Have you ever noticed that certain stories or story lines keep returning in your life? Sometimes these returns are developmental, e.g., as with the notion of karma and the integration of shadow elements we’ve discarded along the way. Sometimes these returns are intentional, e.g., the final stage of the heroic journey as we return ‘home’ with the gains from our passage. I see this all the time with clients who keep circling back through a series of stories—all revolving around a similar theme that slowly crystallizes and the heart of it becomes clear. It is from this clarity that the deepest sense of their calling becomes apparent . . . and they now know what must be done.

Finding our way

The goal as narrative-based coaches is to be patient and present enough to let clients’ stories flow, gently guiding them along the path as it emerges.

Do you have the patience to wait
till your mud settles and the water is clear?
Can you remain unmoving
till the right action arises by itself?
(Lao-Tzu)

In the busyness of our lives, it is so easy to overlook these often subtle rhythms and patterns. As part of my own discernment process these past few weeks, I’ve been slowing down to think about the purpose of money in my life. One outcome of this process led me to Frederick Marx, a documentary film maker most well-known for his role in Hoop Dreams. In doing so, I realized that I had lost touch with the importance of place, of home, of sanctuary to me. Is not that in some ways what the innate drive for “return” all about?

Making new choices

As a result, I’ve decided to make a serious donation to help him finish his next film about Zanskar, the last remaining Tibetan Buddhist society with a continuous lineage (dating back thousands of years). The story is about two monks who are instructed by the Dalai Lama to do everything in their power to insure that Zanskar’s culture, language, and religion survive. This is a movie about their journey back to Zanskar. You can read about the 17 paths here.

What stories are cycling back into your life these days, carrying with them messages for you? What “mud” needs to settle in your life settle so you can more clearly see the next right action on your journey?

photo credit: freeparking

Thanks to Jo Carson for reminding me of Gregg Braden’s story about the true nature of intentions: While traveling with a Native American rainmaker in a drought-stricken part of the desert of the American Southwest, he witnessed the rainmaker at work. Once he was done, Gregg asked the man if he had prayed for rain. To which the man said “No.” When asked why, the main responded, “You pray for rain, you don’t get anything. You have to feel the rain, and smell it, see what it does for the land. You have to be the rain. You have to pray rain.

Where is my faith?

It seems like a timely story as we wrestle in the U.S.—and now globally—with significant economic challenges. Why, you might ask?! Because in some ways it is a crisis of faith. Not just faith in our money and our banks and our leaders, but ultimately  faith in ourselves. While many of us have seen this coming, it has been unnerving to say the least as it has spiraled down so quickly. We doubt ourselves and worry for our future. Many people have been left gasping on the cusp of a momentous election, wondering when the rain will come to quench the fires of our anxieties. Enter the story . . .

The “bail-out” merely postpones the inevitable hard choices in front of us regarding reconstructing our lives and our identity to be more sustainable and equitable. As the man said, if you pray for rain—by standing outside the system and hoping to be rescued—you get nothing. It is like clients who want their lives to be different but they don’t want to change.

What is mine to do?

One thing I am taking from this time is to look at my own willingness to pray rain. I can’t wish it all away. How do I need to change my habits, my attachments, my willingness to sacrifice for my daughter and those who will come after me in order to create a healthier life? It is a time for courage, compassion and imagination in seizing this moment instead of being seized by fear.

The old stories about consumption as salvation, celebrities as heroes, greed as virtue, and war as a solution have run dry. It is time we create and live new stories with our lives. It is time to be the rain! And so, I will add my drops to help bring about that new story. . .

photo credit: Aidan M. Grey

I was away last weekend in the mountains of New Mexico for a New Warriors Weekend sponsored by the ManKind Project. It truly was a transformative experience for me both personally and professionally. I would highly recommend it to any man who wants to honestly engage his deeper masculinity and his submerged shadows in order to take both his life and his service to a higher level. The world needs us to be more awake and alive. I was privileged to be a man among men who are committed to that journey.

Where are you holding on?

The thought for today’s post came while I was holding a pine cone while out on a brief walk as part of the experience. I flashed back to a time when I was holding a similar pine cone. I was standing on the western coast of Italy in 1999 overlooking the ocean near the town of Portofino. I had received news the night before that my father had died back in California. I had been led by Spirit to find this spot in order to say good-bye to my dear father since I would not make it back there for a few days. I arrived there just as the sun was setting and in a place that reminded me of the coast of northern California where we had grown up. I’ve held on to that pine cone, both literally and figuratively, as a link to my dad and a memory of that place ever since then.

Where can you now let go?

While I’ve always held the pine cone as a symbol of new life, its meaning shifted for me in the context of the recent weekend. Standing in the high desert mountains, I came to realize that the pine cone’s true purpose is to “die” and fall to the ground so that new trees can be born. It was no longer of service to my father or myself to act as a guardian of the sacred cone. Rather, my choice now is to release it so that its mission can be accomplished. As part of this process, I released another huge layer of my own illusions of immortality in order to turn more of my attention to the “trees” I want to leave behind.

Pine cones need to fall to the ground. In honoring this truth, I was able to leave the weekend much lighter and committed to doing the work that needs to be done. I invite you to identify the “pine cones” you carry for others — and the stories you keep telling yourself in order to keep them in place. Let me fall to the ground so they can fulfill their purpose in the world and you can more passionately and completely fulfill yours. Nothing grows from seeds you hold.

David

photo credit: sbblackley

The title for today’s post honors the recent death of Richard Wright, founding member of the legendary rock band Pink Floyd. In my work with clients, we often focus on creating the ‘container’ in which they can feel safe enough to openly and honestly engage in the stories they’ve long told themselves. It is from this place that they can be courageous enough to explore what else is possible. It is as if they are asked to make new choices about whether they want to add the next ‘brick’ (a story about an experience) to an existing wall or to a new path (the larger narratives we tell and live).

Are you a security guard or a seeker?

One is about security and one is about seeking. While both are important at the right time in coaching and in life, the former is often informed by our fears while the latter is generally informed by our hopes. As Ira Chernus recently wrote, “Whenever people shelter behind walls for protection, they reinforce the fears that sent them behind those walls in the first place.” While the recent economic events in the U.S. have caused many people, myself included, to pay a new kind of attention to issues of real security, I can’t help but see a need to retain our commitment to seek new paths from this place we are in.

Which story are you going to reinforce?

Narrative coaches help their clients to increase their ability to notice the “brick” in their hand and be mindful and courageous about the chocies they make in the moment as to which story they are going to reinforce. This image fits well with what we know neurologically in terms of how habits are formed through the reinforcement of certain neural constellations.

There are certainly times when we all need a healthy and reassuring dose of stability and security, particularly in times of duress and change. However, there is a great need in these times of extraordinary flux to equip clients to fully step onto the pathes in front of them—even those that are not fully formed yet.

Where are you putting your “bricks” today as you think about your most significant experiences and contacts? Are you adding to the walls around yourself and/or others — or are you using them to extend the paths toward what is possible?

photo credit: Serendigity

I was struck by the closing lines of a TIME magazine article yesterday, “[Obama's] story of a boy whose father came from Kenya and mother from Kansas takes place in an America not yet mythologized, a country that is struggling to be born—a multiracial country whose greatest cultural and economic strength is its diversity. It is a country where our children already live and that our parents will never really know. . . But that vision is not really sellable right now to a critical mass of Americans. They live in a place. . . where myths are more potent than getting past the dour realities they face each day.”

What are the myths we need now?

It seems to me that one of the greatest gifts of narrative coaches is their ability to help people re-mythologize their lives in keeping with what is being asked of them. Sometimes it is about relinquishing stories that no longer serve them . . . sometimes it is about shifting stories that no longer match their current realities . . . and sometimes it is about birthing new stories that provide a better path to the future they want to create.

It is tempting in this ‘Alice-in-Wonderland’-like time around the U.S. presidential elections for people to accept the frames that are spun, become seduced by packaged ‘myths’, and fall into the polarities that are evangelised as gospel. However, the deeper and truer mythic function is that of reminding us of the broader principles of human relations. These myths tend to harden as nostalgia when we lack sufficient ability to situate and know ourselves in changing times. It is no surprise that when people are in these places, many are swayed by those who tap into the latent potency of such fantasies. As they say, energy follows attention.

Finding a sense of place

The U.S. is on the cusp of a significant juncture in its young history. It seems to me that the optimal choices involve helping Americans step into a deeper and richer mythology about what it means (and looks like) to be a great nation. Doing so will enable us to gracefully and fruitfully change our stories about dreams and empires. Part of this process will require us to join together in remythologizing what we mean by ‘family’ and ‘home.’ The power of this quest was brought home to me in reading J. Edward Chamberlin’s book, ‘If This Is Your Land, Where Are Your Stories?’ when he writes, ‘This is the home we all long for, the Jerusalem are not to forget. It may be the place we came from, five or fifty of five hundred years ago, or the place we are going to when our time is done. It is the place we still haven’t found but are looking for. The place that gives us a sense of self, and of others.‘

Welcome home.

photo credit: mufan96

It has been a number of weeks since I last posted to this site. It is time to hit the ‘play’ button again…

I have been recuperating from surgery for thyroid cancer and attending to some needs away from the worlds as they exist on my computer. While the prognosis on the health front is excellent, it was quite the experience being on the the ‘big C’ roller coaster. One lesson learned was the limits of statistics (especially compared to the power of stories). I was told there was only a 3% chance that my growth was cancerous. However, when I was informed post-surgery that I was a part of the unlucky few, I realized that the emotional gap between 0 and 3 was much larger than the numerical one would suggest.

The mountain is still just the mountain

The power in that moment was in the story I choose to construct about my outcome—even to move beyond the need to frame my experience as either lucky or unlucky. It just WAS. I was reminded of the famous parable about the beginner for whom the mountain was just a mountain (fusion), the trainee for whom the mountain was not the mountain (separation), and the master for whom the mountain was just the mountain again, albeit with a higher level of consciousness (enlightenment). I came to realize the ways in which the labels we give to our experiences do not change the essential nature of the mountain, but are designed more to comfort our individual and collective egos.

Given that they were able to save half of my thyroid and the incidence of recurrence is rare, this brush with cancer is likely not to have any implications going forward. However, the narrative suggests differently in that I have accelerated a process that was already underway to examine the trajectories for my work and my life. It has been a time of getting down to the “roots” of who I am and what I feel called to do with my one life.

Look for changes to come soon

I am back to work full-time now and committed to re-engaging with you via this blog. Look for some changes to appear in the weeks ahead to help us all deepen our abilities to coach others and bring their stories to life. The world is waiting…

David

photo credit: stopjessica

In reading a speech by Bill Moyers the other day, I was reminded of a old story from the Native American tradition.

There was a tribal elder who was telling his grandson about the battle the old man was waging inside himself. He said, “It is between two wolves, my son. One is an evil wolf: Anger, envy, sorrow, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego. The other is the good wolf: Joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.” The boy thought this over for a minute, and then asked his grandfather: “Which wolf wins?” The old Cherokee replied simply: “The one I feed.”

While there is certainly something to be said for learning how to tell stories for the purpose of inspiring and leading others, most of our behavior each day is driven by the stories we tell ourselves in the moment. These narrative patterns are built up over time and reinforced with the stories we verbalize to others, but they are open to change over time. This is a large part of what narrative coaching is about.

The first task is to notice which story seems present in the moment. In this pause, and the space that opens up, new stories become possible. For example, I can ask myself in a difficult moment whether I am being guided by fear or by love. I can ask myself whether a given reaction brings me closer to or farther away from being more enlightened. In doing so, I often notice where I am attached to a story that does not serve me (or others).

Which wolf are you feeding today?

I had the pleasure of working with Shawn Callahan of Anecdote to produce an exciting new white paper, “Three Journeys—A Narrative Approach to Successful Organizational Change” that links coaching, stories, and organizational change. The approach is based on the story of Lewis & Clark who forged a trail that would lead to the formation of what we now know as the United States. I included a case study involving a large client project to illustrate the approach in action in supporting this client to build a coaching culture and internal coaching capabilities.

We also use lessons learned from expedition itself, based on Stephen Ambrose’s book Undaunted Courage, to offer important lessons for today’s change leaders. For example, while on the first of the three journeys, leaders should be aware of the fact that:

1. The story for change must be told, at least initially, in the language of those most affected by it, if leaders want their engagement in the change.
2. Preparation in complex environments requires testing assumptions and balancing the needs for adaptation and execution.
3. It is dangerous to take an old paradigm and old ways of living into a new land.

Have a look at the white paper for yourself and let me know what you think.

On a recent flight back to the U.S. from Sydney, I took the occasion to watch a documentary on “The Apology”. On February 13, 2008, the prime minister (Kevin Rudd) and other leaders from the Australian government offered a written and oral apology to the indigenous populations of that land. While the issues involved are rife with complexities, I was moved by the simple, public statement of “We’re Sorry.” It seemed like an important step for that country in moving forward as a true multicultural society. It reminded me how far we have to go here in the U.S. Perhaps a victory by Obama in the upcoming elections will signal a change here.

As I reflected on the movie, I thought about the nature and power of stories to affect change. Upon returning home, I happened to glance at an alter of sacred objects in my office—upon which sat a jar of lavender oil from France. It was a gift from a colleague who attended a workshop on narrative coaching I did for an international coaching conference in Melbourne last year. Feeling a bit fatigued in the midst of a long work trip in Australia, she offered me this precious gift as a source of renewal. I was moved by the gesture, this gift of comfort and grace.

Sometimes, we are called to begin a new Story of great significance. Mostly, however, we are asked to mindfully contribute in small ways to the smaller stories we encounter in each moment. In giving me the small bottle of lavender I gained solace that another person cared enough to part with this special gift and from the deeply relaxing fragrance of the lavender itself. So much of narrative coaching is about showing up fully to another person and opening up the possibilities of a new story.

Take a chance today—plant a seed for a new Story through an act of forgiveness, compassion, or insight.

While in the area, I got a tour of the beautiful “whop whops” (rainforest/mountain range) by Leslie Hamilton, Chair of the marvelous 2007 ICFA Conference in Melbourne. On the same trip I spent an evening speaking on the same topic for the inaugural meeting of the ICFA sub-chapter in the delightful city of Hobart, Tasmania and for Coach Week in Perth. I always enjoy introducing people to a new approach to coaching that is driven by a mindful and compassionate attention to the narrative material from clients’ stories. I finished off this part of the trip with a two-day workshop on narrative coaching with 16 people. What I love about working Down Under is the genuine openness to learning. More workshops are being scheduled as I wrote this.

Leave me a note on the blog if you’d like to talk about hosting a workshop in your area.