coaching, My story

The Embodiment of Ease

mountain
source: Kripalu Yoga

As one of my coach credentialing requirements, I must complete a series of “mentor coach” sessions with the founder of my training program. I just finished my third such session with S a few hours ago and I am still thinking about it, or, should I say, feeling it. We have been looking at the International Coach Federation (ICF)’s Core Competencies, which include skills such as active listening and powerful questioning. For the first two sessions, we focused on these competencies in the context of my work with a client.

The way a typical coaching session is structured is, after the initial pleasantries are over, the conversation shifts to an update about progress made since the last session. The “coachee” talks about what she’d like to work on in general, and then we narrow the focus to what could be accomplished during that particular session. I noted that I had been feeling “stuck” in building my coaching website, and, in effect, launching me-as-coach into the larger world. Instead of speaking about my client, S allowed us to deviate from the script.

My trouble still remains in deciding how much myself to include in my professional website. I am trying to create an online presence that feels

  1. authentic (represents who I am as accurately as possible, and connects with my intended audience)
  2. cohesive (tells a story that honors my varied identities as an artist, a writer, a teacher, a scholar, and patient-advocate/peer)
  3. authoritative (conveys the fact that I am uniquely qualified for my particular niche)
  4. engaging (inspires people to want to work with me; is not rigid or stuffy)

For the past two weeks, I have been sucke(re)d into a self-inflicted vulnerability vortex with this question: how much of my personal struggles do I share in order to explain my passion for this particular work, but not to undermine my credibility as a professional?

S sensed that this issue was holding me back and asked which of the ICF competencies we might use as the focus of our call to address it.

I immediately came to Establishing Trust and Intimacy with the Client, which, at the Master coach level, entails (emphasis mine):

  • Coach is willing to be vulnerable with client and have client be vulnerable with
    Coach.
  • Coach confident in self, process, and the client as a full partner in the relationship.
  • Sense of complete ease and naturalness in conversation; coach does not have to “work” to coach.

Although we usually role-play with S as client and me as coach, S proposed that we explore my “stuck-ness” in a mini coaching session, and debrief about it afterward. She asked if we could record our call so I could reflect on it later, and, with my permission, she could use it with future students. I immediately agreed.

After I floundered for a bit explaining the root of my problem (which was a combination of being “confident in self” with a sense of “complete ease”), S asked how it would feel to spend an hour working on my site and then just publish it (this how would it feel question, in coach-speak, is called visioning). Of course that would feel great. How would I like to move that forward? I could update my site immediately after our call, for starters. Knowing that I often operate in overthinking mode, S asked what else I might do to embody that sense of ease and confidence. What might that look like?

Wait. What?

Damn. Embodiment. That’s it! Embodiment goes beyond thinking or feeling or talking or doing. It is simply being, taking up space that has a shape. Thinking, feeling, talking, and doing are occur in and through the body. So what would the embodiment of ease look like? I immediately went to yoga: Tadasana, or mountain pose, standing tall with arms at sides, palms facing out. It is not an aggressive—or even assertive—power pose; it is simply a grounded, open one. 

So after I exhausted myself with rationalizations, I went back to my body.

Tadasana.

 

coaching, Support System

Compassionate Rabbits

rabbit.jpg

Everyone seems to be talking about curious compassion lately.  I saw it in Brene Brown’s new book, Dare to Lead, and in Michael Bungay Stanier’s book, The Coaching Habit, and even heard on the How to Be Awesome at your Job podcast while I was at the gym this week. When I heard the phrase a fourth time in class this afternoon, I knew something was definitely up.

So what is curious compassion, anyway?

It means listening to someone else’s story and withholding judgment—not waiting for your turn to speak, but just holding a space for the other person to feel whatever it is they’re feeling. The next part is even harder: approaching any response or reaction from a place of curiosity rather than one of judgment. In the case of a friend who is stressed out or upset, this might mean asking, “what would support from me look like?” This is much better than the half-assed, “Let me know if you need anything” or any unsolicited advice.

Let me give you an example. Recently, a colleague was stressed about marketing materials for an event that was due to happen in a few weeks. There were multiple layers of approvals that needed to happen before we could post our flyer, and she was really worried that we wouldn’t have it out in time to get a good turnout for the event. When she voiced this concern, my attempt to reassure her came out as, “Don’t worry – we have plenty of time. It’ll be fine.” Then I caught myself. I apologized, recognizing that my response was pretty invalidating. I was, in effect, telling her that she didn’t have the right to feel as she did. And when is the last time the phrase “don’t worry” worked for anyone? Exactly. My next attempt was not much better: I said, “I know how you feel; I get anxious too.” But I don’t know exactly how she feels. Damnit; this is hard!

This reminds me—I read another good book this week, a children’s picture book called The Rabbit Listened by Cori Doerrfeld. It teaches kids empathy and non-judgment. Taylor, a little boy dressed in striped pajamas, is building an elaborate structure with his blocks and it tumbles down. He is inconsolable. A parade of zoo animals pays their respects, offering suggestions or advice like “Get mad!” Or “Go for a walk!” Not to be a spoiler, but you know the Rabbit is going to have a different approach. He just sits silently with Taylor in his distress, and the boy feels safe to explore his feelings and share his frustrations. By the end, he begins to play with his blocks again.

Curious compassion would be just listening without the urge to problem solve or jump in with my opinion. It is holding space for the other person to express themselves fully without fear of being bulldozed with my damn opinions. We have to get out of the framework of quick-fix solutions. It’s much easier easier to make our own discomfort go away than to sit with a friend who is experiencing it.

So let’s all channel our inner rabbits…