A Personal Life Coach Interviewed

This interview with Caroline appeared in our local newspaper recently, and generated a lot of interest, I think because it clarifies so succinctly the difference between a personal life coach and traditional counsellors and therapists. Here it is in its entirety:

How did you come to be a coach?

I studied psychology at McGill and wanted to be a therapist, but also a stay at home mother; that came first. Years later as my children began to leave the nest I read in the Montreal Gazette about coaching, and realised it was an even better fit. After some research, I found the school where I was subsequently trained.

My life has been one of introspection and self-examination. I was a divorced mother with four children and diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. I dealt with those challenges by writing a book and leading a workshop for MS sufferers. Nine years ago I co-founded Quiet Mind Seminars with my husband. These therapeutic tools were not just for others but for me too, and a catalyst for my personal growth.

My work with Quiet Mind Seminars is fundamental to my coaching practice. Mindful reflection, self-awareness, and personal growth bring richness and quality to the method I learned. Being a part of the workshops and the community that’s formed around them has given me even broader insight into the daily stresses of life. Everyone has a story; everyone experiences tragedy; everyone gets stuck. We all need a support system.

What sort of people come to a coach?

People who are aware of their frustration — of their inability to get to where they want to be; they recognize they can’t do it alone, and that their strategies to date haven’t worked. That’s our starting point.

Those who contact me find something in my website that makes real change seem doable; they come motivated to participate in a working relationship. Instead of the judgement, advice and counselling most people associate with therapy, they’re looking for the confidence and inner strength they need to act on their own self-knowledge.

Like counselling and therapy, the coach-client relationship is critical to the outcome. Above all, a coach listens and reflects, helping you discover and invest in qualities you already have. With exercises custom-designed for your personality and situation, I bring buried abilities to the surface. Those exercises are painstakingly constructed — in fact, most of my work takes place between meetings as I consider what I’ve heard and felt. For clients, the process is one of discovery, moving forward through active reflection. They witness change for themselves, and that makes it real and enduring.

How does change happen?

Change happens by first of all indentifying just how you’re stuck in a particular situation — such as a relationship at work or at home. I dig up forgotten or ignored perspectives so you can deal with it in a new way. This widening vision is profoundly simple, but hard to find without the reflective feedback of a trained coach. Then, brief daily exercises shape that change for clearer awareness, new attitudes and greater meaning.

Bringing out neglected aspects of yourself recharges your self-image, clarifies what you want and changes the way you deal with others. The defining quality of such natural change has nothing to do with me or my opinions but with who you are. The new directions are part of you, not some new idea introduced by someone else. My job is to hear, understand, interpret and reflect what the client says.

My training enables me to resist the impulse to think I know what’s best; I help clients see all possibilities, not to advise them. That way, the process of change is genuinely their own.

Describe the process

Coaching starts with a goal or a wish to achieve something. Often, the goal is not fully formed and we work to define it more clearly. It may be as simple as, “to change careers,” or “to have a better relationship with my spouse.”

Clients participate actively at every step. For ten or fifteen minutes a day they’re asked to step outside of familiar patterns and practice their custom techniques. Subsequently, they look back upon them with greater awareness of not just who they are but also who they can be. It’s a holistic perspective. In coaching you’re doing something every day, pursuing change in small increments. It’s less of an intellectual exercise than a physical, emotional, intuitive one. Stopping smoking, for example, is always a good idea — and yet it’s hard. Why? Because it’s not the thinking brain that initiates change. We change though continual practice, like learning to ride a bike. It’s a gentle but strong process. A good coach sees resistance and adjusts the exercises as things progress.

What has your coaching career taught you about people?

That when they realise that they have what they need already inside them, and that the change is coming from them and not someone else, they find courage and strength. To this day I get goose bumps whenever I see that realisation; it’s tremendously exciting. The coach is a catalyst of change, not the initiator, so in many ways I’m an onlooker — but a friendly one.

For more information, visit www.courey.com or call NEW WAY life coaching 450-853-0616.

Business Ethics — an oxymoron?

My next door neighbour is baffled when I object to him running power tools all Saturday and Sunday long. “But it’s my right!” he exclaims. Indeed it is. What he ignores is that everything allowed by law isn’t necessarily neighbourly. In business, this same attitude comes across as, ‘It doesn’t matter how we treat people as long as it doesn’t affect our bottom line.’

That, presumably, is what magazine editors feel when I go to the trouble of writing and submitting an article, and don’t even get a, ‘Sorry, it’s not for us,’ in reply. About three-quarters of my enquiries are not even rejected; they’re just ignored. So much for the glossy, proudly ‘ethical’ Buddhist publications.

Perhaps they see me as a pesky solicitor impinging on their precious time, but I’m beginning to see the same discourtesy from people who solicit me. Companies enquiring about web design have no trouble peppering me with questions and demanding quotes, but if they decide to not use my services I might be the last to know. Even when they become bona-fide clients, few bother to read the contracts I piece together so painstakingly, and blame me when I explain that an unanticipated task will take extra time — and that it’s not free. Then I’m the bad guy!

Think I’m thin-skinned? That’s hardly the point. Shrugging off their bad behaviour is my decision, not theirs; they’re taking me for granted. What about building a finer workplace culture? That better serves the bottom line than rushing about getting away with whatever you can, doesn’t it? Mindful reflection isn’t just an abstract spiritual fantasy; it’s about focus and finesse, and it’s not just for Buddhists. Call it good manners, business sense, godliness — whatever.

What’s the point of being alive if you don’t reach out? Connecting with the people around us is how we grow. The sick, the losers and the social misfits teach us more than all those faces that fill prime-time TV — because they’re right here in our world; they’re real. There, but for our temporary good fortune, goes each and every one of us.

Some people think life’s just about gain. When things are going well, they preoccupy themselves with a plastic imitation of the good life — but they’re missing out on the real thing, and it shows. They’re not nice because they’re not happy; and they’re not happy because they just don’t get it. Where’s the good life if you only acknowledge the winners you deem worthy of your attention?

Never mind cultural stereotypes: the world is not divided into winners and losers. We all win some, lose some. We’re in the same boat. A bit of commiseration goes a long way, not just to hedge your bets but to gain real insight. The meaning of life is famously impossible to put into words — because it’s not an idea. When you’re in touch with it, however, you know it; you feel it. Nothing’s more concrete than being connected to the world and the people who cross your path, invited or not.

Ignoring your neighbours’ feelings is just the thin end of the wedge. Before long, there’ll be no peace to your weekend and no respect in the workplace, and that’s a pretty grim outlook.

Doubt & Certainty

“Expose yourself to doubt,” it used to say on the masthead above (Caroline later came up with “question life’s big answers.”) Periodically, I’m asked, Why? After all, the Buddha said, “There is nothing more dreadful than the habit of doubt.” Actually, He was talking about mistrust.

When it comes to belief in things that are simply beyond our ken, he wholeheartedly encouraged doubt and questioning. If we don’t know something we should just say so, and not make up an answer. I always loved the honesty of that approach. Scepticism is a fundamental tenet of what the Buddha taught.

Since Caroline entered my life, however, it’s become less of a philosophical point of view and more of a daily reality check.

I love Caroline for who she is; that needs no saying. I also love life with Caroline, and that sometimes mystifies people who don’t know us. My siblings were horrified when they learned I’d teamed up with a woman with an incurable neurodegenerative disease. What sort of future was I signing up for? Even Caroline herself, as she felt us growing close back in those early days, urged me, “Run! Save yourself.”

I laughed.

She frowned. “I mean it.”

“I know you do,” I said, “but I mean to stick around — as long as you want me to, anyway.”

She’d lived with multiple sclerosis for eight years at that point, and was as accustomed to it as she’d ever get, I suppose. She took it one day at a time. This was far more of a challenge than I’d ever had to deal with, but I’d lived long enough to know that I might avoid one problem only to end up with a bigger one.

“if you’re not afraid of death from time to time,
you’re not human.”

The important thing was that life with Caroline was unmistakably good in so many ways that I didn’t want to miss it. But suppose the future turned out to be horrible? Well, the future’s always horrible sooner or later, isn’t it? It’s never stopped the human race. No one knows what awaits them — except for certain death, of course. Compared to that, everything else is chicken feed.

Close to the end of my monkhood, I was taken for lunch by a benefactor. It was quite common for sponsored monks. We were expected to repay their material aid with our spiritual support. Once we’d looked over the menu and ordered, she leaned forward with an intense gaze and asked, “Aren’t you afraid of death?”

I shook my head nonchalantly. I think I truly believed I’d taken the Buddha’s words about impermanence to heart, and was at peace with my mortality. On the other hand, as I look back I can’t help thinking that I was still youthfully stupid enough to believe in my own ultimate immortality. I saw reincarnation as a hedge against extinction (which is about as opposite to the Buddha’s thinking as you could get). “No,” I said. I’m not afraid of death.”

She maintained her gaze. Clearly, she was afraid. I never did find out what prompted her intensity — a medical diagnosis or the loss of a loved one, perhaps. Looking back, I’m humbled by her vulnerability and ashamed of my pretence, even though it was well-intentioned and at least self-consciously sincere. But really — if you’re not afraid of death from time to time, you’re not human.

Nevertheless, sickness and death are grist for the mill — hardly a reason to not stick around someone you love. With that triviality out of the way, we can turn to the good side of living with someone in Caroline’s condition — the constant reminder that we don’t know what to expect, that we can’t be sure of anything — of being exposed to doubt.

Caroline’s recent veinoplasty has given her a new lease on life. It doesn’t seem to be a cure and no one’s adequately explained how it works — but that it works is beyond doubt. She has energy I haven’t seen in years, is exercising and growing stronger, and is regaining some of the balance and mental clarity she’s lost in recent years.

What’s the drawback? We don’t know how long it’ll last.

Well, isn’t that funny? We can’t be certain of anything. And so Caroline takes it one day at a time, and I, by sharing her life, get to share in that attitude in which every moment is unique, contingent and unrepeatable. Circumstances have forced our attention, and attention is always a good thing. It’s the key to the Buddha’s way:
Attention is living; inattention is dying.
The attentive never stop; the inattentive are dead already.
—Siddhattha Gotama, the Buddha [Dhammapada 21, translated by Thanissaro Bhikkhu]

I think that by avoiding doubt, we’re evading reality. Life’s uncertain — so discomfortingly so that we make up certainty — but that’s just the human spin on life. Doubt is healthy; it keeps your mind, your attitude and your options open.

Feeling Better …

Thanks again to everybody for all your kind wishes and inquiries about my health since the veinoplasty procedure in December. I know many of you know, or know of, someone living with MS, so I’m more than happy to share the latest developments of our harrowing, exciting journey.

As soon as two days post-surgery I experienced energy and strength not seen in years in my core and legs. It was quite remarkable, and rather hard to believe. Stephen saw it himself when we went on our first walk in over a year (I gave up walking when I couldn’t make it down our street). We stared at each other in amazement and laughed with excitement; it was strangely surreal.

Christmas was truly wonderful. I was able to enjoy the entire week with my family with unbounded energy and joy. My kids were so surprised and happy. What a gift!

In all my exuberance however, I must have overtaxed my body, because I caught a nasty cold. My newfound energy faded along with the exhilaration and hope.

With the cold mostly gone, I’m happy and relieved to report that the new strength is returning. Not as dramatic as that first week, but there are definite improvements in my gait, stamina and balance. I’m back on the treadmill, and slowly incorporating new exercises into my workout.

The MS is far from gone; the tactility and dexterity of my hands hasn’t improved and I still have fatigue — though not the old, debilitating, total exhaustion. I’m in no way as stable or strong as a ‘healthy’ person of my age — but that’s OK, this is far more than I expected. My hope was that the surgery would halt progression of the disease; at my late stage (eighteen years since diagnosis) I hadn’t even considered the possibility of improvement before this procedure. Every day I feel blessed having this opportunity for a better quality of life, even if it only lasts for a while.

Doctors don’t know the duration or extent of these improvements, assuming you’re fortunate to have improvements (not everyone does). They don’t understand much at all about this procedure, except that many people feel better and that there’s enough evidence to warrant further study. Some studies are already underway in the US and around the world — in pretty well every country except Canada. It’s too bad the MS Society of Canada and the Canadian government are lagging so pathetically behind. Liberal health critic Ujjal Dosanjh and fellow MP Dr. Kirsty Duncan launched a blistering attack on the Canadian Institutes of Health Research and the Multiple Sclerosis Society of Canada in the January 4th edition of the Vancouver Sun, and there’s talk of a class-action lawsuit against them for both damages and criminal negligence, though no one has so far actually initiated this daunting task.

Nevertheless, the procedure is available, and it’s all because of one man — Dr. Paolo Zamboni, whose determination and love for his wife, who suffers from MS, may have finally begun to unlock the mystery of MS and provide relief to over two and a half a million desperate people.

The Meaning of Mindfulness (overview)

Quiet Mind Seminars introduces a new workshop series beginning this Thursday January 13th (details here) entitled The Meaning of Mindfulness.

Mindfulness is in fashion. It’s a great way to savor the present moment and enjoy life to the full. That’s good, but it barely touches on the huge potential of the mindful lifestyle. As a way of life, mindfulness is just one component of the continual effort to wake up and remain attentive. When paired with critical reflection it increases insight and focus in everything you do, creating an effective gap between stimulus and response, leading you away from stressful automaticity and towards intuition and creativity. Mindfulness makes you think of freedom in a completely new way. Register here for this eight-week workshop.

Outline

Week	Topic
1	The mechanics of mindfulness: — what it is & how it works
2	Motivating mindfulness: — seeing the double-bind
3	Refuge & the pursuit of satisfaction — freedom & discipline in the wired world
4	The erosion of self-esteem — understanding and building true confidence
5	Anxiety & peace — how the fear of death robs you of life
6	Craving, karma & samsara — ancient philosophy as a diagnostic tool
7	Anger, forgiveness & love — finding heart in a heartless world
8	Being alone with others — the one and only way

The Gift of Looking Inwards

Mindfulness is a scalpel that uncovers layers of habit, ingrained prejudice, denial, self-doubt, fear, anxiety and unwanted reactions. Once you’ve brought these states of mind to the surface, mindfulness remains a powerful tool. When it comes to personal change, nothing quite compares. If you’ve never done it before, it’s never too late to learn; if you’ve already begun, there are always new layers to discover. Unlike studying computers or a learning a new language, mindfulness is a life skill that makes you a better person and changes your corner of the world forever.

It all begins when you decide to give yourself the gift of looking inwards. Some people are afraid of it, as if ‘meditation’ is just for weirdos. True, spending your whole life navel-gazing would be crazy, but never doing it at all is downright unhealthy. We all need a little maintenance.

Traditionally, it’s called ‘meditation.’ The word means lots of things to lots of people. The most common description I hear is ‘emptying the mind.’ That makes sense if you think of the mind as a container, but it’s not. It’s a process — an ongoing interaction with the world of the senses and the imagination. Short of dying, there’s no way to stop the process.

What students of Quiet Mind Workshops usually want is to quieten the mind and get it under control. They find their minds chattering away endlessly whether they want it to or not, as if they have no say in the matter. It’s disconcerting. In periods of stress, as we all know, it can become truly unbearable; that’s when most people think of doing something about it.

However, despite meditation’s reputation as metaphysical and extraordinary, it’s not magic. If you want a quiet mind during periods of stress, you have to start training it during periods of calm. You’re developing a skill, like reading. It takes only a few days to master the alphabet, but understanding and enjoying a Tolstoy novel takes practice, though it’s worth it. If you think reading’s useful, meditation is even more so. It gives you focus, calm, clarity, empathy, the ability to see and change bad habits … it brings direct insight into the workings of your own mind.

Today ‘meditation’ is giving way to the term ‘mindfulness.’ It’s been around for a long time but it’s suddenly becoming accepted by doctors and research scientists. It’s now both respectable and popular. Popularity’s good, but it often blurs the full meaning.

Mindfulness is the practice of bringing your attention to what’s happening right here, right now. It’s the very opposite of the chattering mind which seems more intent on avoiding the present moment. Avoidance is the easy way to react to things we don’t like. It pretends to decrease stress, but in the long term it leads to a complete loss of mental control; as we’ve seen, that’s the worst stress of all.

Mindfulness is also the opposite of emptying your mind. It’s an activity; It requires focus, patience, energy and determination. Because of its enormous simplicity, it’s unlike any other challenge you’ve faced. Conquering great obstacles brings a sense of accomplishment, but the rewards of sitting quietly are more subtle.

The problem with the way mindfulness is discussed these days is that it’s presented as an end in itself. True, it’s a wonderful thing to be fully aware of your life as it happens — to ‘smell the roses;’ but mindfulness has much greater benefits than the pleasure of being attentive. How does it work? That the subject of Quiet Mind Workshops.

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