 ‘Father, forgive them because they don’t know what they’re doing.’ (Jesus Christ) I spent some days last week on a retreat at a Franciscan centre in the bitterly cold North East of England. It’s something I choose to do each New Year these days – a retreat, that is, not to half freeze to death in a stone-built monastery. It’s a way of transitioning from the past year to the new, a spiritual defragmentation or reset of sorts, with a renewed and refreshed focus on God. The biggest challenge each time is to get over myself, to somehow disentangle myself enough from the fog of my own mental and emotional hopes, fears and preoccupations to see…Jesus. A recurring theme that emerged for me during my times of prayer and reflection was power. I read two starkly-contrasting accounts of people at Auschwitz during the Nazi era: the brutal guard Irma Grese who used her structural power to commit the most unspeakable acts of violence against prisoners, vs the compassionate Franciscan friar Maximillian Kolbe who used his personal power to die in the place of another prisoner. Both were ordinary human beings. A critical, defining difference in that moment, in that context, was how each abused or used their power. I sat now in the candle-lit chapel, gazing at a harrowing figure of Jesus Christ, represented here as apparently-powerless, cruelly-beaten and tortured on a cross, straining upwards to see his heavenly Father. It struck me how the world has become dominated (again) by power figures and ideologies, finding their voice through polarising politicians and political religions, and how so many people are flocking to choose them. It’s symptomatic of widespread feelings of powerlessness and a desire to increase our own power via their power. Grese vs Kolbe? Father, forgive us.
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 ‘Reflexivity is our own self-reflection in the meaning-making process.’ (Margaret Kovach) It’s a bit like looking in a mirror. When I look at any situation and myself in relation to it (e.g. who or what I’m focusing on (and not); how I’m feeling; the stance I’m taking), what could it reveal about me?’ If I grow in awareness by responding honestly to such questions, it could enable me to grow in authenticity and open up fresh insights and ideas for action. Example: ‘My team colleague is under-performing and I’m frustrated with her laziness. It annoys me that I have to do extra work to make sure we don’t miss deadlines.’ On the face of it, it sounds like a simple description of my colleague’s behaviour and impact. Yet what reflexive insights could this reveal about me (and, perhaps, my broader cultural environment too)? Let's think. It could, for instance, say something implicitly about my own beliefs; assumptions; values; filters; expectations; hopes; preferences; fears; norms or needs. (I could, critically, substitute ‘own’ with ‘cultural’ in that list – it’s about me, but it’s not only about me.) By coaching a person to work reflexively in this way, they can choose afresh how to respond.  ‘Reflective thinking turns experience into insight.’ (John C. Maxwell) In his short booklet, Coach the Person Not the Problem, Chad Hall distinguishes helpfully between different focus points in coaching relationships and conversations. He observes that new coaches often focus, along with the client, on the issue or problem the client hopes to address and resolve. In doing so, they enter into something like an alliance, seeking to solve the challenge together. The coach risks, however, falling into diagnostic problem-solving mode or getting lost with the client in the client’s own perspective on and experience of the issue. Hall contrasts this consulting-type approach with that of a more experienced coach who holds their attention on the client, while the client focuses on their issue. In this scenario, the coach aims to enables the client to explore, make sense of and resolve the challenge for themselves with the coach acting as facilitator for the client. The coach may pose questions that enable the client to explore the issue more deeply or broadly, perhaps by focusing on goals, realities in the client’s situation, what their options are and, in view of that, what they will choose to do. Hall contrasts this reflective-type approach with that of a psychologically-oriented coach who may invite the client to focus on themselves, with the issue they are raising acting like a mirror. It’s a reflexive approach that, in Hall’s view, can move a client beyond immediate problem-solving to personal transformation. The coach may invite the client to notice, for instance, what they are focusing on (and not), to reflect on how they are framing an issue or situation, or to explore what that reveals in terms of personal beliefs and values (a bit like in supervision). I would add 2 further dimensions, the first of which could entail focusing for a moment on the dynamic taking place between the coach and the client and exploring tentatively if that could represent a parallel process, a relational re-enactment of what is taking place between the client and a key person with whom they are engaging in their situation. The second could be to focus critically on what, potentially, the client’s perspectives, feelings and responses could reveal about cultural, contextual or systemic influences that may well be impacting on them.  'We don't get to choose how we come into this world - but God gives the freedom to choose how we live in it.' (Frances Cabrini) The end of a year and start of a new one marks a transition point in the calendar and, at times, in our own lives too. It’s an opportunity to look back, re-evaluate, learn and make choices before casting our eyes forward to take next steps in a future direction. I find the best way I can do this is by taking time away from day-to-day distractions in silence, to sit before God and before myself, as if looking into a mirror long and hard to face whatever may surface into awareness. This kind of reflective examination sometimes helps me to avoid falling into repeating patterns of thought and action, often based more on habitual routines than on conscious decisions. Part of the challenge we may encounter is self-deception; made more difficult by subconscious projection (that is, framing others in ways that distort reality) and introjection (that is, framing ourselves in ways that distort reality). The subconscious part means we do it without being aware that we’re doing it. It’s a kind of fooling ourselves about fooling ourselves – a double bind, if you like. There’s a risk, on the one hand, that we believe what we want to believe – which is a way of defending ourselves from anxiety, confusion or stress – or, on the other, we believe what we fear most – which is a sign, driver and consequence of anxiety. And both without knowing it. So how can we get past this? I try a number of strategies. On the foundational hope, purpose and ethics front, I reflect prayerfully on the Bible and on other spiritual resources. On the professional development front, including to address my own hidden assumptions and risks of avoidance, I employ a talented coach who’s high in stimulus and in challenge. On the fresh thinking front, I network, read articles and write blogs to share and invite insights and ideas with and from others. On the international front, I work cross-culturally and, on occasion, visit other places and cultures. Taken as a whole, these approaches help me to stay, as well as I can, at the edge of my calling.  ‘The question is to provoke fresh thought, not to elicit an answer.’ (Stephen Guy) I thought that was a great way of framing it. At an Action Learning Facilitators’ Training event with the NHS this week, we were looking at open coaching-type questions in the exploration phase of an Action Learning round and how they differ from, say, simple questions for clarification. A great question for exploration often stops a presenter in their thinking tracks. We may notice them fall silent; gaze upwards as if on search mode; get stuck for words; speak tentatively or more…slowly. That’s very different to a presenter who answers quickly, fluently or easily – as if telling us something they already know or have already thought through for themselves. In a different Action Learning set recently, one presenter did just that. They were speaking as an expert, not as a learner, so I invited them to count to 10 silently before responding to any question posed – and invited the rest of the group to count to 10 silently too, after the presenter had spoken, before offering a next question. The idea here was to allow the questions to sink deep. Thomas Aquinas, a philosopher and theologian, commented (my paraphrase) that a great question sets us off on a journey of discovery. Brian Watts observed, similarly, that the word question itself has the word quest embedded in it. Sonja Antell invites a presenter simply – but not always easily – to ‘sit with the question’, to reflect in silence and allow the question to do its work. It’s often the place where transformation occurs.  'The first Advent was the embodiment of God's peace plan.' (CMEP) Advent is the anticipation of an arrival. Not just any arrival, but a re-living of the first arrival of Jesus Christ in this world. It’s also a looking forward in anticipation to the re-arrival of this Jesus in the future. In this sense, Christmas, for Christians, represents a fundamental pivotal event, a radical Kairos moment in human history. Against that backdrop, a Nigerian visitor commented in astonishment at how, in the UK, the Christmas miracle appears to have been drained of all life, vitality and meaning. We seem to have exchanged this amazing earth-shattering event for superficial, glittery materialism. Some Iranian friends asked me to explain what Christmas does mean for Christians. What’s its significance for us now? I drew on Francis Spufford’s words in Unapologetic (2012) that, if we look honestly at our own lives and across the world today, we can see evidence of the ‘human propensity to f*** things up’ everywhere. In biblical language, that’s the impact of sin (an unpopular word and concept today!). In essence, Jesus came to save us from it, to reconcile us to God and, that way, to transform humanity. We can see the effects of authentic spiritual transformation in people’s lives: ‘Mine was a happy family. I had one brother and one sister, but I do not like to talk about it. It is not important now. The important thing is to follow God’s way, the way he leads us to do something beautiful for him.’ (Mother Teresa) ‘Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. He's allowed me to go up to the mountain top. And I've looked over. And I've seen the Promised Land.’ (Martin Luther King) ‘I have lost everything. Now I just want to know Christ, to become like him’. (Paul in Philippians, the Bible) For me, Advent is a period of critical reflection on my own faith and stance in the world, to consider how far I’m allowing God to arrive in and transform my life. As we approach the New Year, I think of Advent as preparation to venture out on a new advent-ure in faith, to discover God afresh who arrives there before us. ‘I’m not saying that I have this all together, but I am well on my way, reaching out for Jesus who has so wondrously reached out for me. I’ve got my eye on the goal where God is beckoning us onward – to Jesus. I’m running and I’m not turning back.’ (Paul in Philippians, the Bible) What does Advent mean to you? May God give you peace and hope. [See also: Arrival; Advent; Discovering our true selves] What marks out professionals from practitioners, the best from the good? It’s a great question. One thing I would suggest is critical reflective practice (CRP). It’s a semi-structured way of learning in and through experience, often with support and challenge from peers, a coach or a non-managerial supervisor. It takes willingness and commitment, an on-going desire to learn, develop and improve. I want to suggest a four-stage CRP process (based on Kolb): experience; reflect; make sense; decide.
It will call us to pause, reflect and act; to be curious and test our assumptions, to expose our sometimes uncomfortable feelings and – for me – to pray for discernment and wisdom. Here are some sample questions. Firstly, experience: What happened? What was/am I aware of? Where was/is my attention? What was/am I feeling? What was/is the impact? Secondly, reflect: What was my intention? What beliefs or values were at play? What didn’t I notice? What assumptions was/am I making? What other options were/are available? Thirdly, make sense: What are the bigger-picture issues (e.g. politics/principles)? What wider team or organisational issues does it reveal? What is the generic issue (e.g. conflict)? What theory or research could I draw on to inform my thinking and practice? What hypotheses am I making? Finally, decide: What have I learned through this? What do I need to do the same or differently in future? How I will I prepare next time? Do any wider issues need to be addressed? What will my next step be? The third stage, ‘make sense’ distinguishes critical reflective practice from simple reflection on practice. It draws the experience and learning of others including academics and peers into the frame. It’s also the area that many professionals neglect because of time constraints – or because they are not sure how to do it. Simple ideas: journals, books, networks, conferences and LinkedIn groups. How good are you at critical reflective practice? What do you do to develop and sustain it?  I met with a group of leaders last week whose roles include mentoring, supervision and pastoral support. The focus of our time together was how to learn and use a coaching approach to enhance the work they do with people and groups. In the midst of conversation, some said they would be interested to hear more about reflective practice and how to do it using coaching skills. Time was short so I hastily scribbled a reflective practice cycle on a flipchart. It draws on work by Argyris, Schon and Honey & Mumford. I explained that there are at least two ways we can think about this. Classical educationalists often start from a focus on theory, core principles etc. (and, in this group’s case, theology) and then move on to look at how to apply the theory to practice. By contrast, reflective practice often starts from observation of an experience (or experiment), then moves on to reflection on that experience, then to consider how it resonates with, challenges or informs a hypothesis or theory. This implies critical thinking and by extension, aims to guide future practice. In this sense, it shares common principles with related fields such as action research. And so how to apply a coaching approach… 1. Contracting: What are we here to do? How shall we do this? 2. Observation: What happened? What were you aware of? 3. Awareness: How did you feel? What assumptions were you making? 4. Sense-making: What surprised or confused you? How does it fit (or not) with what you know/believe? 5. Learning: ‘What have you discovered in this? 6. Action: And so..? What next? When was the last time you paid detailed attention to how you walked across a room at home to open the door? When was the last time you had one of those car journeys where, when you arrived at your destination, you couldn’t remember anything of the journey? The ability of the human body and mind to run on auto-pilot is quite amazing. It enables us to fulfil familiar tasks with minimal conscious effort and attention, thereby allowing us to focus on other things we want or need to.
That’s the upside. And it’s a very useful upside for day-to-day life and work. The downside is that, in some situations, doing what we do because that’s what we do can cause us to miss important factors, significant variables and valuable learning opportunities. This is where reflective practice comes in. It’s what is says on the proverbial tin: reflection before, during and after action. Easier said than done, you may say. True: so here are some tips from experience that I’ve found useful. Tip 1: Pause. If you don’t stop to think from time to time, you may not stop to think at all. Tip 2: Plan. Choose key moments for critical reflection, e.g. at the start of a project – ‘What are we here to do?’; mid-way through – ‘How are we doing?’; afterwards – ‘What are we learning?’ Tip 3: Provoke. Seek out stimulating literature; work with contrasting cultures; invite people to test your assumptions. Tip 4: Practise. Reflective practice takes…erm…practice. Pause, reflect act. Act pause reflect. We often think of coaching as creating a special space for a person to step back, often quite literally, from the pressures of day to day work and life to think about things differently. Indeed, the space we create between coach and coachee offers a great opportunity for change.
Yet space is a bit like elastic. Too much space and coaching can feel slack and lifeless, without definition or form. Too much pace and it can feel rushed, superficial and forced. Navigating space and pace is part of the, ‘How shall we do this?’ contract between coach and coachee. The same question arises in leadership, training and facilitation. When to up the tempo, inject energy, move quickly. When to pause, breathe, process. It’s tricky in mixed groups. Activists want to get on with it. Suck it and see. Reflectors want space to observe it. Make sense of it. So I try to remember: just enough space to allow for reflection; just enough pace to keep things moving. It’s always a judgement call. How much space and pace does this person or group need - in this situation, at this time? If in doubt, discuss it openly and ask for feedback. |
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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