Showing posts with label connection. Show all posts
Showing posts with label connection. Show all posts

Monday, 21 April 2014

Orphaned adverts and disconnects


The No 57 tram stopped here in Frederick Street, Edinburgh.

A friend once told me that one of my biggest strengths as a facilitator is my ability to make connections. I also have a tendency to notice disconnects.


Orphaned Adverts


I can’t help noticing out-of-date adverts on the underground. There are places on the London network where posters for shows that have closed linger on. At the foot of an escalator at Oxford Circus, a touring version of the “The Nutcracker” from a former republic of the Soviet Union, plays on. Did anyone go? Are some adverts doomed never to find an audience?

The British Linen Bank, 141 Princes Street, Edinburgh, 1920s


Banks that were cashed in


Also the crests and names above the doors of former banks, now amalgamated, and - final insult - turned into a Wetherspoons pub, or worse. The National Provincial Bank carved in stone in Piccadilly, London. The British Linen Bank in George Street, Edinburgh. Cheques are no longer accepted here.

Severed from the network


And railway stations severed from the network. The Caledonian Railway terminus on Princes Street Edinburgh, where Queen Elizabeth II and the King of Norway arrived in a train from Leith Central Station in 1962. Aged 9, I watched the royals go by from a window at the West End Branch of the British Linen Bank, now – wait for this – selling tartan souvenirs.

Leith Central Station in 1962


Left by the roadside

And tram stops. In Frederick Street, Edinburgh, a damaged but decorative tram stop from the original network survives at the edge of the kerb. People park their cars beside it. The No 57 tram stopped here. And, by the way, trams are back on Princes Street after 57 years. Why did I notice the tiles, and why does this one stop survive? It’s like the adverts in the underground. The meaning has gone out of its message.

Loss Aversion


Behavioural theorists say that we have a tendency to strongly prefer avoiding losses to acquiring gains. I get a lot of messages from the past. 'See this show!' 'Bank with us!' 'Catch a train!' 'Get on a tram!' It’s not exactly nostalgia. It’s more about noticing connections, and making meaning. My mum always said I was good at noticing things.


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Tuesday, 3 September 2013

Serendipity at work


Cows discovering their sense of purpose at Buitenwerkplaats.

“What is serendipity?”, said the handsome young Dutchman, opposite whom the waitress had seated me. I didn’t dare ask him, myself, if I could sit at his table. He was too good-looking, too blond, and too alone, to be approachable. It was the waitress who decided I should sit at his table.

Serendipity, I hazarded, “is a coming together of random events that produces unexpected and happy results. Our meeting,” I continued, “is serendipitous, because we are discovering so many things in common, and the chances of us sitting at the same table, in the same cafĂ©, tonight, must have been very small.”

Going with the flow

Have you ever spent time in a Dutch Polder surrounded by water? The cows and the sheep graze on the greenest squares of grass, and the herons flop from ditch to ditch. High above the houses, cyclists and barges sail by. The sound of the water lapping in the canal can be alarming if, like me, you are more used to the noise of traffic. Why does the water from the canal not drain into the fields, I asked? “Our dykes are extremely well built”, said my host. 

Discovering our purpose

Last month, I spent a week living and working at Buitenwerkplaats, an architect designed space for people who want to reflect, plan, create and do. You can browse the books, interpret the art, and lose yourself in the watery landscape. The furniture, like the food, is carefully curated. 

Buitenwerkplaats encourages intimacy. Guests can float between indoor and outdoor spaces. Meals are tethered to tables under the trees, or moored to the boardwalk by the pool. There are no barriers between the people who work there, the groups who come for a week, and the guests who come for a day's thinking time. I connected with the lady who changes the beds, the poets who came to plan, and the couple who are writing their first novel together.

Buitenwerkplaats has a ‘sense of place’ that I believe is key to helping people to connect with themselves, and with each other. And in the process of making discoveries about ourselves and other people, we may discover a sense of purpose. The day after I left Buitenwerkplaats, I went to Anne Frank’s House in Amsterdam. This is a quote from Anne’s diary that I read on the wall.

“I know what I want, I have a goal, I have opinions, a religion
and love.”

Anne Frank, 11 April 1944

Later that day, I met the young Dutchman who asked me to define serendipity. Just like that. 

Serendipity

I didn’t mean to write this blog, today. I didn’t plan to go to yoga, this morning. But I woke in time, splashed my face with water, and went with the flow. And after we had breathed, and bent, and stretched, our teacher read these words to us:

“Water is fluid, soft and yielding. But water will wear away rock, which is rigid and cannot yield. As a rule, whatever is fluid, soft and yielding will overcome whatever is rigid and hard. This is another paradox: what is soft is strong.”

Lao-Tzu, Chinese philosopher (604 BC - 531 BC)

And I thought, serendipity. I need to write this blog today about embracing fluidity and making connections and discoveries that I hadn’t looked for. And I hope it will make sense to all the wise people who, quite by accident, inspired me to write it.

2-3 September 2013


Oxford Online Definition of Serendipity
The occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way

1754: coined by Horace Walpole, suggested by The Three Princes of Serendip, the title of a fairy tale in which the heroes ‘were always making discoveries, by accidents and sagacity, of things they were not in quest of’

Saturday, 16 March 2013

Becoming a coach: me and Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme


I’ve got a permanent sugar rush of thoughts and feelings about coaching and training. I’m like Monsieur Jourdain in Moliere’s ‘Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme’, who discovered that, all his life, he had been speaking prose without knowing it.

Fifteen months ago, I started a serious executive coaching programme. Two days ago, I attended a final assessment day. Soon I will find out whether or not I have met the standard.

To get to the assessment day, I had to notch up one induction day, four residential training modules, four tutorials, dozens of practice coaching sessions, much reading of coaching texts and articles, four required learning logs, two unplanned blogs, and one theoretical essay. Having gone through all of that, it’s no wonder I am having a rush of thoughts and feelings about learning and coaching. 

What lies beneath my training approach
I’ve made a connection between Gestalt based coaching and my approach to delivering leadership training. Like Monsieur Jourdain, I have discovered that, all my life, I have been using Gestalt methodology to underpin my training courses, without knowing it. 

Instinctively, I design training programmes as participative learning journeys. I encourage learners to:


  • listen and observe
  • notice what they are thinking and feeling
  • gather and make sense of data
  • keep an open mind, and
  • work together to make sense of challenges and dilemmas.
From a Gestalt coaching perspective, this is about being and learning in the moment, and noticing patterns and connections. It’s about raising awareness of real needs, and mobilising energy towards appropriate action. 

I’m still processing what I have learned. I can’t wait to review my training practice through a Gestalt lens. Meanwhile, here is the 'before' and 'after' of my approach to coaching.



How I coached before the course

How I coach now

Took responsibility for solving the client’s dilemmas and problems

I work in partnership with the client
Analysed what the client was telling me

Observe, reflect, summarise

Tried very hard to be nice

Not afraid to challenge appropriately

Asked lots of unhelpful (dissonant) questions

Comfortable with silence

Talked about my experiences

Appropriately disclose if the client is interested in hearing about my experience


Believed I must have the answers

Not afraid to say ‘I don’t know what to do with this’

Pushed the client into action

Create space for the client to discover what they want to do

Made assumptions about what the client was telling me

Form working hypotheses AND keep an open mind

Thought ahead constantly which affected my ability to be present

Stay fully present with the client

Relied on listening and questioning

Invite the client to experiment Gestalt and Cognitive Behavioural methodologies

Felt awkward contracting and closing

Am more confident when contracting and helping client to identify what they have learned



It’s been quite a journey. I really must apologise to all my friends who volunteered to be coached by me, when I didn’t know what I know now.



16 March 2013

Thanks for reading my blog. If you liked this page, you might like to check out my business website which has more content on leadership and learning.

www.kellowlearning.com