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Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. I came across these words from the late Arthur C. Clarke, renowned science fiction writer, the other day and reflected on their meaning for coaching. They seemed particularly interesting given his choice to write about the future from Sri Lanka, a context where ancient battles for power are playing out in civil war. One of sources of power in using a narrative approach to coaching is that it helps individuals and groups reckon with the historical and cultural forces that shape their stories while at the same time envisioning new ones that can be told.

As I wrote about in a recent journal article, I believe a narrative approach is useful in developing ourselves as artisans who blend science and practice to meet our clients’ needs through the questions we form, the evidence we choose, and the reflexive evaluation of our performance. As more coaches develop mastery of the technologies of coaching, we may indeed move closer to the realms of magic. As I’ve also written, the language of “craftspeople” and “guilds” seems useful here. This echoes a comment from psychologist/anthropologist Brad Keeney (1990) who urged his fellow practitioners to free themselves from the tight embrace of medicalism and scientism in order to connect to the creative wellsprings of the arts.

One of the questions I will pose in moderating an upcoming panel on research at the 2008 ICF Conference is, “What can we learn at the intersection of art and science that provides better evidence to guide our practice?”

Where have you found the “magic” in working with your clients?

 

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It has been awhile since I posted. I’ve been quite engaged on two other fronts: One is an intense and wonderful coaching project in Australia.

The other arose just before I left when I followed a gut feeling (reinforced in my dreams) that something was not quite right in my body. I discovered through an ultrasound that I have a large nodule on my thyroid. The biopsies were inconclusive and so I will have surgery sooner rather than later to take part of it out – and find out for sure.

They say the chance it is cancerous is about 5%. However, I soon discovered that while the statistical difference between the 0% chance I had before and the 5% I have now is not all that significant, the emotional difference was huge. I’ve since moved to a better space where I’ve come to appreciate this wake-up call.

I found that in this time of waiting—and the not knowing that comes with it—it was hard to know what story tell about my situation. I was not well but I was not sick. In some people I evoked a story of great concern while others resorted to hurried optimism. I came to realize in some important new ways both the power of the choices we make about how we narrate our lived experience and the power of the stories that are told about us.

I am choosing to be grateful for what IS — an opportunity to recalibrate some elements in my life. Oddly, this re-balancing process mirrors a dilemma that surfaced in my Hogan assessment where I scored very high on ambition and fairly low on power. No wonder my thyroid is out of balance!

The fact that the problem is there has important symbolic, energetic and practical implications in terms of how I express myself and live my life. What a gift! Regardless of the biopsy outcome, I am using this time to be more courageous and clear about the story I tell through my life and work.

What story is your body telling you? What story are you telling through your body?

 

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I’m often asked, “This is great stuff…but how will it help me grow my business?” While there is not a straight line between A and B as some might wish, I observe that people who develop a narrative approach to their practice seem to become more compelling to clients. What narrative coaching brings, in part, is a way of being with clients that is quite distinctive. As such, I see this approach helping your business in at least three ways:

  1. Increased signal to noise ratio: Working at the narrative level gives clients the opportunity to step outside the relentless pace of modern work life in order to experience time and space in new ways. Clients appreciate the chance to both slow down and get to the heart of the matter more quickly. Narratively-trained coaches bring a certain calm and presence to their work that many clients find invaluable.
  2. Increased transfer from sessions: As my colleague Amiel Handelsman attests, the true value of coaching is in what clients do after they leave their conversation with us. Clients pay us because they are able to see, think, feel and act differently as a result of coaching. A narrative approach is powerful here because the language and learning are based in the clients’ own stories. Rather than having to take on the coach’s frame, clients have ready-made anchors for their ongoing learning and new behaviors. I have found this grounded approach to be quite appealing to clients.
  3. Increased connection to a bigger Story: I increasingly see a hunger in my clients to connect their life and their work to something bigger than themselves. They want connections to people who know their stories—and therefore share a common referent point. It shows up in my organizational clients who want better alignment between individual coaching goals and organizational objectives. It shows up in my private clients who want to feel like their work matters. Being able to help make these connections through their stories is great for business.

What would you like to know about stories and your business? Post a question in the Comments box and I will gladly share my thoughts.

I close with a great quote I was reminded of again the other day in pondering the proverbial 37 days. It speaks well to the value of a narrative approach to coaching in helping clients see clearly the gaps between their vows and their life.
The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another; and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it. James Barrie

 

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I learned this morning that Michael White has passed away. Known to many of us in the story community as a co-founder of narrative therapy, he was a pioneer who paved the way for many of us who do this work. He brought a deep critical and social consciousness to our understanding of stories; he liberated both stories and storytelling so practitioners could work in creative and powerful ways with clients. His death seems particularly poignant for me right now as I launch my new narrative coaching programs and think more deeply about where and how I most want to invest my life energy. Perhaps his death will inspire me to play a bigger game.

Michael’s work was an important bridge for me in connecting three domains of my narrative study and practice that had long been separate: Jungian psychology/spirituality, cognitive development and learning, and social justice. On a personal level, I felt inspired by his work to be more courageous and confident in bringing together these domains in my narrative coaching work. I experienced him as a deep thinker, a complicated writer, a consummate practitioner, and a gifted teacher. He has left a legacy that will live on in the thousands of professionals who have been shaped by his work and the many contributions of narrative therapy to our language, perspectives and practices. Thank you, Michael.

“The evolution of the lives and relationships of persons is akin to the process of reauthoring, the process of persons entering into stories with their experience and their imagination, of taking these stories over and making them their own.” (1992)

 

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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?

 

We are launching our new website and new workshops! I’ve had the opportunity to speak on my work to over 1,000 poeple in the last couple of years. Now it is time to finally offer my work to my fellow coaches and other professionals (Human Resources/Capital, Organizational Development, Leadership Development, etc.).

If you’d like to know more about David and his work, sign up on our website for an upcoming telecall. It will be your chance to ask questions about narrative coaching and about the workshops.

The first two are scheduled for Tuesday, April 1st at 2:00pm PDT (California) and Tuesday May 6th at 4:00om PDT.

While you are there, check out the flyer for our first workshop in Perth and more information about our new series leading to certification next year. Drop us a comment on one of our early blog posts to let me know what you think.

We are also seeking firms to work with us in hosting our workshops. Use the contact form to let us know of your interest or point us to someone who would be a good candidate. Thanks.

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Today’s story is about my mother. Some years ago she was walking in the woods with her brother and sister who had come to visit. Knowing that my mother had a knack for finding coins—and being jazzed when she did—the two of them quietly walked ahead of her and began randomly and discretely dropping coins on the trail. “I found a quarter” came the first holler. “Here’s a dime!” came the next. After a couple more times, my mother grew suspicious and her siblings could barely contain their giggles. Finally, they fessed up.

This could be a story about gullibility, but it is really about joy. They had found something that delighted my mom. They used the occasion to recount family stories about other legendary pranks and sources of delight they’d known as children. Other stories, past and present, sprang from them. What delights your clients?

Moral of the story: Don’t worry about where your clients start in narrating their experience. Follow their trail of coins to the sacred spot where you can talk about what matters to them and would bring them joy.

 
 
 

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As we launch our new narrative coaching workshop series in Perth, Australia on May 26th/27th, I was curious to know what was on your mind about clients and their stories these days. What do you wish you knew about narrative/coaching that would help you be more present and powerful with your clients?

The Foundations Workshop, “The Power of Coaching at the Narrative Level,” provides the essentials of how stories work, the links between stories and identity/behavior, and how to work with the narrative material in sessions to accelerate the client’s awareness, development and movement. Three more foundational workshops are scheduled for Australia in 2008 and we anticipate being able to offer one in New Zealand and one in Canada this year. If all goes well, we will offer a five-day advanced program in late 2008 and start our one-year certification/mastermind program in early 2009.

I offer this space on our site for you to tell us what you’d most like to know or be able to do as a result of learning about narrative coaching. What would you most want from our workshop if you came? Even if we can’t address it in the workshop, I would be happy to dialog with you about your interest and point you in directions where you can find the resources you seek.

Click on the “Share Your Comment” link at the bottom of this post and let us know what you think.

 

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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?

 
 
March 12th, 2008

It’s a contest!
As we launch this new site, we’d love to get your feedback. Therefore, we are running a CONTEST between now and March 31st. One person’s comments will be chosen at random and that person will receive an autographed copy of the new book I edited with Diane Brennan and Kim Gørtz, “The Philosophy and Practice of Coaching” (www.practiceofcoaching.com).

SEND US YOUR COMMENTS by replying to this post. We are particularly interested in two questions (though we will welcome them all):

  1. What are your first impressions of the site (feel, tone, message, impact, etc.)? What would make it better in terms of its design (usability, visual appeal, readability, navigation)?
  2. What else would you like to know about narrative coaching and/or about our work?

When the contest is completed, I will share the top comments—and the changes we made as a result—as well as announce the winner.
Let me close with a story about the importance of aligning our actions with our intentions. It is also a great example of the power of the shadow to crop up in unexpected places. It seemed fitting for this query about the alignment of our goals for this site with how it is experienced by you.

Ghost Ranch trail
The young couple, committed to justice work and a simple lifestyle, were walking up the dusty trail to Chimney Rock. Her thoughts included an uncertainty on what shadow work meant for her in her life as a mother, spouse and activist; his thoughts included a disdain for people’s preoccupation with status and symbols. Part way up the trail their thoughts intersected in an unintended fashion.

He was wearing a pair of sneakers that had been given to him. Even though they bore a famous brand name, he had begrudgingly kept them because they were a gift. As she walked along behind him on the trail, she looked down to see that he was stamping the word “Reebok” in the dust with every step he took. The irony was not lost on her—he had become a walking advertisement for a value he did not consciously hold. Like a Zen student who suddenly awakens to the meaning of a koan, she knew at that moment what the shadow was all about.

 

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High thunderhead clouds were blowing in from the north as they often do in the New Mexico afternoon. As I set out for a hike, I could see lightning and rain in the distance, but hoped it would pass over before I got into the high country. Making my way up the second canyon I came across a father and two young sons who were white as ghosts and laying in a small arroyo. As we began to talk, it began to rain; we huddled under a piñon tree. It turned out they had been on top of the mesa when the storm hit. One bolt of lightning had struck so close to them that the force of the wind had knocked down the youngest boy. Needless to say, they got down off the mesa in a hurry. Now they were under a tree, petrified to move any further until the lightning and thunder stopped.

The father asked me to reassure his sons that they were safe now. Drawing on my experience in the wilderness and speaking in my most authoritative and calming voice, I told them it was so. They listened with rapt attention, but it still took twenty minutes before they truly believed it was OK to head back to their car. The storm passed and we each headed our separate ways. When I got back from the top of the mesa, I came across the father and sons who had since reconnected with the mother. The boys came running up to me, excited to ask about my hike. They recounted the story to their mother again about what they had been through and how I had helped get them down the mountain.

As I puzzled at their level of admiration for my simple Good Samaritan gesture, the father told me the rest of the story. When I had come across them, the father had been trying to reassure his sons, but he had been unsuccessful. Not feeling safe yet, the boys had asked their dad if they could pray for God to save them. They weren’t much of a religious family, but he told them it certainly couldn’t hurt. So they had prayed out loud to God for a guardian angel to come and rescue them.

Serendipitously, I had come around the corner about thirty seconds after they had said “amen”. To me, I was just out on a walk. To his boys, I was an angel sent directly from God in answer to their pleas for help.

As Seth Godin pointed out, every one of your interactions can become an anecdote that lives on for years. We often look for the perfect story or the perfect opportunity, yet many of our most significant moments in coaching come when we least expect them. Even if I had not met up with the family again, their story about the angel on the mesa would have lived on in them for years to come.

What anecdotes are you cultivating today as you interact with your clients, your peers, your family or even that homeless man you passed on the street?