Thanks to Wise Goose ‘almost-graduate’ Helen Tyrrell, for this post as she stands on the edge of a threshold about to step out as a qualified coach. We look forward to hearing the next instalment! If you’d like to find out more about Helen she is listed in our ‘Find a Coach’ coach directory https://wisegoose.co.uk/listings/helen-tyrrell/
So here I am, on the edge of qualifying as a coach! Assuming nothing goes wrong, I will soon be the proud owner of an Advanced Diploma in Coaching and Mentoring.
Great! I’ll be fully qualified! And…then what?
It’s been a fascinating journey, and I’ve had the best clients in 2020. But the last few of my clients are finishing shortly and I don’t have any more lined up. That is where the uncertainty begins to creep in. How can I make a living doing this thing which I love?
I spent many of my younger years being driven, especially when I wanted to be an artist, believing I could make things happen with passion and determination, only to discover that what life had in store for me was far more interesting and rich than I had dreamt, but that I had first to let my dreams go as part of the deal. Now I am wary of striving. Instead I attempt to see what wants to come and to accept and celebrate that. And yet, as my supervisor pointed out, if you don’t let people know you are there, how can they come to you? Tricky.
So, how do I get clients? The gremlins of self-doubt gnaw and undermine and a significant (and dangerously powerful) chunk of my thoughts fully expects this not to work. Hello amygdala!!
I set myself a goal at the start of 2020: I wanted the year’s theme to be ‘The Year I’ with a play on the letter ‘I’ and the number ‘1’ to indicate a fresh start. The fuller title was to be ‘The Year I [Believed in Myself] . I wanted to see where I could get to with that simple, confident attitude. If I were to keep that up now, I wonder what would happen?
It is interesting and significant that I developed a workshop all about creativity earlier last year, which has now run twice. Aptly, I find myself at precisely the sort of creative edge that this workshop is designed to work with: it is a place of not-knowing, pregnant with possibility, delicate, precarious, hopeful. With my creative hat on, my advice to myself is to stay light, and interested in everything that happens, ‘good’ and ‘bad’ as a source of information; to encourage myself to try things out and to forgive ‘mistakes’; to make time for creative play as well as for work; to use alternative ways of knowing (e.g. art, poetry, embodied knowing) and to suspend my usually quick judgment of results: new things, being new, are not easily recognised, and being raw rather than slick, are easy to miss and misjudge. Most of all my advice to myself is to be receptive, collaborative and to say yes.
So, when my supervisor, demonstrating what a great coach she is, picked up on my enthusiasm for writing and creativity, suggested that I generate some creative content about this edgy time, I got interested. Interested in my own experience; interested in a moment of my life that, in fact, merits attention and scrutiny over head-in-sand blocking of unnamed, unacknowledged hopes and fears.
And so a new creative content is born – its parents a conversation and an edgy time. Let’s see what happens next……
I can’t believe we are heading towards the Autumn equinox and the marking of the transition between seasons. There’s definitely that back to school/ work feeling in the air. This week I’ll be driving my son back to Brighton for the start of his final year at the University of Sussex.
This year it’s a transition that I have mixed feelings about, with news of a virus storm brewing on university campuses and knowing he will be returning to face more uncertainty, disruption and social distancing. Young adults generally are more likely to suffer the long-term consequences of economic downturn, more likely to have lost their jobs or been furloughed, more likely to live in cramped shared housing; more likely to suffer Covid related mental health issues. There’s been a lot of talk about impacts of the pandemic on children, the elderly and businesses but impacts on young people and how to support them seems to be largely ignored and this troubles me.
Given my concerns, a couple of days ago when I heard Matt Hancock laying the blame on young people for the Covid spike, I felt angry. I wanted to blame him.
My rant began something like this: “How dare you shift the blame. It’s your fault they took advantage of ‘eat out to help out’ and heeded the prime minister, who said it was a ‘patriotic duty’ to go to the pub. Your mixed messages made this mess, and so Mr Hancock, YOU are to blame for your governments chaotic, incompetent response to Covid19.”
My reaction got me thinking. In this tirade, the fact that quite a few young adults have been casual about social distancing, and the question of how best to do something about the risks is simply not part of my picture. I’m off, on my high horse, lashing out at full speed, sucked into the ‘Blame Game’. What just happened?
Blame it turns out, is contagious, it spreads like a virus. A 2010 study from USC into ‘blame contagion’ showed that pointing fingers at others is not only infectious, it is amplified when trust is low and seems to be eliminated when people feel valued and appreciated. In other words, being blamed for things that are not our fault and not receiving acknowledgement and the credit that we deserve are entangled.
How the credit/ blame game is played is a key ingredient of organisational cultures, for better or for worse. I often meet clients who work in organisations with rampant cultures of blame. These are places where dishing out blame, unfair attacks or credit grabbing hijack energy and distract from tackling problems. Teams and organizations with a culture of blame have an uphill struggle when it comes to encouraging learning, creativity, innovation and productive risk-taking. Blame is an excellent defence mechanism, by avoiding looking at our own flaws and failings, blame protects our self-image. However, research shows that people who blame others for their mistakes lose status, learn less, and have poorer performance compared to those who own up to their mistakes. The pattern is so destructive, whether you are a coach or a leader, blame is something to be alert to, because in the end playing the blame game never works.
The blame game is lazy. It’s easier to blame someone else than to recognise and accept responsibility for the part you play in a messy situation. Becoming blame-savvy requires effort, changing behaviour so you don’t repeat mistakes involves work. Creating psychological safety is one of the most important things a coach or leader can do to stop the blame game but this takes awareness, time and commitment. Here are a few potential places to start:
Avoid collusion. By setting the right example and not joining in with the game, you can help grow awareness and model collaborative problem-solving rather than defensiveness and finger-pointing.
Own up to your mistakes. When you make a mistake, it is tempting to shore up the illusion of our own self-worth and blame someone else. Instead, say sorry when you are wrong, you are not omnipotent, face up to the reality that you are not always right. When you don’t pass the buck, you gain respect and help to prevent a culture of blame.
Focus on learning and creating a ‘growth’ mindset. This is where learning from — rather than avoiding mistakes — is the priority. This helps ensure that people feel free to ‘own up’, discuss and learn from their errors.
Pause. Take a breath. Step back. If you’re facing a “blame-thrower” or “credit-grabber” a good first response is to pause. We all tend to cast blame; it is often a subconscious process; the blame game might not be personal. What is behind the game? What might be triggering your reaction? This is where talking to someone outside of work, a coach or trusted colleague will help you gain perspective and distance make strategic decisions about your response.
When you do blame, do it constructively. Accountability is important and there are definitely times when people’s mistakes need to be raised in public. In these cases, make sure to emphasise that the goal is to learn from mistakes, not to publicly humiliate those who make them. As a manager, peer or coach, be careful not to use feedback as a sneaky way of dishing out blame.
Author of The Blame Game Ben Dattner summarises it like this: “We all want to be recognised for our effort and accomplishments, and we resist being blamed when things don’t go right. This leads to habitual patterns of credit and blame at work. […] The most successful leaders are able to see their role in the blame game, admit mistakes and focus on fixing rather than blaming.”
Many of us struggle both with the giving and receiving of feedback, so a big ‘thank you’ to Josie Sutcliffe for this post. Josie is one of our trainers for the online Foundation Course (starting at the end of September) and will be leading the session on effective feedback skills.
We can learn to both give and receive feedback in ways that are enabling, that do not wound but instead energise. Is now the time for you to begin your exploration into the freedoms feedback brings?
When someone says to you, “I want to give you some feedback”, what do you think – I mean your first uncensored thought…? What do you feel, what do you do?
When someone says to you, “I want to give you a gift”, what do you think – I mean your first uncensored thought…? What do you feel, what do you do?
I’m willing to bet that the responses would be very different!
I studied Photography and Graphic Design at Art School and then later, Theatre Studies. In both these areas of the Arts, feedback was considered a gift and vital for the development of your practice as an artist. How could you progress without enabling, encouraging and effective feedback? How could you learn that you had made mistakes that might (easily) be rectified? It seemed implausible as a student to continue into a career without opening yourself up to sometimes challenging feedback or criticism.
Of course, we soon learn that there are more than mere challenging criticisms that inhabit our worlds of work and life. ‘Killer feedback’ can be hurtful, wounding, humiliating, shaming and contribute little to someone’s learning, although it seems unfortunately it is still alive and well and commonly used in business/professional situations.
Of all the skills that coaches can possess, giving and receiving feedback is perhaps the most sophisticated and difficult. Many of my clients are already fearful of receiving feedback because historically it has caused them pain. And yet sometimes it may be important to challenge a client’s strongly held beliefs.
Do you see feedback as a potential threat to your sense of yourselves as valuable human beings?
We can learn to both give and receive feedback in ways that are enabling, that do not wound but instead energise the Wise Goose Foundations will help you to begin your exploration into the freedoms feedback brings.
At the third of the rhythmic set of cries I stop, push the garden fork into the soil and turn. Of course, I know it’s a rook, but somehow there’s a depth in this particular call that makes the familiar strange, she has my attention. The tone and the rhythm have drawn me out of myself, out of the business of preparing ground for spring planting.
I scan the still-bare trees at the edge the allotments looking for the owner of this loud but surprisingly warm, almost mellow voice. Behind the trees the sky is empty, a cloudless, bottomless blue. I stand, squinting into the brightness, quiet, waiting. One patient breath; another, two more, long and slow. Then a rolling shuffle along a high branch catches my eye; there, I see you now. Out of the seamless ground of sky and woods where ‘rook’ is simply part of everything, a figure is pulled out by my curious senses and insistent urge to know and name. Then, almost as if she knows she’s been spotted, she takes flight, air whistling whhsh-whhsh-whhsh through beating black wings, heading towards the rookery above the nearby cemetery.
Left behind, I close my eyes for a moment, listening to the presences of this place. Over there high in the cherry, intense, confident warbling of a robin; somewhere to my left , darting between the cover of the beech hedge and bramble brash, a whirr of wren’s wings; very close to my ear the drone of a bumble bee. From the direction of the apple trees, tits call back and forth ‘tsee-hu, tsee-hu, tsee-hu’ and there’s a gentle mystery song too; long, low and burbling like a softly blown referees whistle. It’s late March and the world is filled with twitters and caws and coos, I’m hearing the voice of ‘ten thousand things’ as they briefly emerge into manifest existence then fall away again into nameless, formless, generative emptiness. For a few moments eyes still closed, enjoying the warmth of late March sunshine, I know I am also and always woven through this place, whether conscious of this truth or, as is more often the case, not.
Back at home I’m at my desk, during the first couple of weeks in a strange pandemic world of social distancing, hand washing and self-isolation, lethargy stalks me. After an initial burst of activity, most of my work has come to a standstill, groups postponed with no sense of when I can re-schedule, no indication of when or how this lockdown will be lifted. My car stands idle in the drive, coated with tree pollen and spiderwebs. Much is restricted: ‘non-essential journeys’, more than one walk a day, meeting friends for coffee, a meal out. Daily, I cross the playground on my way to and from the allotment, slides, swings and climbing frames cordoned off like a crime scene, plastic incident tape fluttering red and white in the breeze. In this alien new world, where we stand patiently two meters from neighbours in straggling queues and streets fall silent after 2pm I have felt bestilled. Fragments from a poem memorised in childhood surface and run as if on a loop through my mind:, “Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion, As idle as a painted ship, Upon a painted ocean.’
Expectations of how the world works have been disrupted, my plans, and the plans of so many others, abandoned, or placed on hold. This is disruption on a grand scale, my sense of myself as a productive person doing meaningful work has been upended. Though unhappily passive, I resist the frantic activity I see ‘out there’, a flurry of lockdown blogs with seemingly endless advice on how to cope, survive or leverage ‘opportunities’, the competitive churning of performance and productivity goals, or heartless pontification about the ‘purpose’ or ‘meaning’ of this pandemic. My reaction to all this ‘noise’ has been a bristling, guilty anger. I want none of it. What is happening is unbearable, people are dying, isolated and alone, so much of everyday life lost. I wonder, could it be, in part at least, denial, a grasping for an illusion of control or a filling of the void created by self-isolation through frenzied activity. Nevertheless, I measure ‘their’ busyness against my loafing, finding myself wanting. I pause and potter, unsure of how to make good decisions about how far to postpone course dates, what options to offer students who need to complete their programme, how to include their voices as well as listen to my own. Maybe I should reschedule to June, maybe September, or maybe neither, there are so many unknowns.
So, I do what I must: respond to emails, coach online, buy zoom pro, offer virtual seminars, postpone meetings and retreat to the allotment. The only place where I feel fully ‘myself’ is on the allotment. Blessed with sunshine, it’s there I’ve been spending most of my days; days punctuated by a tally of new coronavirus cases and deaths. Though the human world is in lock-down, time does not stop. Spring sends out its own messages. Each day the buds on the cherry tree swell a little more, I watch for flowers knowing that not long after apple blossom will follow, each tree knowing its time. Every morning in the grey light before dawn, birds fill the air with song, in the evening, they fill it again. Days lengthen. Most days as the sun sets, you’ll find me still on the allotment sitting in the evening sunshine drinking tea.
Towards the end of the third week of lock down I start to wonder: Is this stillness is a form of action? I watch spring unfurl, quietly turning over questions about the foundations, givens and patterns of everyday life. Perhaps something of the world can be revealed in a time like this when we have been forced to abandon so many old habits to find new ones.
Day after day, day after day my new ritual is to spend time on the allotment, it’s a small ordinary, beautiful place, not a mountain, or a forest, definitely not wilderness, though there are plenty of wild beings there. I immerse myself in its particular ecology and it teaches me about what it means to be human in a world that extends beyond human concerns. It’s a world where fellow citizens include oil beetles, orange-tip butterflies and carder bees, deer, badgers, mice and squirrels, celandine, dandelions and a robin who follows me picking up an easy supper as I clear the beds of couch grass, buttercups and bindweed. I see more clearly than usual how wider processes, these non-human neighbours keep me connected and sane, the anxiety, anger or powerlessness sparked by this virus coming to rest within something wider. This isn’t to ignore human suffering and death, who I am, who we are can’t be disentangled from each other. But neither can who we are be disentangled from how we relate to these many beings. Four weeks into lockdown and I begin to find a balance, a place that is open to the awfulness of what’s unfolding and can be sustained by everyday simple joys of life, a sunny day, hands in earth, sowing seeds.
I think again of the rook, cronking in the woods that back onto the allotments, I’m trying to imagine the unimaginable multitude of processes beyond human worlds that sustain me, sustain us all, making us the beings we are. We humans are a social species, being forced to keep physical and social distance from each other. It feels wrong. Along with many others I feel that loss of human connection deeply, but at the same time I wonder how our habitual crowding together might crowd out all the other voices. If we let voices from our wider kin seep into our everyday lives how might they help us understand our fragility, limits, strengths and place in the world differently? I wonder, if we paused to listen, how they’d shape who we may become?
“Are you going to move the new training courses online?”
This is a question I’ve been asked frequently over the past few weeks. We could have migrated our programme online as many training providers have done but decided to pause. Just because an online solution looks within reach, it’s not always the best response. So, we listened to comments and feedback from past and present students and trainers, we considered options and we asked ourselves questions about the quality benchmarks we wanted to set ourselves such as:
How can we meet students expectations that the level of training, depth of experience and high level of skills attained are comparable to our ‘in person’ courses?
Can we access the best technologies and support to translate our ‘in the room’ course content to an online format? (Above and beyond merely a wholesale shifting of existing content and structure to zoom.)
How confident are we that new students will graduate with the high-level of skills, attitudes and self-awareness needed to achieve their goals?
We weighed up pros and cons, researched current thinking on online learning but much seems to justify virtual working so fervently it smells of ‘spin’. As we resisted the pressure to rush headlong into action and join the movement online, words from Nancy Kline, author of Time to Think came to mind – “Thinking for yourself is still a radical act.”
There’s evidence that students are significantly less satisfied with an online course than with an equivalent in-person course. Of course there are advantages to virtual learning, but face-to-face training has specific advantages that are particularly relevant to our business. Here are a few that seem to come up often:
Social interaction during training sessions, including informally during breaks
The ability to get immediate answers to questions
More fluid exchange of ideas
Better retention due to decreased likelihood of multitasking
Immediate instructor feedback on coaching practice
Higher satisfaction scores
Flexibility and personalization of each training session, as a trainer this sensing into and ‘reading the room’ enables me to adapt content in the moment
By their very nature, virtual learning platforms are subject to technical issues, such as security, network, and bandwidth glitches. ‘Zoom’ fatigue (google searches for this are currently at 76,500,000)
So, though our courses already include online work and will incorporate more blended learning in future, and even though it makes financial sense, even though we really, really, don’t want to disappoint anyone eager to start training – at the moment we don’t think online format would meet our benchmarks. If we can’t start new cohorts this summer as planned we will postpone, perhaps later this year or into next year. Let us know right away if you want to join our training. We’ll keep you posted.
Before COVID19 hit the UK, work for most of us was full on – with constant pressure to hit deadlines, manage shrinking budgets and be on call 24-7. When you’re that busy keeping your head above the water it’s hard to make time to contemplate your own wellbeing.
Dr Steve Aldana has authored 75 scientific papers on health risk management, and he sums up the importance of wellbeing at work saying “ When you offer your employees a wellbeing program you are telling them that you respect them, you trust them, and that you want to help them be successful in life.” This interest in wellbeing is being reflected at top level in the country with the all-party parliamentary group on wellbeing economics suggesting that personal wellbeing rather than economic growth should be the primary aim of government spending.
Having established that wellbeing matters, the next step is introducing it in the workplace. If employers recognise the importance of their employees to their organisation, then it follows that they’ll ensure that the health and wellbeing of their staff features at the top of the agenda. They can do this with a variety of strategies. Implementing flexible working hours can help relieve tension balancing home, family and work – and then there’s communication, how is it managed in the workplace? Poor communication can lead to negativity, disempowerment and mental stress whereas if staff know what’s expected of them then they’re more likely to perform to their full potential. Employers can encourage their employees to be healthy by instigating lunch-time yoga sessions or group activities (great for bonding and relieving pressure) and how about suggesting that employees walk or cycle to work?
Now we’re in the middle of a pandemic many of us will have suddenly found ourselves working from home – which brings new challenges for our wellbeing. Statistician Nic Marks is best known for his work on the Happy Planet Index, and he writes about the importance of building team trust remotely in Working through the Coronavirus. Emails or messaging services may be good for business efficiency, but they don’t convey the personal – we pick up all sorts of non-verbal cues from facial expressions etc, which we need to build trust and psychological safety. To maintain positive team dynamics, he advises investing in good video conferencing. Empathy is important – many of us find new challenges to working from home so it is good practice to try and encourage people to create new rituals in how they work, bearing in mind that most people can only concentrate for about 50 minutes at a time, so short breaks are essential. ‘Side conversations’ matter too – social chat between team members is important for morale now we’re not grabbing a quick coffee with work-mates. Many will find remote working disorientating, so make time to check in too – not only on the work people are doing but how they’re feeling. And senior and people leaders need to have new systems in place that enable them to keep in touch with their teams. A weekly people check-up will allow leaders to monitor and track employee experience across the whole organisation. Who knows when things will revert back, but at least if organisations are mindful of their employees’ wellbeing then positives can come out of this disruption.
At Wise Goose we’re aware of the important role coaching plays in building resilience and wellbeing. Founder Helen Sieroda says “At Wise Goose we’ve identified how a good coaching style from a manager helps tackle difficult conversations when things aren’t going well, get employees fully engaged, be more effective in helping people to flourish and be themselves, as opposed to just trying to fit into a role – it’s incredibly powerful! Coaching gives people the support, tools and resources they need to become their best versions of themselves, taking a proactive approach to their performance and wellbeing. Sometimes we get entrenched in work patterns and ways of doing things that sap our energy and don’t give us what we need to be as productive as we can be. It’s just about stopping and asking the right questions in order to find the best solutions. Coaching skills help people become more resourceful, creative, able to solve problems and thrive in their workplace.”
Wise Goose’s Advanced Coaching Diploma Programme looks at these strategies for coaching workplace wellbeing and resilience. Find out more at https://wisegoose.co.uk/foundation-programme/ Presently start dates for the next diploma programme are under review due to Covid19, so please register your interest by emailing email@example.com
Written in the 13th century, this poem an oldie, but goodie. Though overused in mindfulness circles to the point of becoming a cliché, it’s still a beautiful reminder to meet, accept and respect the myriad of visitors I’ve been entertaining as COVID19 lock-down sweeps my house empty of furniture. So here’s a virtual cup of tea for our uninvited guests. With all my love, Helen
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honourably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.
Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
Jellaludin Rumi Rumi: Selected Poems, trans Coleman Barks with John Moynce, A. J. Arberry, Reynold Nicholson (Penguin Books, 2004)
It’s Monday and it’s definitely not business as usual …
My desk is the same, I was due to work from home today, so being here is no different, but I’m feeling very, very different. Priorities have changed, uncertainty seems to be the order of the day.
This time last week I was in London delivering the training course in the Story Garden as scheduled, enjoying watching the group coaching in March sunshine we’d all been hoping for. What a difference a week makes. Much of our lives has changed, for everyone. Living in a pandemic is outside our experience, there are no (or very few) reference points, it makes life confusing, especially as advice is changing from day to day.
At the end of last week, I had a burst of energy, exploring options to offer to groups who are mid- training, especially the Devon cohort who were looking forward to mid- April and the last 3 days of a year of training. I had a quick look at the accounts, cash flow is OK for now. The good news is we don’t have a lot of fixed overheads here at Wise Goose, one of the upsides of being a small, ‘boutique style’ training provider, but I have decided to stop paying my salary from April. I’m lucky, my husband can work remotely and as a professor of health care modelling is in demand.
Even so, this is hitting my survival buttons. Our ‘Steps into Coaching’ free taster session was cancelled last week, and others scheduled unlikely to run. This means that even if ‘social distancing’ restrictions were lifted in time, which is not going to happen, given all the uncertainty it would be hard to fill the new groups scheduled to start later in the summer. No new groups = no (or not much) income.
On the surface I’ve not been feeling particularly stressed, but though not intense, I know I’m anxious, I notice I’m not thinking so clearly, it’s harder to focus, I’m no neuroscientist, but surely this is a sign of a busy amygdala; the limbic system in action. I probably should be sending out an upbeat, typically ‘positive’ coaching style message, but I’m not going to lie. Truth is, this morning I’m sluggish and feeling dull and unmotivated, perhaps a sign that the adrenaline boost at the end of the week is giving way to the stress of higher levels of cortisol in the bloodstream. This isn’t a good thing, prolonged, chronic levels of cortisol don’t support clear thinking, it raises blood pressure, lowers immunity and even, eventually will help make me fatter around the middle, something I really don’t need!
What to do? Well,
I’ve decided to be kind to myself and to not expect myself to be on top of my
game. The sun is shining and I’m going to go up to the allotment where I plan
to sit and soak in the peace of the place and sow seeds. I’m not going to try to crunch figures, or read
anything too demanding; an easy read, maybe even reread something I love just
for the familiarity of an old friend.
I’m going to pause and give myself space for wondering about ‘all this’
and where I am in the midst of it. I’ll
deal with what must be dealt with, take care of the calls in the diary but
mostly my strategy for the next few days is to breathe, listen and feel my way
back into action from a more settled place.
I know it’s not time wasted but time well spent, I’ll be more effective
when I return to the desk.
As I reach the end of this post I realise I’m being kind to myself, and as I sign off I’ve started wondering about the power of kindness, which reminds me of something; I wander over to the bookshelves in my office. I’ve decided on my book ‘The Power of Kindness’ by psychosynthesis friend Piero Ferrucci. It’s coming with me to the allotment. Take care and keep well. With love Helen
Gone are the days of having one career for life. Times have changed.
Today’s global market-place makes our working lives more impermanent and unpredictable plus with a potentially longer working life we’re less likely to settle with something that merely pays the bills. We want something more – so phrases like ‘self-improvement’ and ‘personal journey’ become part of our criteria when considering our work. Many participants who come to train with Wise Goose feel that they’re at a crossroads and are looking to step forward into something new. Recent Wise Goose graduate and Career Coach Lucy Weldon wrote in a previous Wise Goose blog “If you don’t like your job, be clear on the reasons. And if you’re not sure what they are, go and talk them through with someone, as well as start to explore what you could do. There’s lots of aspects that could improve your lot before you change job. But if it is a change that you are looking for, there is plenty of advice available… Be positive. It helps achieve the right outcome.”
What factors contribute to arriving at this career
crossroads? Sometimes a change in our
personal lives makes us feel lost, becoming a parent may shift priorities from
work to home, children growing up and leaving the nest can make us feel empty,
or maybe we’re no longer with people we enjoy and respect. Writing for Forbes, Kathy
Caprino writes “We can feel lost when our work has pulled us away from our core
values and our sense of integrity and honesty. We can feel lost when we’re
being mistreated and discriminated against…” identifying feelings that
contribute to what she calls ‘power gaps’ which ultimately stop us from being
effective authors of our own lives.
If we’ve identified that we need a career change – then the next
step is working out what we want so we can move forward and take control. The School of Life says its
because our brains aren’t well equipped to interpret and understand themselves.
“We cannot sit down and simply inquire
of ourselves directly what we might want to do with our working lives – we must
learn to tease out insights concealed in apparently tiny movements of
satisfaction and distress scattered across our lives.” Recognising how vague our minds are helps
gain a new perspective… “We start to appreciate that our career analysis is
going to take time, that it has many stages, that the reach for an immediate
answer can backfire – and that it is a strangely magnificent, delicate and
noble task to work out what one should most justly do with the rest of one’s
brief life on earth. We should have the confidence to believe that large
portions of a sound answer are already in us.”
Career Coach Maggie
Mistal sees the process as being more akin to doing a jigsaw puzzle, finding
the pieces and putting them together.
She suggests examining a variety of factors including ideal salary,
skills you most enjoy using, finding what motivates you, your unique mission or
purpose, and details like size of a company and location of an employer.
Of course it takes courage – and timing is key. Lucy Weldon believes you should look before
you leap in order to reduce uncertainty about the feature. “What I am certain about is that ‘managing
uncertainty’ is a skill that helps inordinately in life. It’s the knowing when
to push, when to wait and allow luck, the Universe, or whatever to intervene,
provided the groundwork is done.” One
way to do that groundwork could be to enlist for training as a coach. Not only will adding coaching to your portfolio
open options which can make you more employable in a new career, but it
will help you in your own self-growth. To
that end Wise Goose runs free taster days where you
can test the water and see if coaching really is for you – with no financial
outlay it just might get you out of neutral and set you on your way. What do you think? Are you ready to change gear and move forward
from your career crossroads?
I myself am only a child playing on the beach, while vast oceans of truth lie undiscovered before me. Issac Newton
Earlier this month I said goodbye to my son who is off on the next leg of his ‘gap’ travels before starting university in the autumn. It’s time for him to step out into the world, widen horizons and explore who he becomes as he encounters different places and people. A few days later I said goodbye to our first London cohort, it’s been a rich and enjoyable year with an enthusiastic and engaged group. They are stepping out now and their perspective on coaching will change as they encounter new situations and new clients. Continue reading “Widening Coaching Perspectives”