photo credit: Eddi 07

I often get asked, ” So, what is narrative coaching, anyway?” I had occasion recently to put the essence of it on one slide for a client. I found this process very helpful, particularly because so much of what I have done and taught since I midwifed narrative coaching is so experiential. In putting this together, I realised that narrative coaching is as much a philosophy as it is a set of practices, and it is as much about spiritual development as it is about practical change. In some important ways, it is a way of Being more than acts of Doing. I offer these to you, not as the definitive scripture, but rather as an invitation to a conversation.

Narrative coaching is:

1. A sacramental approach to holding space and working with the relational field as it emerges

2. A non-directive, real-time attention to the experience and narration, focused largely on the other person

3. A dynamic use of narrative material as the primary source and narrative pattern recognition as the primary skill

4. An appreciation of identity as situated in communities and embodied in discourse in supporting sustainable shifts in behaviors

5. A commitment to deep, generative listening based in understanding narrative structure, neuroscience, psychology and practice

6. A  process of raising awareness, focusing attention, taking new actions and increasing accountability in yourself and others

7. A methodology for helping people, individually or in groups, to make shifts in their lives one story at a time and with increased agency

I look forward to you comments and your views on what you think narrative coaching is all about!

photo credit: woodleywonderworks
It all started with a simple question to Tom* , “How did you come to be a lawyer?”

He responded with several stories about Bruce*, a lawyer who had been a mentor for him and the other kids in his neighborhood. As a result of Bruce’s influence, Tom carried into adulthood a strong value for justice and fairness and eventually chose a career in law himself. As he and I moved from these stories to the present day, and stories of Tom’s work in coaching other lawyers and developing new modes of mediation, there emerged a moment when it seemed important for the two sets of stories to meet. I said to Tom, “I bet Bruce would be really proud of you right now.” In the profound pause that ensued, Tom was able to recognize for the first time a central narrative thread that ran through his life, share this recognition with someone else as a witness in the present, and connect Bruce’s gift with his current work and vision for the future.

I began a recent book chapter with this story because it illustrates so well a key practice in narrative coaching. It is the art of putting forth a key element from two different stories and inviting the client to see what is discovered when the two are held in the same space. Up until the moment of meeting with Tom, both stories had existed in parallel with one another and been told without reference to the other. Yet, when they were brought together in the same time/space in the conversation, he had a powerful and insightful experience. And in only 5-10 minutes and only using Tom’s own stories.

The more I teach and coach, the more I recognize that one of the biggest dangers as a coach is to make things too complicated. So many of the needs our clients have—even when wrapped in complex dynamics—come down to unmet basic human needs. Part of the value of the narrative approach to coaching is a refined attention to these needs as seen in people’s own stories.

How can you listen differently in your next coaching conversation?

photo credit: JasonRogers
It is the call the parent of a teenager dreads. The policeman phoned at 2:30 in the morning to tell a single mother that her daughter was at the police station. She had been picked up in the wake of a wild party. Relieved that her daughter was not hurt, the mother’s attention quickly turned to her disappointment and anger. The two of them had been fighting for weeks and now the daughter had broken both the agreement with her mom and the curfew of the town.

The mother hurriedly gathered her things, stormed out of the house, cursing her daughter for the embarrassment this would cause the family when the news appeared in their small-town paper the next day. As she drove to the station, silently praying that none of her neighbors would see her, she vented loudly about what she planned to tell her daughter for “screwing up yet again.”

And then . . . she remembered a phrase from a coaching workshop series she was attending as a leader at work: Breakdowns can lead to breakthroughs… She stopped ranting long enough to pause. And hear herself talk . . . and wonder what had gone wrong. And pull over to the side of the road for a minute to settle her breathing. And shed tears as she recognized in that moment the pain she felt in her sense of separation from her daughter. And vow to herself to find a path to a breakthrough starting that night.

And so . . . after she signed the papers at the police station, she began the “long” drive home — with her daughter sitting sullenly in the back seat refusing to engage. In the awkward silence that ensued, the mother finally opened her mouth to speak. The daughter instantly geared up to protest, anticipating yet another big fight, but was stunned to hear her mother say, “It must be hard to be 16 these days. I would like to hear what it is like for you when you’re ready.” And from that pause, the deep listening began . . .

The mother went on to be one of the best coaches in our program for her federal agency, sparked in large part by her own experience that night. She learned that listening is not half of a transaction but rather the whole of an incubation. Rather than perpetuating the same old story with her daughter, she paused long enough to create the space for a different story to become possible. Somewhere within any breakdown are the seeds of a breakthrough waiting to be born. Is that not what coaching is all about?