 ‘The longest journey you will ever take is from your head to your heart.’ (Thich Nhat Hanh) I was co-training a group of managers this week in practical coaching techniques. The workshop included skills practice where one participant would coach another with a third acting as observer, followed by a review of discoveries. One of the things we reflected on was the power of reframing a question from, say, ‘Where are you at in your thinking now?’ to ‘What’s your gut feeling?’; or ‘How realistic do you think that is?’ to ‘How realistic does that feel?’ This kind of framing invites a person to pay attention to their intuition and emotion as potential sources of awareness and energy. It taps into something deep, beyond rationality, and can help make the shift from thinking about an issue or a solution to exercising agency in relation to that issue or solution. Tony Stoltzfus draws on this principle in ending coaching conversations: ‘What could you do?’ ‘Is that a step you want to take?’ ‘Hand on heart, what will you do?’
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 ‘Face the facts of being what you are, for that is what changes what you are.’ (Søren Kierkegaard) In his Christian reflections on psychology, Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard drew an interesting and important distinction between what we are thinking and experiencing in the moment (consciousness), and our ability to reflect critically in the moment on what we are thinking and experiencing (self-consciousness). This concept of a ‘dual-self’, one self thinking and the other thinking about what we are thinking, lays implicitly at the heart of many coaching approaches today. It often starts with noticing what we are noticing (or not), then asking why. [What did you notice about yourself – e.g. your thoughts, feelings and reactions – as you read this blog? What might that reveal to you about you – e.g. your beliefs, experiences or background?]  ‘Listening is the gateway to understanding.’ (David Spangler) I met with leaders at a UK charity yesterday who were thinking through how to create a focused and appropriately-boundaried People & Culture strategy for their organisation as they move forward. I was wearing my organisation development (OD) consultancy hat for the day. The first think that struck me is that they had already being doing lots of People & Culture related things until now. The question was how to create something less reactive and more intentional. As we talked through some of their hopes, aspirations, concerns and challenges in free-flow conversation, a simple framework emerged into my awareness that I thought, perhaps, could provide the foundation for a People & Culture theory of change or strategy map. If rested on 3 main areas: talent, thrive and transform – a convenient alliteration that also reflected their own values and language. We tested this idea and found it worked well as a conceptual map. While the leaders were populating the map with key conditions that would support fulfilment in each area and provide a basis for their own prioritising and action-planning, I noticed how praying at the start of the workshop had helped me hold the day and our work more lightly than tightly, listening for spiritual discernment rather than hard over-thinking. The 3 x Ts felt like a revelation, a realisation, and that made such difference. Listening to God is a lesson in trust.  ‘Trust that what needs to be said will come up naturally, either from you or the other person.’ (Liz Dunphy) A commonly-held belief is that the power and potential of coaching resides in asking great questions. It is after all true that a well-worded, placed and timed question can shift our entire perspective, open up fresh possibilities and create a seismic shift in our sense of agency. I’ve experienced that personally and have seen and felt its impact. What else makes the difference? ‘We learn from an early age what the ‘correct’ answers are – those that will win us approval.’ (Rudi Weinzierl) For coaching questions to land well and to do their work without being deflected by defences, there’s something about being in a receptive state of curiosity, of invitation, of a desire and willingness to learn. Yet, deeper still, I notice the mysterious power of presence. Here I am grappling with a complex issue and struggling to find or create a way forward. Somebody I trust comes alongside me, is really present to me, listens actively and intently without even saying a word…and something shifts inside me. It’s like the presence of God – transformational. A new insight surfaces into awareness as if it were released, catalysed by the quality of contact between us. It was already there, perhaps, but hidden from sight or out of reach. In the moment, it can feel like a realisation, a revelation. Questions stimulate and crystallise our thoughts and galvanise our responses. Emergence arises through presence. (See also: Emergence in action learning; Test and learn; Plan vs prepare)  ‘What others say and do is a projection of their own reality. When you are immune to opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.’ (Don Miguel Ruiz) It is, perhaps, one of the most limiting influences on personal growth and damaging influences on interpersonal relationships. A friend once described it graphically as being like carrying a data projector on one’s shoulder, then projecting images of the things we most dislike about ourselves – without being aware that we’re doing it – onto another person. The resulting impact is that we may well see and criticise those things in another, as if they are attributes of that person, rather than face, acknowledge and address them in ourselves. On the receiving end of projection, it can feel bizarre, like someone is superimposing intentions, attitudes or behaviour onto us that just don’t fit, resonate or ring true. If we challenge or push back, the projecting person is likely to become defensive. Projection is, after all, a way of denying, avoiding or suppressing things that could cause pain or anxiety. I had this experience recently in a disagreement on social media when I asked, genuinely: ‘Are you aware of doing the same thing – here and now – that you say I’m doing?’ They blocked me. Was my question a defended response? It’s a tricky question. How can we know, in the moment, whether we are projecting onto another person or, perhaps, in denial when we reject another’s feedback as projection? It is possible, for instance, that a person is projecting onto us, and yet there is a grain of truth and justification in what they are seeing and saying. It’s also possible that a person could, conversely, idealise us, projecting admirable qualities that they find difficult personally or culturally to acknowledge in themselves. It’s complex. Here are some tips I find useful. Firstly, if I find myself critical of a person, group, issue or action, I try to imagine myself standing in front of a mirror. What could my criticisms reveal about me – e.g. my values, attitudes or instinctive behaviours? Could the other party equally and justifiably level the same criticisms at me? Secondly, if I find another expressing criticism of me, I try to ask myself honestly: how far does this reflect what I know about myself and feedback I’ve received from others? Could there be truth in this from which I can learn?  ‘To understand is to perceive patterns.’ (Isaiah Berlin) According to Gestalt psychology, human beings are hard-wired to see things in patterns. Take, for instance, a tree. If I were to invite you to imagine a tree, it’s likely you would imagine the whole tree (well, at least that part of the tree that is visible above ground). I wouldn’t imagine that you’d picture all its constituent elements separately – cells, leaves, twigs, branches etc. Unless you’re dissecting a tree in a botanical lab. It’s essentially the same idea in music. When we listen to a melody, we hear the tune as a whole, not each individual note separately from the others. In fact, if we were to examine each note in turn in isolation, it’s unlikely we’d be able to discern what melody they form part of when clustered together in a specific configuration. Except, perhaps, if we’re learning to play an instrument and focusing intently on one note at a time. Now this intuitive ability can be a real gift when working with teams, groups, organisations – or even making sense of geopolitics. It means learning to step back from the immediate issue or event and, metaphorically, to narrow our eyes into a near-squint to allow a bigger picture, a wider system, a deeper meaning, the wood for the trees, to emerge. Khalil Gibran observed, ‘the mountain is clearer to the climber from the plain.’ I recognised this phenomenon at work this last week when, in the Netherlands for the first time, the more I relaxed and allowed the language to flow over me, the more of it I could understand. When I paid too much attention to individual words, the more I got stuck. There are parallels in Timothy Gallwey’s Inner Game. Beware paralysis of analysis. Take a breath, relax your grip and notice what surfaces into awareness.  ‘One fish asks another fish ‘How is the water?’ The two swim on for a bit and eventually the other fish replies, ‘What is water?’’ (David Foster Wallace) The more I know, the less I understand. That’s the conclusion I came to after spending 5 years in a Christian faith community in London with 70% Nigerian people, 20% Ghanaian, 8% Mauritian and 2% from the UK. It’s a belief that’s been reinforced by 7 years closely alongside people from the Philippines and other countries in East and South East Asia. Beyond surface-level cultural traits such as distinctive clothing and food, culture runs very deep, mostly well below the radar of conscious awareness. Like the values and beliefs that underpin it, culture often only becomes known, including to ourselves, when we encounter a person or situation that contradicts or clashes with it. It can take us by surprise. I’ve made various cross-cultural blunders on route, ranging from an innocent hug in one context to posing questions in a group in another. On reflection, I’ve sometimes been astounded by my own naivety. Yet few opportunities for learning compare with a cross-cultural experience. It may feel like a bumpy ride on route yet the results can be transformational. [See also: Cross-cultural coaching; Crossing cultures; Cross-cultural action learning]  ‘Think of your techniques as toys rather than tools.’ (Brian Watts) This was an insightful, inspiring and innovative coach who had a gift for working at the learning edge, the leading edge, the sometimes bleeding edge. I had the pleasure of working with him as a close colleague and as a client. For me, it was a profound, at times disconcerting, and yet often invigorating learning experience. It challenged my ingrained, default ways of thinking about and doing my work. It also gave me my first experiential taste of the power of Gestalt. His approach started with a simple and open invitation, ‘Be free, creative and experimental. See what happens. Let the child play!’ His conviction was that transformation takes place (a) through experiential learning, and (b) at what is, for the client, his or her own learning edge. It’s that frontier horizon at which we place our self- and culturally-imposed limits. It’s the stretched and stretching place where we may discover our own subconscious psychological defences too. I talked about a forthcoming meeting with an executive team. I was new in my career and found the anticipation of this encounter very anxiety-provoking. The coach invited me to leave the room, then to step back in as if entering the executive meeting room itself. When I did so, he observed (to my surprise) that I was holding my hand across my chest, as if protecting my heart. ‘How would it be if you were to reveal your heart in that meeting?’ I did so, and that transformed everything. In the creative, experimental spirit that lays at the heart of Gestalt coaching, he reminded me, ‘Sometimes these things will fall flat. It’s always a leap of faith.’ It’s a suck-it-and-see approach: try something new and see what may emerge into awareness. It taught me that learning has rational, emotional, intuitive, imaginative and somatic dimensions. I discovered I stand to learn most when I take a risk, when I dare to step out and beyond my natural-instinctive learning mode. Curious to experience the power of Gestalt? Get in touch! [For more examples of Gestalt coaching in practice, see: Just do it; Crab to dolphin; Let's get physical] ‘Your choice point is the space you're in right before you make a decision.’ (Martha Tesema) You are choosing to read this blog – you could have chosen to do something else instead. You are choosing to read it now – you could have chosen to read it at a different time. In fact, according to psychological choice theory, everything you do is a choice. You’re not always aware of it and it won’t always feel like it. The implications and consequences of choosing one course of action over another can sometimes be so different and so stark that it can feel to, to all intents and purposes, as if there is no choice. Yet you are still likely to choose the action that, for instance, aligns most closely with your values; or has the greatest perceived benefits; or has the least risks or detrimental effects. The implications of this theory are radical and extreme. If every action you take represents a choice, and if you can grow in awareness of the choices you are making at each moment, a vast array of possibilities opens up to you. As you approach any decision, it will be like reaching a road junction, with always at least 2 options available to you. You will no longer be trapped or driven entirely by circumstances. You can exercise greater freedom and personal agency. You can learn to navigate adaptively through choices, like tacking into the wind on a sailboat. You can become more creative and innovative. You can visit places, reach destinations, that you never dreamed imaginable. There is a flip side. If you really are free to choose, you’re also responsible for your every action. It could feel easier to tell yourself that you have no choice – especially since you can’t anticipate every potential ripple effect. It would relieve you of the burden of accountability. You could also feel quite overwhelmed by the dread of having to make choices at every moment in time, in every situation. It could feel like existentialist Jean-Paul Sartre’s nightmare, ‘condemned to be free’. You may try to alleviate the anxiety by telling yourself that you’re a product of your background, upbringing, culture or circumstances. Then you could stop over-thinking, over-analysing, and get on with your life. So, how to handle this paradox? How to create the liberating freedom of expanding one’s sense and reality of choice whilst also to acknowledge the ethical and practical responsibilities it carries with it? First: awareness. Here’s a simple exercise. Write down a paragraph of no more than 100 words that describes the last meeting you had with a colleague. Now, underline every word that represents a choice point in what happened. If you do this rigorously enough, you will be amazed at how much of the text is highlighted. Now the stretch, a thought experiment: jot down at least 2 different choices you could have made at each choice point. Try to be creative and courageous as you do this. Second: responsibility. To build on this exercise, jot down a list of key criteria that will help you to ensure focus, priorities and boundaries to your decisions and actions. Here are some examples: ‘make best use of my time; achieve my career goals; develop the team’s potential; improve quality of relationships; create best value for stakeholders’. These criteria reflect and represent your values. Finally, test the actual choices you made, and the hypothetical choices you could have made, against these criteria to take note of what you could have done differently, what you could do next time and what lines you will not cross. Now – it’s your choice: given what you know now, what will you do with it? (See also: Choose; Choice; Agents of Change) The best of intentions. How often we do things with good motives and yet, in spite of that, our actions have unintended consequences. It’s often because we haven’t known or understood the wider implications of what, where, when, how or with-for whom we do something. We may, for instance, offer support to a specific person, team or group…only to discover that a different person, team or group perceives that intervention as partisan, favourit-ist or creating unfair advantage.
Here’s an extreme. A friend was delivering aid to a poverty-stricken village in Sudan when he was stopped at gunpoint by militia from a neighbouring village. He was forced to the ground with rifle barrel pressed hard against the back of his head whilst the group relieved him of the vehicle and relief supplies. It turns out the group and its community were envious and resentful that they were being effectively ignored whilst supplies were being provided to a different village. Or here’s a less extreme example. I spoke with an emotional intelligence (EI) specialist this week about using psychological mentoring, coaching and tools to raise awareness and insight, with a risk that some clients may use it in weaponised form to manipulate colleagues or customers. It points to a real need to pay attention to wider systemic, cultural, ethical, political and longer-term considerations when seeking to do the right thing – a principle known as ‘primum non nocere’. If you’re a leader, coach, OD or trainer, here are some questions for critical reflection: When have you acted in good faith to resolve one issue, only to discover that your interventions have inadvertently incentivised, precipitated or exacerbated another? How do you manage the tension of never fully knowing or understanding the potential implications of everything – and yet still taking meaningful stances, decisions and actions? What is your best advice on ‘do no harm’? |
Nick WrightI'm a psychological coach, trainer and OD consultant. Curious to discover how can I help you? Get in touch! 
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