We show each other our selves

Some days it feels like it all comes together, like the professional ‘mask’ is aligning quite beautifully with my souls work. I LOVE how my coaching clients keep appearing and teaching more about who I want to work with. They teach me what it is I have to offer, and what it is I want to express. Sometimes I still feel like I’m ‘too much’ and that all my interests and experiences don’t fit together or make any sense…. but even just today I see a new way my experiences dovetail to offer unique support for a certain type of client.

My experiences that saw me facing the world feeling alone and anxious, my perfectionist tendencies that saw me push through challenging ‘head’ work for 15 years and suffer wave after wave of burnout, my transformation and reinvention as an art therapist and coach embracing ‘heart’ work, and now my learning as I go of running a business. I see that ALL the darkness, all the suffering contributes to the empathy I have for my clients who have experienced trauma or burnout. I see that ALL my drive and runs on the board in my old world of work means I can meet my driven, high achieving clients with insight and compassion. I see that ALL my zany hobbies and wild passions for learning and making things mean I can meet people with multiple interests with lived experience of how to give our passions time, how to celebrate our wins, and how to celebrate our multiple facets.

I see that my art therapy work helps me hold the space without fear when things go ‘deep’, and that my coaching work helps us keep looking forward and making sure dreams for the future sit at the centre of our work together.

So despite the pressure to find a niche and specialise in just one kind of client that abounds in this field, I feel more like I am a constellation of knowledge and skills and gifts that can meet clients who also have a constellation of life experience, knowledge and skills and gifts, and maybe we meet somewhere in the middle, or some of our parts mirror each others’ enough to have a useful exchange.

How I became an art therapist

Below is an excerpt from an interview I did with alternative health podcaster Sarah Kottman a few months back, addressing the question of how I became an art therapist.

Here is my answer to that question:

I became an Art Therapist because I felt really drawn to use my passion for creativity and my unflagging personal practice of art making to somehow help people.

This came to me after many, many year, almost 15 years actually, in government and sustainability policy world, so a very different type of work. Over time what I had noticed was that I felt very drawn to supporting other staff members and I really enjoyed facilitating groups and workshops and helping people come up with their own insights and find their own wisdom. I found that really, really satisfying.

I suppose over time I realized that the work I was doing though it was very stimulating on an intellectual level and kept my head very busy, there were other aspects of myself as a human being that felt quit under-stimulated through that work and I suppose, for want of a better description, heart side, the empathetic side.

I started to realize that perhaps my creativity and my sense of empathy and my ability to connect with people in an authentic way, was actually something I would like to see if I could use more often. I began to wonder if I could really use those as the foundations of new career going forward. That’s what drew me to art therapy.

In my own life, I have found therapy to be extremely helpful to me in processing past grief and wounds and family patterns. I have found it very hard work but effective in creating big shifts.

My own personal art making practice similarly got me through some difficult life situations and experiences. I had felt and seen first hand how powerful creative expression could be and I knew how deep the work of making artwork could be for healing, for coming with symbols, for accessing wisdom and insight at a different level to the day-to-day kind of thinking. It really just one thing led to another, I suppose, and drew me to study art therapy.

In addition, I’ve also gone on to study coaching with a mentor and teacher and now friend, Barbara Sher, who’s an amazing woman, very accomplished best-selling author, and some say the god-mother of life coach who first developed success teams back in the late 1960s. I was drawn to that as well.

I think those two aspects work very well together for me because on the one hand the art therapy sits much more in the symbolic and the sub-conscious and healing of emotions and past wounding and the coaching sits far more on the kind of constructive and productive, helping people work towards tangible dreams, helping people plan and prioritize and get started in the action steps that are going to take them one step after the other closer to the things that they love. They’re the two aspects that I’m holding at the moment and then I’m balancing that I offer my clients. For now it feels like a really good mix.

‘My job is boring – what should I do?’

I often hear from people who are finding their day job unfulfilling and want to know how to add more spice to their worklife. Or more specifically, how to find a new job that is more interesting / challenging/ feels more meaningful or maybe just fits them better. 

I love this question! Although the question is simple, the answer is more complex as involves some structured reflection on exactly what makes you tick. The following answers form Part A – things to do in the workplace. Part B (coming next week) looks at things to do outside work. 

Q. My job is boring – what should I do?

A. A few things!

1.Understand what boring means to you. Firstly, I suggest looking closer at the boring. Boring – I have nothing to do – boring? Boring – the decor here is drab and leaves me feeling listless – boring? Boring – I have plenty to do but it does’t stretch my skills – boring? Boring – only now that I have a new project that’s way too hard and I’m scared of starting – boring? Or boring – I just never get to learn about new things and be creative and follow my whims – boring? Each of these borings comes about for different reasons, and each of these borings can probably be tackled in a different way.

If you are feeling under-utilised, taking on new projects or work you enjoy more might help. If you feel brain-dead it could be time for some learning or following your pursuits outside of work with more oomph. If you are actually just lonely, moving where you sit, getting involved in more team projects or finding a way to make your work more collaborative could help.

2. Understand your strengths and favourite skills. Sometimes we get caught up doing what we are good at in our jobs. That is, we drift towards roles with tasks that other people think we are good at, and are happy to give us, whether we enjoy them or not. Now, every job has moments that are a stretch or boring or challenging in some other way, BUT if you find you are no longer even sure which kinds of tasks you DO like, it is probably time to revisit that.

There are various strengths and values assessments you can do online. Another way to do this is to observe yourself during your week and take note of which tasks absorb you so much you lose track of time. Or if there aren’t any of those, see which tasks light you up, you volunteer to do, or you find yourself doing when you are procrastinating. This is a good indicator of your favourite skills. You can test out this list by reflecting on past roles and seeing if there is a pattern over time of these tasks being something you enjoy. They may not be the skills that you are ‘best at’ in the office compared to every other person, or the skills that your job especially needs and rewards, but they are  the skills that you enjoy using and are likely to be pretty good at*.

3. Use your strengths and favourite skills more at work. Once you’ve discovered what types of tasks you like most in your job (eg. Filing paperwork or talking to customers? Organising events or helping new staff? Designing ads, crunching spreadsheets, sorting out tech issues or writing new text for the website?). See if you can do more of that – either by expanding that component of your current role or as a ‘special project’ or additional task.

If your workload allows it and you have the blessings of your manager consider taking on additional duties to help with a cross-departmental project or a special event. Getting involved in consultative or management committees are another way to find some extra work to do.

Knowing our strengths and playing to our strengths at work makes us happier. For example, recent research suggests that employees who used four or more of their signature strengths had more positive work experiences and work-as-a-calling than those who expressed less than four (Harzer & Ruch, 2012a). In a study of 442 employees across 39 departments in 8 organizations, a strengths-based psychological climate was linked with positive affect and work performance (van Woerkom & Meyers, 2014).

Not only will you be more satisfied if a greater proportion of your day is spent doing tasks you enjoy, but your increased get up and go will make you much more promotable / employable if you start looking at other roles.

4. Know your favourite skills and talk about them. Once you’ve figured out that you’re someone who thrives on human contact and loves bouncing ideas around with colleagues and encouraging them (and can run off that energy for the rest of the day), or that you have an uncanny knack for sales, or you are actually really good at reconciling the books… and once you’ve tested this idea by really watching your behaviour through the week, you might need to start putting words to it and letting your coworkers and manager know.

Not sure how? Try ‘I actually really love.. (your special skill)… maybe I can help the events team out one afternoon a week in June while we’re quiet here/ help the new person learn the ropes with the monthly reporting/ take minutes in that meeting/ start doing the ordering and give you more time for your other tasks..’ (etc). People aren’t always skilled at spotting our special talents or finding us work that is a great fit – sometimes we need to speak up and gently remind people of our superpowers.

5. Give yourself a shot of learning. For many of us work can begin to feel boring once we’ve stopped learning – so exactly at the time we master the role and become extremely valued employes we are in fact getting itchy feet and wondering what’s next. If this is you consider taking a course outside of work or getting the ok to attend some training at work. Explore whether you can do some professional development in a new area relevant to your role – consider technical training, communication skills, management training etc.

6. Try teaching or reviewing. In her book ‘Refuse to Choose’, my mentor, friend and coaching teacher Barbara Sher talks about the knack of learning and then teaching and then leaving if we find ourselves begetting bored at jobs quickly. It’s a great reminder a) that we don’t have to stay in a role forever and b) that teaching is a really great and satisfying way to pass on what we’ve learnt. If you find you know the job inside out I would also add that spending some time doing a review or analysis of your sector can be satisfying. What do I mean? Scale up the view from the desk and take a whole of office perspective, or a whole of industry or sector view. Maybe it’s time to write a magazine article about the opportunities for similar organisations, or speak at a conference sharing case studies from what you’ve been working on over the past 5 years, or volunteer to sit on some kind of standards or review committee. No matter what your role there are probably ways that you can share your learning of how to do your job better or share your observations and reflections on how the role/ sector/ company works (and could work better or could better respond to an emerging challenge) with a wide audience, for the benefit of many. This can provide new challenges and interest if your role is feeling stale – if like many you feel most alive when in learning mode – and also can contribute to a feeling of ‘giving back’ and meaning in your role.

* But don’t start with what you’re good at! You wont neccessarily enjoy doing everything you’re good at.

See PART B for more ideas on handling this situation – in your non work hours

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References:

Harzer, C., & Ruch, W. (2012a). When the job is a calling: The role of applying one’s signature strengths at work. Journal of Positive Psychology.

van Woerkom, M., & Meyers, M. C. (2014). My strengths count! Effects of a strengths-based psychological climate on positive affect and job performance. Human Resource Management.

40 clicks around the sun

So this week I turn 40. Naughty forty. The big four-oh. Forty is the new thirty, forty is the new black, 40 is the new… 40. And all that.

I thought it might be timely to take stock of some reflections on life, what I’ve learnt and what seems most important to me. (You know, just to summarise everything of importance, simmer it away on the stove and distill it into some sweet, spicy elixir of wisdom and truth, presented in a brief blog post – no pressure.) But then I thought about how me now and me at any other time period might not agree on what was important, or even what life was all about. Who have all these me’s been? What did it feel like at different moments?

0-3

There are dogs and birds and music and skin and beach and cake and wow, just like wow. Oh look at me my arm does stuff. Oh wow like I can move around and hey these are my legs and I can walk! I can walk! I get cuddles and get read to. Sounds, pictures, words. Smells, colours everywhere! Woah, more more more of all this stuff!  There are words! Oh right like they mean something. I can read! I can write! I can fall over and skin my knees! I can draw! I can put EVERYTHING in my mouth!

4-6

So, there is this thing called the months of the year, and apparently I have to learn then and wow they just go on and on and this is really a very big task indeed. I have friends. We play pretend. I like baking. I like to industriously pick leaves off Grandma’s flowers and feed them to next door’s chickens, a busy little project that will last for ages. I like to help this piece of sandstone wall wear away, grinding at it with a stone. I like to play outside. We run around. The teacher makes us sit on the mat. We make books about the holidays. I like my hair in plaits, and clips.

6-11

Rollerskates and riding my bike with a sparkly seat. Neighbours and climbing trees. Making perfumes out of squished flowers. Having Barbie fights. Making elaborate plays with lots of great costumes from the dress up box. Telling rude jokes. Picking that scab on my knee. Learning facts and telling anyone who will listen. Nose in a book. Picking the neighbours flowers and selling them back to them. Jumping off the cubby house roof as a game rather than playing tea parties in the cubby house. Drawing fashion designs. Dancing around the backyard to Madonna songs and pretending we are in fact performing to vast multitudes.

12-16

Why is my hair so fluffy? Why do I have a pimple? Why is everyone, like, so stupid, and yet all of this is so funny, just ridiculously funny, and you know what, I think I’ll need to talk to my friends about it all day at lunch, and then in notes in class, and then as we walk to the bus, and then on the bus, and then at home on the phone, and then in our secret messages book to give them tomorrow at school. I just have SO MUCH to say. And so much music to listen to, which you totally wouldn’t understand the IRONIC value of, and the funniness of these bands, and their CUTE-ness, and what a super dooper crush I have on that singer, and that singer, and that actor, and that boy in class, and also that one – here I’ll write you a list. And oh my gosh don’t start, oh no don’t start laughing, not now, not here, oh no I will never stop giggling and now I just snorted and now you are laughing, and oh my god!! I have my first job, just one hour a week after school. I get actual money! Cash in an envelope once a week. And yet I also have VIEWS, about ISSUES, and BOOKS and you know I’m also very smart, here read my essay and listen to me talk awkwardly in front of the room in my slightly ill-fitted on my thin frame, scratchy uniform with hair that wont stay in place, blushing.

16-25

And now I am tall and mature and men have started looking at me – even gross old guys, yuck, what do they think I could possibly want with them. I glide. I glide through the halls of school on a bubble of my own thoughts, buoyed by an intense busyness of all my hobbies and committees. I like people and I love having friends from all different groups, and backgrounds. We have intense, serious, interesting conversations. School is a rush to the finish line, a year of deadlines and complex scheduling. Now I have a weekend job, and now a second one, and they let me do things, serve people, make coffee, clock on and they actually pay me. And I’m part of a team, and we have fun and chat and even when it’s boring its still kind of interesting.  And now I’m at uni and I feel free, and romantic, and adventurous, and I am a list of my likes and dislikes, and I have mysteries, everything feels imbued with deep heavy meaningful mystery – my feelings are mysterious, the messages in music and books and films are significant beyond my knowing somehow. I write tiny little letters to tiny little pen pals, steeped with cloying rose scented mystery. I dive into love like an other-worldly mermaid into a deep cool pool of miraculous intensity. I am light, unencumbered, I drift, I have mini adventures beyond my own town. I am worldy.

Oh and the bad days start. The so sad and limp I can’t leave the house days. Conflicts and trying to make sense of patterns and the pinball like bouncing of behaviours and relationships. Complexity. Stickiness. Sadness. The shock of ‘what next’ after uni. The trying to be accepted by big important official jobs that link to my passion and mission as my confidence drains away. And grief of love lost, big heart wrenching grief that channels all the other griefs bottled up. A move. A move to another place to start a new chapter.

25-35

Big city! The thrill of the new. Kebab shops and people wearing work clothes without stockings! Trains and humidity and j-walking and staying out to the wee hours and commuting and an office job, and share houses, and relationships and most of all a big messy, dirty, trashy, sparkling spectacular city perched with all its tamed white toothed glamour, like the opera house crouched and smiling out for the cameras, above the slightly fouled water of the Harbour.

And now travel! Colours and smell and tingly exciting fear and so many people, and smells, and images and wow oh that salsa. Friends! Around the world! And kindness! And people being nice to me a wandering lost stranger.

And the thrum thoughout: who am I? Who am I? Who am I? Why am I how I am? How do I think? How do I see things? How am I feeling? Which bits of me are intrinsically me and which bits can change and have me still remain? Oh wow I have a mind watching itself, I have self-doubt, I have feelings of anxiety, I have patterns, I have preferences, I have emotions and I have a mind – how does this all work? And I start therapy! In this private sanctuary I can speak my mind, I can be heard, I can share my deepest flaws and fears and hurts… and I am OK.

And being in relationship to work. My weird codependant clingy addiction to work. My ‘sacrifice myself at the alter’ of work. My ‘I have a reason to get up because of work’ and my ‘I can’t possibly stop even if I want to because it’s so important’ relationship with work. Travel and anxiety, accomplishment and mind numbing stress, overwhelm and fatigue.

And then love, for a person: a solid, grounded, kind and ‘every day’ kind of love I realise I would like to have every single day. And home. And stability. And growing a garden together, a life together. And contentment.

35-39

And stepping up. Promotions, managing teams, supervising staff. Holy shit I’m an adult now. I’m not the young one in the team anymore. Holy shit I’m meant to know stuff – enough to teach others.

And edging away from the work I no longer see a future with (although at times I love it and am engulfed and excited by it). And towards the things I like more. Towards art. Towards a job that legitimately involves crayons and panders to my strange love of collage. Towards therapy. Towards coaching.

And more travel! Colours and smell and tingly exciting fear and airpots and so many people, and learning and feeling like a proper grown up woman doing the things that she wants. Spontaneity! Friends! Around the world! Learning! Mentors! And kindness!

Jumping knees deep into entrepreneurship (‘I can’t event spell it! how can I be one??’ I find myself wondering on incredulous days) and the highs and lows of confidence that I ride like waves in a choppy sea, and the various people positioned on life rafts and at lighthouses calling me in, guiding me in, helping to show the way.

And here. On the brink of time, right here about to begin 40 tomorrow.

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Have you ever written your life as a story? It probably changes every time you write it (mine twists in the wind showing different sides at different moments), but it can be a great tool for gaining perspective and celebrating your journey. It can be interesting to consider the change and constancy in your experience of the world over time.

We often use story and poetry in art therapy to communicate deep feelings, celebrate our strengths or to see our lives with fresh eyes.

Maybe you could write yourself as a character? Describe yourself in a poem, or create an old-style fairytale depicting your key life adventures and lessons learnt through forests and wolves, wise women, body kings, golden keys and timber boxes. Try it! Let me know how you get on.

Seeing the Forest for the Trees – Caren talks about career change

In English we have this saying ‘you can’t see the forest for the trees’ – meaning that sometimes in life we get lost in the detail and can’t see the big picture anymore, can’t piece all the little bits together to see what they make up. 

This interview is with Caren Zimmermann, a Frankfurt-based Barbara Sher trained coach who sees both the forest AND the trees: she specialises in career transitions, and helping her clients reconnect with the big picture. She also has a photography practice for her own personal enjoyment, that keeps her in touch with nature. 

—–

Hi Caren! Well it’s January now, so I guess I’ll wish you a Happy New Year and also ask you how the last month has been. How do you relax and restore ready for a new working year?
It might sound funny but I actually work between Christmas and New Year’s Eve. It is a tradition for me. I use this quiet time to clean my desk, get rid of old stuff, do filing, make room for new projects. I also start a rough plan for the next months. What do I want to achieve in different fields of my life? Family, business, own develeopment, etc. Because chances are high that during this period nobody will disturb you, a lot of things can get done and you still have time for a coffee break or a little walk. I find it a very relaxing way of working and it sets me up to start the year feeling relaxed and organised.

Let’s talk a little bit about your work as a coach. What is the single biggest issue you find your coaching clients have – and how do you help them with it?
Loss of energy! I often hear from clients “something does not feel right”. Often my clients have been dragging this akward feeling with them for quite some time. It has become heavier and heavier, used up their energy and slowed them down. We figure out together what it is that “does not feel right”.

Is it the work load, particular activities, their boss, the evironment, something in their family?

Sometimes it is their own beliefs and expectations that make it so hard for them. Depending on the source of their discomfort we find different strategies and evaluate the steps it would take to follow that path. I often act as a kind of idea volcano throwing all different kinds of ideas their way.

That is a very creative and fun process. The client finds new ways to look at things and develops new solutions.

When we find the right solution and strategy SOMETHING always changes. It might be the clients gesture, positioning, facial expression or voice. Suddenly their energy begins to come back. It’s like the heavy feeling suddenly falls away. The client regains power to shape their life and act. I love that part of the coaching process.

What do you think is the most important first step to take for anyone to achieve their goals?
Doing…instead of dreaming, hoping, pondering, wondering about the perfect plan.

Get up and get some help: maybe a coach, or at least write down things that are important for you, do some research, get to know yourself better, be creative, make a rough plan and then get going. Find other people on your path to help you. As Barbara Sher says: ‘Isolation is a dream killer’. We need help, and sometimes a little push to make our wishes come true.

What inspires you in your work?
People. Individuals. They are all so different and finding a solution for their wish can be a challenge. I like that. I also love to learn from my clients. During our talks I get a little insight into their current work field or the work field they would like to enter. During the recent coaching sessions I learnt about kindergarden management, wine tasting and the real estate market!

Some of Caren’s sweet and beguiling ‘tree face’ photos

I know you have an interest in art making for your own relaxation and expression. Can you tell us a little bit about what role art plays in your life? How does it make your life richer?
Art is always present in my life. For example I like to go to art exhibitions. Mostly art of the early 20th century. But I also the saw Jeff Koons and the Yoko Ono show here in Frankfurt.

From time to time I go to the opera house or the theatre. There is an English theatre here in Frankfurt that I regularly visit.

Art is not something I just consume. I am also active. I take photos, I paint and draw a little. In my home I have hung up some of my photos of “tree faces” and my drawings. The process of creating or discovering something new is magic. I don’t do much planning when I go out to take pictures or when I collect my drawing material. I try to be open for the opportunities that come up. There is often a good opportunity for a good picture if keep your heart and mind open.

Can you tell us a bit about your background, and how you came to be working as a coach?
I was born in the north of Germany but moved around several times before I fell in love with the Rhine-Main-Area near Frankfurt. I have a degree in European Business Administration and held positions in several departments and businesses. Recruiting and personnel management were the two constant factors during my career. My education, the broad professional experience and my thirst for new knowledge helped me to quickly feel at home in nearly every business.

In 2015 I swapped roles and now I help other people finding their career path. The people who come to me want to find the next career step, change their line of work or escape from a toxic work environment. Together we find solutions that fit their values and needs.

I also support them in the application process with updating and formulating their CVs and cover letters. If they need it, I can also provide advice later during the important first weeks of the probation period in their new job. I mainly work with clients via SKYPE. I love that with SKYPE you are not bound to your local area. My clients can choose the coach they prefer the most. It is comfortable, time saving and discreet for them.

About the interviewee

Caren Zimmermann works as a coach focusing on career development and career change. Caren works with both English-language and German-language speaking clients. As well as career development and career change, she can help people who are planning to begin working in Germany for the first time, or Germans living abroad who are planning a return to the German workforce. She can be contacted via her website  www.WunschundHindernis.de or E-Mail: wunschundhindernis@gmx.de

About the interviewer

Jade Herriman is a Barbara Sher coach and transpersonal art therapist. She works with clients to help bring more creativity into their lives, plan for their professional development, manage big life change and go after their dreams. She brings a playful, flexible and creative approach to serious issues, and draws on many years of experience working in organisation in project management, policy and research roles to bring practical solutions to her clients.

Postcards from the interior

I interviewed Michael Carnuccio about his daily creativity project.  Michael undertook a really interesting creativity project last year, where he set out to do a drawing a day, or create a picture a day, for the whole year. I’m really pleased to have interviewed him about his project and what he learnt from it.

VIDEO VERSION

I’ve shared some highlights in text form below, or you can listen to the whole interview while checking out his images on this video: here. 

NOTE: We discuss the postcard sized images in no particular order, based on what jumped out at us during the interview, and related to what story Michael was telling. Images of the postcards are dotted through the text at the point we refer to them. You can see all these images and more in the short video. Please note that there are some four letter words used in the writing below and the video, but our intent is not to offend.

PODCAST

You can also listen to the interview on podcast here if you prefer just sound.

Michael started his project on 8th January 2014 on flimsy blank index cards – regular index cards that are used as stationary. He chose to use tiny little index cards using basically whatever drawing materials he had to hand. This idea was seeded in conversations he and I had had about the Daisy Yellow project ‘Index Card a Day’, which I had heard about through Gretchen Miller’s 6 Degrees of Creativity online art group. He extended the idea and decided to try using the small, portable and ‘low pressure’ format of index cards to see if he could produce artwork everyday.

I was aiming for the whole year. So it was a bit overwhelming right at the start. I went out and bought the cards, and I guess my initial idea was just to not think it through too much when I was approaching each one…whatever came out, came out.

I pretty much didn’t go out and buy anything, so I used whatever I had at hand. A lot of the pen work is just using felt-tip that I had lying around.

Heating wars

The first few were almost autobiographical, such as ‘Heating Wars’ – about having arguments with flatmates about when the central heating should go on. So I thought I would put it down on paper as a way of somehow processing that.

And I guess if there was a theme across the whole year it was processing what I was going through. And the big thing I was processing that year was deciding if I should stay in London or if I should move back to Sydney.

River Thames and the pros and cons of living in London

So there are a lot of postcards around that theme. Some very literal, like this one of the River Thames with the pros and cons of being in London on either side.

So I was trying to use this process as a challenge; but also as a way of working through whatever was going on in the my mind. It wasn’t always about the move, sometimes it was about having a very shitty day. Or sometimes it was about doing something totally random.

And then later on, as I got more into it, I started to experiment. So, for example, some of them are quite collage-like and I also experimented a lot with using low-tack tape to mask out different areas.

Michael reflects on the different ways he approached making – sometimes quickly, sometimes processing a feeling or observing a landmark. 

Biro drawing: ‘the mouse’

This one I did really quickly, and I can remember doing it on a trip to Manchester for a work conference. I was in the hotel the night before and I was feeling really anxious. So I drew a picture of a frightened mouse, and it was really quickly done with biro.for this scribble drawing of Big Ben tower, I took a bit of time. But even then part of me was thinking “Oh, I’ve missed out on all the detail of the tower.” But then in some respects I quite like it. It’s a bit wonky, but you know, it sort of captures something. So I did a few like this of the landmarks of London as a way of remembering my time living there.

There were times when I would have a theme – whether it would be a style or a subject matter, or some sort of medium that I would use. And I would run with that for a few days and have a big burst of ideas. And at other times I would really struggle for a few days and think: “I have absolutely no idea what I am going to draw!”

Big Ben

It would often be before I went to bed that I would do them, when I tended to be quite tired and so I would have to really force myself. But I would always at least make a start on one. Even if I didn’t finish always finish it in that session I would always start.

I did this postcard when I was in transit on the way back to Sydney. I was inspired by the carpet in the terminal because it was this crazily busy mosaic of different things.

Some of the postcards are quite poignant. Like the ones I did in my last few days in London. And even when I’ve been going through them, almost a year later, they bring back those memories and feelings I was feeling at the time, so vividly. Such as this postcard from my very last day in London – I think I was actually in the terminal waiting to board the aeroplane.

This one shows carpet in the airport

Last day in London

Did you find that inner critic voice softening a little as the year went on? Or did you feel more playful in your use of materials? Was there any ‘loosening up’ that you noticed through doing it?

I think it was more of an experimentation that I noticed increasingly. I noticed more freedom in how I used materials. But I think if anything I was more deliberate in how I approached the composition and that sort of thing. If you compare them to the very first one I did, which was almost a doodle, the later postcards tended to be more detailed and thought through.

Image from 17th April

 I want to ask about this bus. Tell me about the bus. Is that the same day or two days?

They were two days apart. The neat one was first and I don’t know why I decided to redo it a second time. Maybe I felt like experimenting with that familiar form and trying to subvert it. Or perhaps I started to do it and it just didn’t turn out so I ‘decided’ to make it more abstract.

I guess it was about giving myself permission to just go for it.These postcards may never see the light of day and I guess it’s when you give yourself that freedom that you do end up with a product that you actually become quite fond of.

Image from 18th April

Obviously now you’re sharing them – in this format you have chosen some to share. What was the feeling around that? Was there any anxiety around sharing them or did that feel pleasurable?

Yes, drunk

Yeah, there was. I think with anything I share there’s always that inner critic that says: “This is rubbish. People are going to laugh at them.” Some of them were quite personal as well and you don’t know how people will react. People might not even know that side of you. I think on one of them I doodled some naked guy, and so a part of me worried about someone seeing it. One of the postcards, I remember doing when I was drunk. It was a bit of a messy one. I got liquid paper and just scrawled ‘fuckin’ drunk!’ over it, because that’s the mood I was in when I did it.

And so, obviously there are some that I’m a little reluctant to show to someone. But I felt quite excited about it as well, because it’s quite a big accomplishment, I think, doing it every single day for a year.

I want to ask you about the ‘Index Card a Day Challenge 2014, because I know that you joined in during the month of June and July 2014. What was that like?

I think what I really noticed was becoming increasingly preoccupied by what somebody else might think of my work as I would post each day to the Facebook group. And so knowing it was definitely going to be seen I did notice myself putting a lot more thought into the outcome, or being extra critical about the outcome. Or if one day I did something really good that I was proud of (like this elephant), and the next day not so good – or having that pressure that I had to live up to it – I guess that created more anxieties.

What I found really helpful about that process was there was a theme or a prompt every day, really helped with deciding what I was going to create that day.Sometimes it was a challenge because you could think about multiple ways of doing it, or it was like: “err, how am I going to draw that, or how am I going to do that?” But at least it would sort of solve the question that I would sometimes have: “I have no idea what I am going to do!” And having just this blank page in front of you, even though it was only a postcard size, it was like: “I’m tired and I have to put something on this! Do it now so I can go to bed!”

Pink elephant

One other thing I was interested in was the fact that in sharing on that Facebook forum people are going to see and actually respond to the work. So was that a relatively new experience? What did that feel like, and what kind of comments did you get?

 Apart from the odd class I’ve done here and there, I’ve not had much feedback from people. So that was great, because I got a lot of good feedback. And also what I found useful was seeing how other people approached the prompts, and the huge variety of interpretations was amazing.

So getting that positive feedback was awfully reaffirming and, I think, gave me more confidence. But then the flip side to that is the days you didn’t get any feedback or you didn’t get as many likes….[laughs]  …or you saw someone else, “Oh, they’ve got ten times more likes than I have!” Again, the inner critic: “Well, yours must be shit by comparison!”

Obviously it wasn’t the process itself that created that critique, it was already inside me. But that daily practice made it more visible to me, I guess, which is a helpful aspect of going through that process and trying to see what your feelings are about yourself, because it is all reflected back at me whenever I look at these postcards.

And so what did you learn about yourself, do you think, through doing this process? Did any of the images show you something that you were surprised to see, or did you see any symbols coming over and over again?

There was a lot. I guess it’s because also, as I said, I was  thinking through a big life change at the time. So a lot of it was being introspective about who I am and where I was going. There’s this one postcard I did when I was feeling particularly confused about who I was; and so I drew an arrow trying to get to a defined point representing clarity. I guess it was more of an aspiration.

Who am I? Where am I going?

Or I would focus on really random questions and abstract ideas about identity. And I think it was me trying to search for answers. For example this one literally depicts not quite knowing what’s around the corner.

What’s around the corner?

And also I never really found that I had one distinct style either. I don’t know if that’s necessary a bad thing. It was, you know, an opportunity to experiment. But I guess I didn’t really feel like: “Ooh yes, that’s my style! I found it!” through this process.

But trying to overcome that inner critic was possibly the biggest challenge of the whole process – that voice that kept saying: ”This is rubbish! This is no good!” And trying to work through that and …explore where that was coming from. So it was a good prompt and a good tool and medium to use to assist with that.

Talking about that voice of the inner critic, I’m wondering did you learn or develop any tricks or methods of shooshing it for a minute, working around it, side-stepping it, or making friends with that kind of voice? Any particular techniques to lessen the volume?

I think persistence really helped. Knowing that I had to do it for 365 days, if you let that critique get to you it’s going to make that process very difficult. And also telling myself, it was just an exercise, it’s not going to be exhibited at a gallery, it doesn’t matter if it’s shit – it’s an opportunity to just be creative and use a different part of my brain. And yeah, I guess I did come to accept that I will have good days and I will have bad days and that’s OK. I guess the bad days in a way lead to the good ones, because you learn from what goes wrong, or what goes right.

Wings

And you talked about that sense of accomplishment at coming to the end of the project. I’m wondering has doing this shifted the way you see yourself at all?

I think I see myself now as a creative person…And I guess, accepting that more than I perhaps did before…Dare I say, even as an artist.That’s been quite good.

And also being proud that I actually managed to do it… Just having kept it up for so long, you know, I’m proud of myself, and that’s something nice to think about.

And also to know that’s a year of my life in this collection.

I think it also helped me work in my day job, because you have the opportunity to think differently and process things. And the next day you find you’ve got all these ideas! I don’t know if the two are related, but I’d like to think that they were.

So yeah, I think I would definitely recommend it to anyone. They don’t necessarily have to do it for a whole year…or even consider themselves artistic. Just spending that time to think a little differently, and think visually, and putting that onto paper – whatever comes out, comes out.

About the interviewee:

Michael is an urban planner and public policy specialist currently working in the government sector. The visual arts, crafts and design has been a life-long passion for Michael, who’s creative skills are largely self taught. From drawing as a boy to doodling in meetings as an adult, Michael relishes opportunities to imbue his daily life with creativity, exploration and visual expression, drawing on his experiences both a home and abroad. He is also a qualified yoga teacher and freelances as a graphic designer when the opportunity strikes.

About the interviewer:

Jade is a transpersonal art therapist and coach who also has her own active arts practice. She draws on over 15 years experience working in teams within diverse organisations as a sustainability professional, researcher and facilitator. Jade integrates the principles of client centered counseling and group facilitation with art therapy processes, Barbara Sher Life Coaching methods and her own experience of creative practice. She runs art therapy and coaching workshops within organisations and for the general public; and works with individual clients face to face and by Skype.

“Patience you must have” *

The impatience of the seedling

The seed waits under the cover of darkness, with no face upwards into the sun.

The seed can hear the whispers of other plants, fully grown, plants with strong roots and stalks rising high, plants with leaves, fruit, flowers, nuts – things the seed has a distant memory of, as if from another life, but has not seen or touched itself. The seed can feel the excitement of these fully established plants all around her, their chatter in the breeze, their standing tall in rain, their twists and turns in a strong breeze. Seed feels lonely and like it is missing out. Is it less than these neighbours? Is it destined to stay small and hidden, bound, and compressed? Is there more to life than this? It feels a stirring deep inside, a movement and a pull towards growth, but still it doubts, still it wishes.

Seed cries its loneliness, its frustrated hopes, its envy, its self doubt, and the sky cries, and the water leaks down through the clods of soil and keeps her swaddled in a wetness of compassion.

And then the next day the husk splits. In shock seed thinks she is now well and truly broken, beyond mending, never to be the same.

Then, tiny sprout, some green emerges.

œ œ œ

What does the gardener say?

Two years ago I spotted this tiny seedling in my garden. It was a little plant with just a couple of leaves. I looked at it, wondering what it might be. It looked interesting, like nothing I had ever seen before.

So I kept the area around it clear from weeds for the plant to get enough light. I had to protect it from gnawing snails. Sometimes it needed a little extra water and fertilizer. I took photos so that I could see how it grows.

I took good care of it and for the rest of the time? Well, I just had to wait for nature to do its job. Like I always do. Of course I was not lazy, I was busy tending to the rest of the garden.

And over time the little seedling developed into something beautiful with very special leaves in an almost sparkling green. I’m so happy that I discovered it and I wonder where it came from. It is not clear yet, what the flowers or fruit will look like as it is still a young plant. But I think I will soon enough know, as I saw some little buds on it today.

œ œ œ

It’s one of the more difficult lessons to learn in a change process: It takes its time. It takes exactly the time it needs. No longer, no shorter. We are not good at estimating durations anyway, so how much worse are we actually when it comes to things we’ve never done before?

Sometimes we may feel like the tiny seedling. But maybe we are actually more like the gardener: observing and taking care of our growth. Asking what is needed, nourishing and protecting the process.

It’s about trust in the process and patience. The good thing is: if you learn to develop them now then they will stay with you. You will be glad to have them on your side with their full potential for future challenges.

Try to be not too busy to miss the magic of a new beginning. Try to be aware of what is going on right now.

Consider whether you need company in the process – a coach, a friend to check in with, some books by people who have made the change you are making.

Enjoy doing things for the very first time! Document your “firsts” and the small starts.
Write down how you feel about it. These are the things you’ll want to remember later on.

Celebrate the successes.

At some point you might even enjoy the transition and how it feels to grow!

Some questions for you:

œ How long did your grain of seed wait before it started to sprout?

œ When did you see the first leaves? How many leaves are there now?

œ Is the ground well-prepared? Are all the necessary nutrients there and enough water?

œ Are there snails gnawing at the leaves? How can you discourage the snails or make yourself more resilient to their nibbles?

œ How about the roots? Are they OK? Deep enough? Getting what they need to support growth?

œ How’s the rest of the garden doing? How about the other flower beds you’ve planted longer ago? Are you tending to them as well? Do some need to be replanted?

* “Patience you must have young Skywalker.” (Yoda)

About

This blog post is inspired by a conversation Claudia Scheidemann and I had a couple of days ago, and written by us both. We talked about how slow our progress feels and how long our to-do lists still are. So if we two fledgling coaches feel this way, maybe there are others, too? We decided to both go away and write about it to look a bit deeper into it. We wrote separately and then spliced our pieces together – they fit like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. What then came is another example of how something beautiful can happen out of spontaneity and collaboration.

About Claudia:
I met Claudia in November of last year when we started our coaching training with Barbara Sher in Frankfurt together. Claudia seemed serious at first, but once I got to know her better I learnt there was a wild swing-dancing, colour-loving, intuitive painting, improvisational theatre fan with a great sense of humour and spadefuls of compassion and insight. She has been a generous and compassionate coach for people I know, and they sing her praises, saying ‘she always knows just what questions to ask’.

I’m delighted to work together with her and have her as a collaborative author on this blog today.
Find out more about her work here: www.colourfulcoaching.wordpress.com

Snot, tears and breaking up from your job

Some changes come swiftly and with their own momentum, and you wonder how the new wasn’t there before it feels so right and familiar. And some changes come kicking and screaming and hanging on to the door jam as you try to coax them through.

Career transition has felt like the kicking and screaming kind for me.

As I sat on the threshold of leaving my solid, challenging, rewarding, stressful, ‘important’, clever and yes, well paid, job I found I could easily switch from coaxer to stubborn mule stay-put-er in a  moment. Even as the ‘me’ who longed for something new and who worked towards that something new began to dream that something new could be possible, when I switched perspectives and imagined actually cutting the ties, I felt bereft. Strong, confusing feelings would surface, in a primal pre verbal way. And they would be accompanied by tears, snot and some sobbing for good measure.

What were these feelings? Grief and sadness to be sure. Grief at the saying goodbye to an old identity, sadness and longing for the old half-dreamt dreams which now would not come to fruition within that role, grief at saying goodbye to a community, a familiarity and stability.

There was a tiny bit of regret and guilt for letting people down, but mostly I had felt and exhausted that one previously, when choosing to take leave for a period of time to recover my energy and consider change. By now I knew that they could do without me, and they were getting on fine.

The something deeper, as I dug around asking ‘What is this? Why am I feeling so upset?’, emerged as the feeling that I had failed. Strong grief and some shame at the idea that I had not managed to make work something that I could enjoy as much as others seemed to. I felt like I was somehow not good enough – had not tried hard enough, was not resilient enough, was not resourceful enough – to take on the challenge of my job and find a way to make it work and to thrive within it. I had failed. I was a failure.

The paradox was that this thing I felt I had failed at was something I no longer wanted to do. I had done enough work with a good therapist to see that I was wanting a fairly significant shift in my relationship to work, to creativity, to stress, and to productivity. I could see that almost 10 years of trying different ways within my role hadn’t created the lasting shifts I was hoping for. In addition, what I cared most about, what I was excited about learning, and my understanding of what I felt ‘drawn’ to do had changed over the years. I could see that this role didn’t light up my interest anymore or feel like a way of working that was compatible with maintaining good health, for me.

But despite this, the litany of failures ran on in my mind:  ‘failure to manage your stress, failure to endure, failure to make it work, failure to be a normal person, failure to be efficient and productive, failure to excel, failure to put aside your personal issues to do something for the good of the world, failure to be spectacular, failure to be respectable and admired, failure to be glossy and shiny and professional’. Imagine this litany accompanied by bass notes of sniffs and chorus of keening.

Never mind that for almost 15 years in my particular field I had done OK for myself: contributed to valued work, helped others, been promoted, been praised for what I had done. Never mind that I was leaving entirely of my own volition, after years of hard work and a list of projects so long it made my eyes hurt. Still I felt like a failure.

On the one hand, work I no longer wanted to do: that I was burntout from doing, that I was bored and stressed doing, that caused me bodily and emotional pain, but somehow kept the inner gatekeeper happy, satisfied that I was a valuable member of society and was worthwhile.

On the other hand, the great unknown: pursuing my interests (unstable fluttering interests that made no promises to stick around), stepping out into a new tribe that I wasn’t wholly sure would accept me, hoping for pieces of work that I wasn’t sure would come or that I would be good at.

It felt like:

Stability versus the fear of chaos.

Established versus beginner.

‘Worthy’ versus ‘self indulgent’.

‘Distinguished’ versus ‘dabbling’.

Credible versus ‘on whose authority?’

On the Heroes Journey map in art therapy we talk about the ‘medicine’ that can be found right in the deepest darkest moments of our descent into the unknowing. That here, as we sit in the pit, the nadir, we need to experience the metaphoric death of a part of ourselves (for example the leaving behind or changing of a mask, a way of acting, a way of seeing the world) and grieve that loss, and at the same time recognise that loss can be the medicine that helps us move up and out of this dark place and returns us stronger, more whole, and more authentically ourselves.

For me, I knew that next to this absolute fear of change, and the grief and feeling of loss at stepping out of this role and identity, would be my medicine.

Who am I without this thing I cling to?

What remains?

What do I see about myself when I see I can exist without this part of my identity?

What judgements about myself do I need to gently release to be able to move forward?

These weren’t easy questions. This wasn’t an easy time.

I had said yes to the new, but was not yet ready to say no to the old. I was carrying them both within me. It took time (months). And more time (months). And more tears, and a bit more uncertainty before I was ready to take the final step in the transition.

It also took love and support from people close to me, a cheer squad of fellow coaching students, and taking big tangible steps to follow through on building a new professional identity to feel confident enough that there would be something waiting for me on the other side if I did the unthinkable and left my old field.

Having come through the other side of this now, recent enough that these feelings haven’t faded in my memory, I know that I have learned a powerful and visceral lesson through experiencing this change. I now understand down to my very bones (in a way I didn’t before) that big life transitions that people struggle with are complex and have subterranean elements involving dreams for the future, family stories, personal identity, social identity, a struggle between hope and fear, grief and loss for the old, safety and security, and much more.

While it was happening I was very aware of the caterpillar-butterfly metaphor, and in particular the messy part in the middle where inside the cocoon the caterpillar disintegrates into cells and is a caterpillar-y soup before it is reformed back into butterfly. I kept thinking ‘am I still in soup stage? Have I grown my wings yet?’. That image helped me understand the feeling of unfamiliarity in the mist of change, and the inability to move, the need to be curled up safely while this change is taking place at the deepest most fundamental levels of ourselves.

Now that it has happened and some time has passed, I think more of a bridge in a mythical landscape. I see myself standing in a place where I once wanted to be but have grown tired of, looking out across dark waters and a rickety bridge to a slightly hazy and indistinct future me. The future me waves and a slight smile sits gently. She looks calm. To get there and become that version of myself I have to  somehow make it across the bridge, even though I am scared and feel like I will die to cross it, and I can’t even know 100% if the vision of myself over there is real or a mirage. I stand there wondering, ‘will I stay where I am and be safe, or will I go over the bridge even though the drop to the waters below terrifies me?’

And now maybe my gift from the other side, as well as a new landscape to explore and that gentle smile that comes from having honoured my own wishes,  is the powerful deep empathy for others exploring change. In therapy and coaching I will forever be attuned to these big symbolic changes, that can look straightforward or even mundane to the outside observer, but that take such courage, support and sometimes just time, for the person making them.