photo credit: Artotem

One of the aspects of narrative work that has most fascinated me over the years has been what do with all of the shadow stories that don’t quite fit into the larger and more convenient stories about our past or present. So much of the work in narrative coaching is about helping clients to befriend, mature and embody parts of themselves that have been held back for any number of reasons.

Little change is possible without the reincorporation or adaption of our stories to provide a stronger foundation for the changes we want to make in our life. For a recent client, it was about recognising that she had been pretending to be a flamingo—making others in her swamp at work quite uneasy in the process — and needed to make more space for her nature as an ‘eagle’. [I sense a career change is in the works for her . . .]

At a time when our economies are in great flux and we participate in ever-increasing networks, we need to find ways to express more and more of ourselves — even those parts of ourselves which we may have previously not used or not used well.

Given that this is not often an easy task, it helps to have others who can guide us in doing so. In this context, we can see the value of the other connotation of the word ‘shadow’ as skillfully observing someone. In coaching, this relates to our ability to provide real-time, in-the-moment feedback and inquiry for our clients.

New Workshop!

I am excited to announce that I will be co-facilitating an extraordinary three-day workshop with my dear friend and colleague Donna Karlin called “Stories, Shadows & Self-Discovery” on April 12th-14th in Toronto.

For the first time ever, the founder of narrative coaching and the founder of shadow coaching are offering a workshop together! It will be a highly experiential session, designed to transform how coaching practitioners view and deliver their work. For more information and to register, visit the special page on Donna’s website or here.

Please share the news with others you know in the region. Thanks.

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?

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.