Coaching? You cannot be serious!

Yesterday I attended Carole Pemberton’s excellent coaching masterclass on resilience and, a few weeks ago, the launch of a new book curated by Liz Hall on Coaching in Times of Crisis and Transformation. On both occasions I have had fascinating conversations about the place of humour in coaching, particularly when a client is emotionally in a really difficult place.

We know about the dark humour shared by professionals who deal daily with people in trauma. A group I worked with on a leadership programme were in the front line of supporting victims of rape and sexual assault. When I respectfully asked what that was like, I was told “oh, we have a real laugh” but they implied no disrespect for the victims or their experience.

After my mother died quite suddenly, I recognised the jokes that my brothers and I shared as we cleared her house were part of the grieving process. After all, what else can you do but laugh when you discover that someone had 15 shoe-horns and a stash of plastic gifts from ancient Christmas Crackers.

It strikes me that part of resilience is over-coming the darkness of a situation, of finding some light in it. It’s a part of gaining perspective. And that is one of the things that coaches must help their clients find in all situations. It does not diminish the difficulty our clients face, but it does help the burden feel lighter. This echoes Jenny Campbell’s findings about the internal resources of resilient leaders.

Now, as Jimmy Tarbuck once said, in humour, timing is everything. Clients need their crisis or trauma to be recognised, they need to be heard. Responding with a guffaw to a heart-felt tale of woe would quickly lead to a reputation as the Frankie Boyle of the coaching world. And humour is not only antidote to darkness or negativity, it can carry some of the emotional response in being wry or wistful or acerbic. So we need to listen carefully to it, it’s not just catharsis.

As I coach, I am respectful and am often serious. I empathise with the depth of challenge that some clients experience. But like my favourite coaches, I am also playful, iconoclastic and robust. So if I am going to be fully present with my client, and help them to bring all their resources to any challenge, then that playful self also needs to turn up.

Being fully present shows that I am ok sitting with a client in crisis. That helps them find hope and move towards a mental state that is flexible and able to work with the possible. It’s the third state between rigidity and chaos that Paul Brown and Helen Leeder Barker write about in Liz Hall’s book and it’s a state which allows a focus on the future.

So, as coaches we need to hold ourselves lightly: balance our wisdom and commitment with childishness. And if someone asks what happens in coaching, talk about it as a place not only of serious endeavour and safety but also as a place of playfulness and perspective.

The Mystery of Coaching Mastery

This is something that I have been wondering about and working on for some time: what is it that makes a top level coach? If that question interests you too, please have a look at my article in the latest edition of The Listener which you can find at http://www.kensmithcoaching.co.uk/page10.htm I'd love to hear what you think.

Coaching - a curious conversation

 

I read an interesting article today in the July edition of the Association for Coaching’s magazine. The editor interviews Aboodi Shabi and draws out his views on whether coaches should get involved in the big issues of the day. Aboodi gives a resounding “yes” and adds that we must bring our curiosity in order to understand how others see the world differently to how we do. He adds that in

a world of loneliness, coaching has a spiritual function. We can help people be more public about their sadness and their fury. And help leaders find what they are committed to beyond themselves and stand up for their values. All worthwhile. But I believe there is also wider value in how we do what we do.

At the heart of our practice is a commitment to speak the truth as we see it. We give direct feedback

with generosity, courage and good intent. We use our intuition but check what it tells us. And above all, we are curious about the other’s world, its internal logic, and the key stories that fuel it. And we look to join our clients in deeply understanding that world without judging it.

It is not for us to tell our clients whether they should engage with the world, or which of the big issues demand their attention. Indeed, the whole idea of us having goals for our clients is fraught with difficulty if they are to drive the agenda of our work with them. But I want my clients to become more self-correcting. I want them to become more self-regulating. I want them not to need me. And to do that, they need to understand themselves and something of how I work with them.

Now what would happen if they took that one step further? What if they got the habit of telling the truth to others so it could be heard? What if they combined intuition with logic to create insights? What if their approach to others who think, live, and believe differently were one of curiosity not judgement? And if we all conducted our business and pursued our politics in that way, how would the world be different?

I’m running a workshop in a few weeks with a group of senior Whitehall civil servants. We’re going to work on listening as a core leadership skill. I wonder what we’ll see if they bring listening to the core of how government works. And the Labour Party will soon chose a new leader. The contenders have different qualities and different views on what the country and the Labour Party needs. And that will surely weigh as members of the Labour Party decide who deserves their vote. But what would it signal if they chose the one who showed the greatest curiosity, the best listening skills, and the ability, authentically, to tell the truth as they saw it?

Grounded optimism, pragmatic pessimism

I read a blog-post today extolling the power of adopting a positive attitude and I felt my hackles begin to rise. That simple switch seems to be the panacea for every ill, no matter how challenging.

At its worst, the emphasis on ‘attitude’ dangerously misrepresents our relation to the world, implying that our attitude creates events and determines outcomes.

It's not that simple.

It’s not that a positive attitude is unhelpful. Indeed, I find that many of my coaching clients underestimate their power and their ability to control or influence a situation that challenges them. So often I find myself helping them find clarity and perspective simply by asking “what do you want?” and “how might you get it?” 

As coaches, we often challenge our clients’ assumptions about their power. We also help them recognise that the attitude they take to a challenge is a choice. And that choice either opens up or closes down options for action. All part of the coach’s armory.

But our armory also needs a model of power rooted in the reality of organisational life – whatever the type of organisation our clients operate within. Individuals have power but it is not unlimited. And success in meeting a challenge is not just a matter of attitude: it often takes hard realism, analysis and planning. We can borrow from best practice in organisational change where strategic analysis, option appraisal and risk management are all part of the kit bag. And so they should be when the change is personal or interpersonal, even if we don't use those dry labels.

Good analytic tools complement the resourcefulness that comes from a positive mind-set. Indeed, they ground that optimism, make it real and enable the client to have a hard look at their emotional state and readiness for action. They also show how it’s not your negative or positive mind-set that brings greater control, it’s more your orientation towards action.

Passive optimism is often delusional. Passive pessimism brings swift defeat. Both active optimism and active pessimism have strengths. With clients, I challenge the first to bring rigour to their thinking. And challenge the second to promote openness and creativity in finding solutions to the risks they see. 

So if you are facing a challenge at work, by all means adopt a positive attitude. But more important than that: get real, get serious and, when you’re ready, get moving.

Cloistered calmness

Wandering in the cloisters of the Mosterio dos Jeronimos in Lisbon trying (with difficultly) to 'channel my inner monk', I noticed how much the architect, builders and funders of this magnificent building invested in creating a place of calm. They seemed to think it was important.
 

For Lisbon's monks, contemplation and calmness were part of withdrawing from the world. In our time, finding a place of calm creates a platform for returning to the world.

Increasingly, that is what I see my clients find in coaching. Intractable problems have a frenetic quality, complex and inscrutable. Coaching brings clarity, simplicity and calm. Clarity about the issue and action are important takeaways. But the experience of being calm, of relaxed control, is just as important, and more enduring because it helps my clients feel how they want to be,  not just know what they want to do.

Becoming calm helps the mind do its work. Particularly if it removes the urge to force a solution to appear. I wrote the first two paragraphs of this piece and was not sure where to take it next. So I put it to one side and my last morning in Lisbon took me to the tropical garden in the Edward VII park. I was not trying to decide how to continue this piece, not even thinking about it consciously, but the germ of an idea found me as I enjoyed the greenery.

That's why patience matters so much in coaching. And why becoming a coach requires us to unlearn so much of what we think we know about problem solving. It does not mean that we give up on looking for solutions. Sometimes they pop right out and moving into action is simply a matter of deciding. But sometimes stuckness goes deep and it's only when we sit calmly and curiously  with it that clarity and simplicity emerge.