 ‘If you torture the data long enough, it will confess to anything.’ (Ronald Coase) I ran a sense-checking workshop for academic researchers from a variety of different countries and cultures this week. The idea was to double-check the findings from 3 researcher focus groups I ran recently. My intention was to validate, clarify and refine insights and ideas I had heard and distilled from those original groups. So – why is this step important? Firstly, it helps to reduce the risk of my own biases and misinterpretations influencing the results. Secondly, it helps to resolve any unclear points, anything I hadn’t quite understood. Thirdly, it helps ensure that the voices of all are represented in the results, not just those who were perhaps most vocal. Fourthly, it adds credibility and power to the final report. In advance of the workshop, I and a university colleague provided sense-checking workshop participants with a copy of the draft outputs from the focus groups, along with a list of the questions we aimed to explore. The colleague and I opened the workshop with introductions and a brief background and purpose for the meeting, then worked through the questions: To what extent do the summary notes reflect your own experience? Are there any key issues you expected to see, but didn't? Do you think anything has been overstated? Are the terms used clear, accurate and meaningful to you? Are there any differences in how the issues play out across roles or departments? Which follow-up actions would you prioritise, and why?
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 ‘What have you set in motion? You are meant to be. Others you do not know depend on the fruit of your actions.’ (Christopher Chapman) I find that quite breathtaking. Like the butterfly effect, ‘the idea that small, seemingly trivial events may ultimately result in something with much larger consequences’ (Nathan Chandler), it suggests that our everyday actions – or our inactions – can have ripple effects that lay far beyond anything we ourselves could have imagined, known or understood: geographically and generationally. I like Christopher Chapman’s framing of this in his book, Doorways to Hope. He proposes that, in God’s mysterious eternal plan, we each play a significant role – whether we can see it or not. The question it points back to us is, ‘How are you willing to live your life?’ I want my being and my every doing to make a positive difference for the poor and most vulnerable people in the world. This makes my every decision an act of faith, imbued with a spiritual-existential dimension. It provides a sense of meaning, of purpose, that counters despair.  ‘We don’t see things as they are – we see them as we are.’ (Anaïs Nin) Social constructionism is a way looking at how we construe reality to help us make sense of it. The ‘we’ is important here because it’s not just what I do but what we do, what others around us do and what others before us have done. If I haven’t lost you already, imagine seeing a person hand someone else a bunch of flowers. Neuroscience can shed little or no light on understanding this event. That’s because the meaning of giving someone flowers is socially-constructed – that is, it’s something we attribute to the act within a specific culture and context, rather than something that is inherent to the act per se. In my own UK culture, giving a person flowers could mean, for instance: a gesture of romantic love; or of thanks and appreciation; or to celebrate a special occasion; or a token of apology; or a wish for someone who is sick that they’ll get well soon; or a sign of empathy if someone has died. In some cultures or contexts, it could signify wealth (e.g. ‘I have enough money to buy you to a gift’) or imply a request for a response (e.g. ‘Will you marry me?’). Types, colours and numbers of flowers convey different meanings in different cultures too. So, social constructionism: a way of making sense of human sense-making.  ‘To learn through listening, practice it naively and actively. Naively means that you listen openly, ready to learn something, as opposed to listening defensively, ready to rebut. Listening actively means you acknowledge what you heard and act accordingly.’ (Betsy Sanders) I ran a Leading and Influencing Change workshop today for health and social care professionals, focused on introducing and embedding trauma-informed practice in the mental health arena. Ironically, the event took place in an old, abandoned fortress, with the training room in which we met surrounded by symbols of attack and defence: tanks, artillery, torpedoes, tunnels and protective walls. There was also a disused military hut with 007 on the door, a symbol of secretive actors and actions behind the scenes made famous by fictitious spy James Bond. Serving as metaphors, we considered how to shift team and organisational culture away from, at times, a default and subconscious fight-flight, attack-and-defence response in incredibly busy, pressured and complex work environments. We did this by thinking through approaches and behaviours that may look and feel counter-cultural – in practice, if not in principle – in those contexts. It entails role-modelling five key qualities in attitude and action in communications, conversations and relationships: i.e. safety, trust, choice, collaboration and empowerment. What could this look like practice? One participant illustrated it beautifully. When I asked for volunteers, she commented that she felt nervous to take part in an activity in front of the group. Two simple questions can make all the difference here: ‘If you were to do X, what would that mean for you?’ (e.g. ‘I would feel anxious and exposed in front of my peers’) and, ‘Given that, what would you need?’ (e.g. ‘If I could have more information about what the activity will entail, I could make a considered decision’; or ‘If I could sit behind a table, I would feel less exposed.’) This is, at heart, about adopting and modelling a human, invitational and coactive leadership style and approach that takes the voices, hopes and concerns of others seriously. I don’t believe the oft-quoted maxim that people are necessarily and fundamentally resistant to change. In my experience, people may resist a change, even if they agree with it, if they don’t feel heard and understood. Conversely, people may support a change, even if they don’t agree with it, if they do feel heard and understood. Attack-and-defence is a sign that something has gone awry. [See also: Trauma-informed coaching; A safe-enough space]  ‘All the things one has forgotten scream for help in dreams.’ (Elias Canetti) The first dream. I was back at the university where I studied. In reality, I left there almost 35 years ago but it felt vivid, as if now. I stood alone in a long, empty corridor. I became suddenly aware of a whole array of research assignments that I was supposed to have done yet hadn’t. I felt confused and perturbed. And then I woke up. After a few minutes, I fell back to sleep again. The second dream. I was back with a previous employer. In reality, I left there 7 years ago yet it too was vivid, as if now. I was on the top floor of the building and suddenly aware that I had never visited any of the other floors or met any of the people who worked there. As Head of OD, I felt confused and embarrassed. Then I woke up. After a few minutes, I fell back to sleep again. The third dream. It was Christmas Day at my parents’ house. We were preparing for extended family visitors to arrive when I became suddenly aware that, for some reason, I hadn’t bought any Christmas presents for my daughters. I felt confused and disconcerted that something so important had slipped my mind. Then I woke up. This time, I turned on the light and got up. Freudian analysts would have a field day trying to interpret the meaning of these dreams, as if each dimension holds symbolic representational value. I’m drawn to a more recent, alternative approach that pays attention to the underlying emotion in the dream state; in this case, an overwhelming daunted feeling, and what I was saying to myself: ‘How could I have missed this?’ It moves me on to consider: What are my dreams trying to wake me up to notice? Where am I carrying this same feeling in my day-to-day life and relationships now? What (or who) in my here-and-now life am I not-noticing, avoiding or suppressing, yet is calling for attention and expression? What actions do I need to take now, to avoid a ‘How could I have missed this?’ in the future?  ‘A riot is the language of the unheard.’ (Martin Luther King) The recent street protests in the UK, some of which were accompanied by violent disorder, raise urgent and important questions about what lies beneath. A convenient political and media narrative is to blame the ‘far right’; a fairly nebulous and elusive phenomenon since, unlike in some other European countries, the UK doesn’t have anything like France’s National Rally or Germany’s Alternative für Deutschland. There are, however, individual and group influencers with populist, nationalist and, at times, racist agendas. They contributed significantly to fanning the flames of unrest via social media; offering a rationale and focus for anger, resentment and frustration. Yet, I don’t imagine that everyone that took part in protests, whether demonstrators or counter-demonstrators, had a unified or conscious agenda. People and groups can become swept away by intense waves of emotion – a craziness, of sorts, fuelled by excitement, anxiety or other powerful feelings. Some might have sobered-up the next day with a guilty hangover. A key question is what the far right tapped into: what already lay simmering below the surface that they ignited so explosively on our cities’ streets. It’s a question about the conditions in which any extremist ideology and narrative will appear convincing and compelling to those who buy into them. I see a dynamic, concerning interplay of at least three factors at work. Firstly, when people feel alienated and marginalised in a society, extremist groups may offer a sense of identity and belonging: ‘They don’t understand you, but we do.’ Secondly, when people feel confused or anxious in the world, extremist ideas may appear to provide simplicity and certainty: ‘We have the answer to your hopes and fears.’ Thirdly, when people’s lives feel meaningless and, furthermore, they feel powerless to influence or control things that matter to them, extremist stances may provide a sense of purpose and agency: ‘We will change things.’ These three combined: a powder keg.  ‘Stop imagining. Experience the real. Taste and see.’ (Claudio Naranjo) Early predictions that electronic reading technologies would supersede the need for physical paper books proved unfounded. There’s something about holding a book, turning the pages, feeling the paper and smelling the ink that feels tangibly different to viewing text on screen. It’s something about reading as an experiential phenomenon that goes further and deeper than passively absorbing visual input. We’re physical beings and physical touch, movement and feeling still matter to us. I’ve noticed something similar in coaching conversations, stimulated by studies and experiments in the field of Gestalt. Against that backdrop, using physical props that invite physical interaction with those props can create shifts at psychological levels too. I have 4 different packs of cards available*, alongside other resources, and I notice that holding, sifting through and laying out cards can sometimes feel more engaging and stimulating for a client than thinking and talking alone. Each pack has a different purpose and focus. All involve inviting a client to flick through the cards to see which images, words, phrases or questions resonate for them here-and-now. It’s as if, at times, we’re able to recognise someone or something that matters to us, is meaningful for us, by touching and viewing it ‘out there’, rather than ‘in here’. The cards also enable a client, team or group to move or configure them in experimental combinations to see what insights, themes or ideas emerge. (*The Real Deal; Empowering Questions; Gallery of Emotions; Coaching Cards for Managers)  ‘Just like seasons change in nature, they change in our lives as well. And, as they change, they ask different questions of us. What questions is your life asking of you now?’ (Funmi Johnson) I had a great conversation with Funmi, a fascinating and inspiring fellow coach, this afternoon and found her question (above) very thought-provoking. I’m at an age where legacy is a persistent question that calls out to me with growing insistence…and demands a response. Am I genuinely living my life authentically according to the mission and values that I claim to be real and true? Or am I compromising too much of what matters most, deluding myself with a clever façade that even I have found convincing? How deep will my spiritual footprint be? I love Funmi’s question. It stirs the waters and ignites a search.  ‘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.  ‘Human existence is always directed to something, or someone, other than itself – be it a meaning to fulfil, or another human being to encounter lovingly.’ (Viktor Frankl) Existential coaching is a powerful and introspective approach that can empower individuals and groups to confront life's fundamental questions, find meaning and embrace personal and social responsibility. Rooted in existential philosophy, this coaching method guides clients through self-exploration, enabling them to confront their fears and uncertainties and make authentic choices aligned with their values. Here are some examples of existential coaching questions:
Existential coaching recognizes that we all face inherent dilemmas, and embracing these challenges can lead to personal and social growth. Using this approach, the coach serves as a supportive ally, helping clients to confront their concerns, explore their inner personal-cultural truths and develop a deeper understanding of themselves. The client can learn to navigate life's complexities with greater clarity and intention, leading to a more meaningful and purposeful life. [Further reading: Monica Hanaway, The Handbook of Existential Coaching Practice (2020); Yannick Jacob, An Introduction to Existential Coaching (2019); Emmy van Deurzen & Monica Hanaway, Existential Perspectives on Coaching (2012)] |
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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