ABOODI SHABI
‘Keep me away from the wisdom which does not cry, the philosophy which does not laugh and the greatness which does not bow before children’ Kahlil Gibran
I was at a party the other day, having a discussion with an old friend about what she might do next in her career. I suggested coaching could be one possible path.
“God, no!” she exclaimed, “I’m far too messed up for that!” It’s not an especially unusual reaction – the idea that one has to be sorted out, ‘coach-like’, to do this work. And yet, it’s an idea I react strongly against.
I think it does us and, more importantly, our clients, no favours to expect ourselves to be somehow any more sorted out than anyone else.
I remember when I lived with my ex-partner and her children, I was asked if we would be interested in taking part in a documentary about families working with one of Steven Covey’s books. We had a discussion over dinner one evening, and her teenage son, with whom I had a particularly challenging relationship, jumped in with, “Yeah! Then they can see what a jerk you really are! The jerk behind the coach. Let’s do it!” He had a point.
Whatever the public perceptions and ideas about coaches, I see myself as I see my clients – another human being trying to make sense of life in a rapidly changing world, facing the same concerns: trying to make ends meet in a downward market, turning 50 and regretting decisions made as a younger man, still finding out who I am, still messing up in certain areas.
Julio Olalla, founder of Newfield Network, and one of the elders of the coaching profession, often says that we don’t coach from our greatness, but from our wounds. It is our wounds, our challenges, and our attempts to heal and resolve them, that give us the gift to support others in their difficult places.
I have talked with hundreds of coaches, and it saddens me to hear many speak of their struggle to be perfect, and how they see themselves as less of a coach because of this. In fact, many students in the programmes I lead say that a big part of their learning has been to accept themselves as humans first, coaches second, and to see humanity itself as the gift to their clients.
I’ve seen coaches trying to work from that ‘sorted’ place, and I’ve noticed two things. First, that the coaching lacks authenticity and depth. Second, the client doesn’t fully relax into the coaching. They feel they might be judged for their flaws, rather than held as the whole human being they are. For example, a coach who is always trying to be positive can hold back a client from speaking honestly about how negative she feels.
When I came into coaching in the mid 90s, many worked with The Clean Sweep – a checklist of things to do and not do, such as never drink coffee or tea. At a presentation by Laura Berman Fortgang, one of America’s best-known coaches, one novice expressed relief that “you could be a top coach and still drink coffee”. It sounds trivial, but for me it points to something critical – that we can easily fall into the trap of thinking that being coachlike means being perfect rather than human. If we become gurus we cannot meet them authentically where they are.
We coaches are in the business of supporting people to be their highest selves, and we shouldn’t give that up, but we must not lose our roots to the ground and to the mud beneath.
Aboodi Shabi is head of coaching and training for Newfield Europe www.newfieldeurope.com. Read his (occasionally) provocative blogs at www.aboodishabi.com
It does us, and our clients, no favours to expect ourselves to be more sorted than anyone else
Coaching at Work, Volume 7, Issue 1