a different room or location; use different chairs; sit in different places to where you normally sit; stand up rather than sit down. I worked with a team that felt trapped in conflict. They invited me to help them work through it so I asked that we hold our first meeting where and at the time at which they normally met. When we did so, I asked them where they normally sit, including in relation to each other. (‘Exactly where we are now’). At the next meeting, I changed the time and, before participants arrived, rearranged the room completely, then invited them to sit somewhere different. The shift in group dynamics was remarkable. Disrupting the times and room configuration created enough of a change to enable the team to hold a different spirit, style and type of conversation. This, in turn, helped team members to relax enough to consider and create new possibilities. It released the stuck-ness and enabled a breakthrough of sorts that wouldn’t have been possible by thinking or talking alone. (Like this idea? Look out for my new book…) ‘The currency of real networking is not greed, but generosity.’ (Keith Ferrazzi) One of the skills in Action Learning is to distinguish between a presenter who is wrestling with a question from one who has become completely stuck. In the former case, it’s often most useful simply to sit with the presenter in silence while the question does its work. In the latter, the facilitator may offer the presenter an option of ‘peer-consultancy’, if it might help break the mental deadlock. In order to do this well, however, and to ensure that ownership and agency remain with the presenter, the facilitator can follow a specific sequence of interventions and process steps:
A few words of caution. First, beware of introducing the peer-consultancy approach without checking in with the presenter first. If the presenter is deep in thought, such a shift in approach may feel premature of patronising, as if inferring that they’re unable to work out a solution for themselves. Second, beware of any formal or informal (e.g. age, gender, race) hierarchical dynamics in a group. Presenters may feel that they ought to respond to all insights out of respect for those who shared them, or obliged to agree with ideas proposed by someone they regard as an authority figure. ‘The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious.’ (Albert Einstein) ‘According to these blood test results’, said the consultant, ‘you are dead.’ He stood at the end of my hospital bed scratching his head. ‘Clearly you’re not dead’, he continued, ‘or we wouldn’t be having this conversation. There must be an error.’ He asked a nurse to take fresh bloods and to send them off urgently to the lab. Later that day with a new report in his hand, he looked even more confused. ‘The results are the same. This is impossible.’ We looked at each other. I didn’t know what to say. I had been experiencing severe pain and blackouts, often falling unconscious without warning, and had no idea why. So now the consultant sent me for a CT scan using a radioactive dye to get a clear scan result. The dye triggered an anaphylactic reaction which nearly killed me. An attentive passing nurse pushed an oxygen mask on my face, turned it up full and ran to find a crash kit. Unfortunately, someone had removed the adrenaline jab and hadn’t replaced it. I was within 2 minutes of death. By divine coincidence, that same day my ex-wife left me and took our 2 daughters with her: some would say that when it rains, it pours… I can’t explain these strange medical mysteries yet I can, by faith, trace a rainbow through the rain. The hospital drama that distracted me from difficult home events; the nurse who recognised and responded to my crisis; the availability of specialist medical facilities and drugs to save my life; the compassion of my brother and his family who supported me throughout. When have you experienced the mysterious? ‘It’s the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of true art and true science.’ (Albert Einstein) ‘At such moments we don't choose silence...but fall silent.’ (Philip Simmons) As 2024 opened, I found myself yearning for silence, a sacred space to sit quietly and alone with my face turned unequivocally towards God. I found such a place in Alnmouth, a Franciscan retreat centre in the North East of England. Its spirituality focuses on Jesus and the poor and that matters deeply to me too. I had first found Jesus through a close friend who went on to become a Franciscan so this felt like a familiar place, like returning home after a long journey away. I packed a case and went. The days started early and ended late with a time of silence or spoken liturgy in a simple candle-lit chapel. As I sat or stood listening to the devout Franciscans chanting words slowly and meditatively from the Bible, my attention was drawn to a stark representation of Jesus on a cross at the front, straining to look upwards to his Father. I felt hurt, angry and confused by his suffering and, at the same time, intensely frustrated by my own weak faith and what the Bible calls sinfulness. He deserves better. As I sat in the deep silence that followed, I recalled some words from Iain Matthew (The Impact of God): ‘Someone is there – you notice out of the corner of your eye – Someone is there looking at you...and has been for some time. You realise your whole Christian life is an effect, the effect of a God who is constantly gazing at you – whose eyes anticipate, penetrate and elicit beauty.’ It isn’t about me. It's about God's expression of amazing divine love that holds the power to transform everything. ‘Tomorrow is the first blank page of a 365-page book. Write a good one.’ (Brad Paisley) It was my first time at a Greenbelt Festival in the UK and I remember wearing simple sandals made from recycled car tyres and a leather headband to keep my hair out of my face. I painted a cross on my forehead, carried a bamboo flute (which I couldn’t play) and walked with friends amidst the crowds towards the centre stage. Radical social activist, Jim Wallis, was the keynote and he spoke passionately about a place in the Bible where Jesus reveals who and what matters to him in this world. I felt spellbound. It resonated deeply with my own spiritual convictions – nothing to do with religious moralising and everything to do with a vision, an ethic, a possibility, a relationship. ‘I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’ In this narrative, those to whom Jesus is speaking were puzzled and asked when they had done this. ‘Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ Jesus was sharing with astonishing clarity the lens through which he views our priorities and relationships. The way we treat others in need – the poor, the outsider, the sick, the oppressed – is the way that Jesus considers we reflect and treat him. Please God, as we enter this new year: shine your light of love, truth and hope through my life with ever-increasing brightness. ‘Learn from history, maintain your mystery, take your victory.’ (Amit Kalantri) Sometimes, we need to look back to look forward and the New Year can present us with a special opportunity to do just that. We could think of this as analogous to an annual performance review, where we pause for a moment and take stock of progress and learning so far before moving on. At a personal level, I’ve been thinking and writing quite a lot recently about Kairos moments in my own life that have, in retrospect, often proved pivotal. These experiences carry a spiritual quality and significance for me that both transcend the temporal and reveal a deeper sense of meaning. An instance comes to mind when, 3 days into a leadership role in a new organisation (to me), my line-manager called me into his office to confess, in deep disappointment, that funding for (a) a new leadership coaching programme and (b) a new management development programme, both of which were to lay in my area of responsibility, had been slashed as part of broader financial cuts. He apologised that, as a consequence, these flagship initiatives could no longer go ahead. I could see a look of anxiety on his face wondering, I imagine, how I might react to this bombshell news. I prayed silently then responded in a spirit of curiosity that, if these initiatives were priority, I’d just need to find a different way to achieve them. I thanked him for being open, prayed, then placed an invitation on LinkedIn, asking if anyone would like to offer pro bono coaching support for leaders in a national UK charity. Within 10 days, 180+ people had responded to offer their services. I also prayed and asked around if anyone would be willing to run a pro bono management development programme. A prestigious agency responded and ran an annual programme for us for 4 years running. I’m reflecting on why this experience came to mind for me now. It happened 10 years ago yet still feels so profoundly resonant as we approach the New Year. The first lesson for me is that it’s not all about me. God is capable of doing far more than I can ask or imagine. The second is the rich relational resourcefulness of networks, the kindness of so many people who are willing to offer themselves in heartfelt service when offered meaningful opportunities to do so. The third is the power of invitation, not expectation, that draws people freely into co-creative partnership to do something amazing. 'The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved.' (Victor Hugo) Bursting with excitement would be an understatement. These poor Filipino children today know that something very special is about to happen, but neither they nor their families know what it will be. Living in a very poor community that exists at subsistence level in a cemetery, they don’t normally expect to be seen, let alone be treated to gifts. When Jasmin, her daughter and her small team of helpers appear, the whole community goes wild. Supported by friends in the UK and Germany, every one of the 127 children receives a mattress to sleep on. Christmas gifts and food parcels are distributed too. With wide smiles of joy, the whole community springs spontaneously into song and dance. God is amazing. Love in action. We can be hope. Today is a dark day. The wind and rain outside reflect the deep, dark feeling inside. One of the women who featured in small things, the video, in July…has died. She didn’t die from an accident or a serious illness. She died because she is poor. She loved to help others and brought joy to the lives of those who live on the far edge of hope. That is her tribute – her simple, beautiful legacy. With no shoes to wear, she got a small cut on her foot. Not wanting to burden her family with the cost of help that they too could ill afford, she hid it from them and didn't say anything. She wrapped a makeshift bandage around it, but couldn’t keep it clean. With untreated diabetes, no sanitation and being too poor to access doctors, hospitals or medication, the wound festered and killed her. I hate that the poor are so vulnerable. And I’m trying to remind myself: we can be hope. |
Nick WrightI'm a psychological coach, trainer and OD consultant. Curious to discover how can I help you? Get in touch! Like what you read? Simply enter your email address below to receive regular blog updates!
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