I’m Listening and Coaching in Deeper Ways. (The ICF might love it)
Two weeks ago, I coached in ways that will stay with me forever. The call took place literally minutes after publishing my essay on why I still fall out of coaching mastery, despite thousands of coaching calls and beaucoup attempts to move from professional coaching to masterful. (Might writing have unblocked my stubborn mind? If so, Amen to writing coaching!)
In this particular session, (which I’ve podcasted on here) I felt deeply connected with my coachee. And she to me. I slowed things down. As did she. I poured in very little. In fact, I only asked questions. I mirrored back. I got deeply curious. I noticed a lot, like laughter when speaking to things she said were hard. In that moment, I didn’t try to change. I didn’t try to mold. I did notice the inconsistency though. And she noticed it too. Then we both laughed or explored more on what we noticed together.
We experienced joy. We felt abandonment. We pondered. We considered. Any tangent came back to her and what she wanted and needed. The entire call, all 38 minutes and 25 seconds of it, focused on what she wanted and needed at that time. Not what I needed at all.
I know always to coach the person, not the problem. This is a core coaching premise the International Coaching Federation often touts to its 42,000+ certified coaches. It’s even the title of a new fabulous book Marcia Reynolds, a famed coach, recently authored, and one I just purchased.
In this session, I wholly coached the person vs their problem (and in more devoted ways than before). The solutions that came to my dear coachee in this laser-focused, deeply slowed-down coaching flow state felt extraordinary. She became so empowered. For seven minutes she had the answers. She revealed the blockers — and then just went for it, reaching high, seeing what she had to do. Nothing got in her way.
For the first time after five years of coaching, I did not pour in nor offer even one solution. (Not one!) I felt no need. Anything I came up with would have felt ridiculous. Redundant. Not pure. Her perfect solutions resembled her perfect truth.
All I did was encourage that clarity with simple, short questions on accountability and follow ups, like “what else?” or “when will you do that?” and “who or what will help?” These pithy prods revealed more power and action steps. The problem that began our coaching call, she resolved. And I spoke no more than 10% of the time. Amazing. Deep. Joyous. Afterwards, we both felt surprised with the potency and uniqueness of what occurred. I was moved to tears.
When my coachee asked after my tears and what they said, I had to think. “Relief. Pride. And happiness,” I decided. Happiness for her, that she had such powerful insights and breakthroughs which empowered her. (Within hours of our call, she took big, powerful steps towards building her business. And she now starts every day doing something bold and creative.) Relief for me, that I had the skills now as a coach and deep, active devoted listener to invite that achievement. Pride for what we’d both accomplished.
I’ve felt this deep, coaching flow state in previous calls — and to some extent, in every call as I’ve trained and coached at scale. This call was the first time I experienced the deep flow in the beginning, the middle, and even the end.
And because this is the first recorded coaching call I have felt deep, slowed down coaching for its entirety, I believe I have (after mentoring with my MCC Coach Ben Dooley, who listened and loved it with me) I have one of the two contending calls to submit the International Coaching Federation. (For their review.) From this, they can evaluate me as a Master Certified Coach. Victory or not, I’ve reached a new level in presence and active listening as I coach. Even if they say “no” vs. “yes,” nobody can take this learning from me.
For my learnings, and maybe for yours if (like me) you’re committed to listening better and coaching and leading in a more anchored way, I’m musing some more on how I got there (in the deep coaching flow, I mean). And how it felt, which truly was emotional and beautiful connecting with another human being that way. I’ll never forget this moment. I will reflect upon it and its meaning and significance often.
Three things helped me anchor that day:
- Declutter my space and my time. I removed all other calls but this one.
- Sing and meditate prior. I sang a lot for minutes leading up to this call, belting out the New Zealand national anthem and Royel Otis’ sweet rendition of Cranberry’s Linger. This brought me joy and calm. I also did a grounding activity (PQ reps) using one sense at a time to get out of my mind and into my body.
- Have my prompts laid out. From my earlier essay and having listened to enough not-so-great coaching calls, I knew my core blind spots and designed short visual prompts to keep me solid: “Ask One Question.” “Slow Down.” “Hold My Coachee As Capable, Competent and Resourceful.” I laid out these prompts to help me remember. And I did.
A mindset shift also took place for me to reach and stay within my coaching flow. My biggest struggle as a coach ties to unhelpful, directive communication approaches and styles learned from my earlier careers as consultant, professor, and global business reporter for the Economist, FT of London, and the Guardian. All three professions rely on my strengths: Storytelling. Brevity. Ideation. A recent Clifton StrengthsFinder survey I conducted with a peer coach had ideation as my number one skill (even more than positivity and activation). Which surprised me, but also clarified why I struggle as an active listener to hold back from sharing my ideas.
Deep active listening and those written prompts I mentioned helped me tame my mind. Positivity and optimism and trust took over ideation and activation. I felt deeply optimistic for my client’s present and future and connected with her thoughts, realities, and how she expressed them to us both.
Doing so, helped me say far less. I stayed more present. I trusted the process. I got supremely comfortable with silence. I felt amazed (listening to the call with Coach Ben) I stayed silent, awaiting a response for one question, for close to one minute!
I asked: “Where does she want to start?” She did not know. Therefore, she stayed silent as she pondered.
When not in deep coaching flow, when not listening well, I’d jump in with options. This time, I did not. Why? Because from listening this deeply, I knew and remembered her purpose and mine: This is her problem we’re here to explore. Not mine. This is her Discovery. Not mine. I am in the woods with my coachee on this self-discovery. She is the tour guide. Not I.
So when she eventually decided where and how to start, I felt confident we knew the path was the right one, because she named it as such. I just followed along.
I did some other tactical things well to listen at that deeper, more joyous and impactful level and will continue now on this path. I know I framed things well and in more detailed ways at the front end. I know I worried less about needing to know everything, which curtailed me from asking senseless, fluffy questions leading no where. These more tactical prompts I’ll offer in future writings on mastering this delightful, deceptively powerful craft of active listening.
In this essay, I want to continue exploring how listening so deeply felt on an emotional and spiritual level, and how it helped build in my client such powerful results.
Musing some more… I can say that to outsiders, active listening might seem flimsy, new age, too much emotional intelligence. Having experienced this so deeply and first hand, I’d say the exact opposite. Listening deeply is potent. It’s spacious. Big ideas, changed perspectives, and decisions will result.
Also, deep active listening, and trusting the coaching process, has a compounding effect. You may start off with a slightly roaming mind and old tendencies to listen how most of us listen… waiting for our turn to speak; looking for ways to solve.
But when you lock in, listen, and focus wholly on your coachee, feelings of calm, peace, and harmony flood us. I felt compassion for my client, and for me. I gave myself grace when and if I spoke over her vs. beating myself up for stepping on her toes. (They were still fine after all. Nothing broke.) By staying kind to myself, I managed my inner critical Saboteur-driven perfectionistic and hyper-performance driven mind. My Sage prevailed. And she helped me focus and listen better and better.
This is an essay of triumph and exploration. But I’d be remiss in not mentioning I’m slightly dejected that I haven’t met my earlier publicly pledged promise in my Competency No 5 podcast to submit my application to the ICF for my MCC certification on Lunar New Year’s day. I would have done with this triumphant recording call; but alas, I read the guide late and realized I need two recordings not one. But that’s ok. I know what to do now. I know what it feels like. I have seen what results. And having reached a breakthrough with my listening and coaching skills, I can recreate the magic for my coachees from here on and claim one of those calls as the second to offer my evaluators.
To help me stay on course, I’m anchoring on how it feels to have listened in such a beautiful way, which reminded me of the freedom and exploration from my youth. As a young New Zealander living in the wilderness of South Canterbury, I often roamed the hills on my father’s farm and in a valley a few miles away where I later lived with my mum and sister. The light danced over these hills in stunning, gentle ways. I gained a hiker’s high from the exertion as some were steep. I stopped and paused often to notice the cows, bunnies, mice, or sheep and lambs nearby.
I’d roam the hills so I could see far out to the Pacific Ocean, and to reach the woods. There, I’d spend hours making huts or cafes with logs of wood for tables and stools, and abandoned sacks from forgotten sheep shearing sheds. I’d salvage and rinse off blue bottles in streams. And I’d gather wild flowers to put in them.
This inventive play felt freeing. And listening to my dear coachee, wandering with her in her own woodlands and mind, felt freeing too — and a little adventurous. We had no map on where the conversation might take us. Freedom comes from caring nothing about ourselves and wholly about another. Honor, gratitude, and triumph comes from someone trusting us enough to invite us. Long may I listen this way so I feel this meaning and can share it with others. This is my truth. This is my life purpose.
Debbi Gardiner McCullough has reinvented three times across three continents and three industries, most recently leaving academia after 19 years of service to train to become a coach. From Wisconsin, she owns and runs Hanging Rock Coaching and serves as a communications coach to leaders all over the globe.