photo credit: KidMoxie

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.

photo credit: richardmasoner
Albert Einstein once noted that, “problems cannot be solved by the same level of thinking that created them.” The same is true in working with the stories people tell us in coaching conversations. People narrate their experience based on their cognitive patterns, personal dispositions, contextual demands and the vocabulary of their social discourse. As a result, they tend to tell their stories along similar lines over time.

One of the lessons we can we take from recent research in the neurosciences is that rapport in coaching is built through the resonance between two people, a matching in which they connect using the same sides of their brain. In my work, I make the corollary point that we then foster change by connecting with the client across the channels once rapport is established, e.g. left brain modality to right brain modality. For example, I might invite a shift from their abstract description of the situation by asking them what they are experiencing in the moment.

When you feel stuck in a coaching conversation, it usually means that the client is trying to solve the “problem” at a level that is familiar to them—but is often the very construction/habit that created the issue in the first place. If this happens for you, I would suggest one of two options to help your client get unstuck: (1) rise up a level to help them get a broader perspective and see what they cannot see at their current level of narration or (2) drop down a level to help them get more of the details and enrich and embody their understanding.

Start within the frame of your clients’ stories to expand the storytelling space between you—and then invite them to move to a different level if it would free them up to gain a new perspective on themselves and/or their situation.

My wife recently returned from a fascinating workshop with Brad Keeney, psychologist and expert on traditional healing. Take a look at this clip from a Canadian documentary as it shows Brad’s work with what he calls “shaking medicine”. There seems to me to be a growing confluence of what we are learning from the neurosciences and what many have known for centuries about the true nature of healing. If this is so, what does this mean for coaching?

Are there ways in which coaching, when its based in assumptions about linearity, causality, and rationality, misses out on some of the processes by which people actually develop? In my work with people’s stories in coaching and in teaching coaching skills, I increasingly see the ways in which development is nonlinear, noncausal, and nonrational. As I have deepened my explicit and tacit knowledge of the way stories play out in coaching, I find myself being more compassionate and courageous in working with a person’s narrative material.

In doing so, I marvel at the mystery of human nature and growth based in millennia of genetic programming and embeddedness in natural systems. As a result, I wonder sometimes if those of us (at least in the West) over-emphasize the cognitive and linguistic domains in working with our clients. It is as if we carry a belief that higher order brain functions will be able to triumph over ancient patterns if only we work hard enough. While we certainly have sufficient anecdotal experience of this in our own lives, I wonder sometimes what we are missing as coaches by not working with these ancient patterns—instead of against them. Our stories are not just in our head.

It is as if coaches become split between the face we wear in the daytime to fit into an evidence-based, market-driven world and the face we wear in nighttime to engage with other worlds we believe in our heart may actually be closer to the truth of what works. As I’ve written about in recent articles, it is the path of the craftsperson, the artisan who diligently develops the science and skills of the practice while all the while dancing with his/her muse and the mysteries of the art.

Where are you stretching yourself today in terms of how you think about and practice your craft?

photo credit: indigoprime
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?

photo credit: Shereen M
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?

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?

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.

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.

photo credit: Wolfgang Staudt
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?

As the United States approaches the election of a new President later this year, it is clear that there are no easy solutions to our ill-conceived and ill-fated intervention in Iraq. I use this picture in my narrative coaching workshops to explore with people the power of symbols, the cognitive and narrative patterns that shape our reactions, and the role of power in being able to tell our stories.

I learned a key lesson about power in the early days of my training business. I was doing a two-day program on leadership and coaching for 100 new managers in a federal social services program. 98 of the participants were women, the majority of them were non-Caucasian, and many of them had started out as low-income parents in the program. While I intellectually recognized the disparities as a upper-middle class Caucasian male, I didn’t fully grasp what that meant until part way through the first day when I realized that the program was not working well. I stopped the session and explored with the group where they were experiencing the disconnection.

In the end, I came to realize that many of the leadership theories, models and admonitions about leadership were written by and for people like me—and implicitly assumed a sufficient privilege and access to power. As a result, I dropped the rest of the design for the workshop and asked these women to talk about who had power in their communities, what enabled them to have this power, and how they used their power. We used these stories to develop some new models about what effective leadership and coaching would look like in their programs.

Much of the work in narrative coaching is to help people discern and transform the often unexamined boundaries of their narration. I work with coaches to get clear on the ethics and implications of narrative work. I am reminded of the work in this area by my colleague Paul Costello. I close here with a quote from Salman Rushdie as a reminder of the role of power in being able to tell one’s story.

Those who do not have power over the story that dominates their lives, the power to retell it, to rethink it, deconstruct it, joke about it, and change it as times change, truly are powerless, because they cannot think new thoughts.

I am curious about the gaps between our intentions and our actions that are present at times in our lives. It is as if we are trying to wear high heels to cross the Alps. I recall a saying from Don Americo Yabar, a shamanic teacher with whom I studied in Peru in 2004, “Intent is. Intention tries. Intent is a pure, light energy having a distilled, laser-like quality.” I was also reminded of blogger Steve Pavlina’s distinction between “being” and “doing”. He wrote, “When your identity is out of sync with your goal, action is very difficult — it is doing. When your identify comes into sync with your goal, action is inspired and effortless — it is being.”

If we want people to adopt new behaviors and attain new results through coaching, we must help them build an identity from which to do so. It is about helping them to align the stories they tell about themselves (intent) with the stories they live with their lives (intention). When there is alignment, clients are more powerful and more successful. When there is alignment, goals are more likely to be fulfilled because the results are a natural byproduct of a new way of being rather than remaining dependent on continuous efforts at doing.

For example, a client who ran a large intergovernmental project was frustrated in her inability to move her leadership team in some new directions. Through our work, she uncovered both autobiographical stories and cognitive narrative patterns that reinforced a sense of herself as one who was destined to battle difficult odds to make things happen. It would be slow going if we were to attempt to make changes in her leadership approach from this starting point. Instead, our work revolved around helping her to imagine herself as one who could be at the center as opposed to the margins and as one who was worthy of ease and grace. Once she was made this shift, she moved rather quickly to change the structure of her leadership team and the project in order to optimize her leadership preferences and achieve better results.

Clients find greater power when they come from a place of grounded and authentic intent rather than crafting intentions in their mind about how things should or could be. So, if you are feeling stuck in some aspect of your work or life, look for the places where this a disconnect, a lack of alignment, between the stories you tell yourself and the results you want. It is in this fertile ground that the seeds of one’s true intent are born.