Shae Hadden

Shae Hadden

Doing what the world needs

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What are you focusing on this year? What you want from the world—or what the world needs of you?

Many of us make resolutions or intentions that move us towards what we like and away from what we dislike. We aim for more money. More fame. More power. Or perhaps better health and better relationships. Some of us are inspired by a life with less stress, less struggle, less scarcity. Some people prefer to help others experience some specific “more”, “better”, or “less”. 

Do not do what you like—do what the world needs. Doing what you like is not freedom. Likes and dislikes are compulsive.
—Sadhguru

For me, last year was about finishing my book on coaching. What motivated me was observing that some of the leaders I was in conversation with didn’t really “get” the possibility of coaching. They had listened to others talk and write “about” coaching techniques and styles and approaches. But they still had no sense of what being coached was like or what it could be. They didn’t know what they needed to know to even begin to consider whether it might be valuable to them and their organizations.

book coverI felt drawn to write something that would help them see coaching from many perspectives. From the perspectives of all kinds of coaches. From the perspectives of coachees who, like them, have approached coaching with questions, hesitations, and doubts. And from my perspective as a coach and coachee.

The Blue Pearl went live on Amazon a couple of days ago. It will, I hope, help people make informed choices for themselves about whether coaching is for them at this time. And also reflect back to coaches what mastery looks like in their work.

I feel exuberant at finishing the work of producing a book.

And now another adventure begins: the exploration of what the world (and perhaps the book) needs of me next.

Stay tuned…

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Image from qimono on Pixabay

What’s Possible with “No”?

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Someone mentioned to me in an interview this week that “No” can shut down the future almost as fast as it’s spoken. Their belief: that the word throws up a roadblock to stop things from happening. And that the roadblock can close the door on any conversation or relationship.

We were talking about getting people with different perspectives to collaborate. In that context, “No” may signal that the person is attached to their position or that they’re unwilling to try on other perspectives. Or it can signal the establishment of a boundary—a protective position to keep others out, to create the space they need to feel safe, to avoid being harmed again. The boundary can help them regain some sense of control in a challenging situation. Whatever the reasoning behind the response, it is not for us to judge. But it’s up to us to deal with it.

So where does “No” leave us?

Indeed, what’s possible when someone throws up a roadblock?

When I was a kid, I’d create all kinds of ways to deal with being turned down—from crying and temper tantrums to complaining to someone else or asking another adult for the same thing. I’d create and invent and try out all kinds of ways to get to a “Yes”. Sometimes I’d just learn to live with the “No” until something else came along that I wanted just as much. But over time, after repeatedly not getting what I wanted, I learned to avoid rejection by either not asking for what I wanted or by giving up and shutting down at the first hint of a negative response. “No” became “no way, no how, not ever.”

As adults, we don’t have to go there. “No” can mean “not now” or “not you” or “not this way”. We can honor and respect each other by clarifying what is meant and then gracefully accepting the “No”. Even if, to us, the response seems irrational or unwarranted. Even if rejection hurts.

I don’t think “No” necessarily kills the future. It may kill one possible future. But not all possible futures. “No” is just a choice. A choice that gives us access to the possibility of other possibilities. Access to people, ideas and things we don’t even see when we’re focused on getting to “Yes” with just one possibility.

So, in this somewhat strange way, I’m grateful for what “No” makes possible. Even though I can’t be certain what those possibilities might be.

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Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Wabi-Sabi Season

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cracked jug_McpheeI think we’ve hit wabi-sabi season. The season to practice honoring and accepting the natural cycle of growth, decay and death. The time for a simple, uncluttered paring down to essentials. A time to find beauty in imperfection.

I feel like everything in my life is being pared down, and then pared down again. Inessential things seem to be falling away: possessions, fantasies, beliefs. What no longer resonates is dropping away. Even the net we all long to find underneath us is disappearing.

I’m coming face to face with my soul.

I look in the mirror and see the eyes of a sweet little blue-eyed girl staring back at me with the sad wisdom of a grown woman. I want to love what I see: the sun glinting copper on greying curls, the frayed edge of a favorite sweater, the smile wrinkles, and the collar hiding a Katherine Hepburn-like neck. I want to believe that there’s a quiet kind of beauty—a field of gold—in each of us just waiting to be discovered.

But Wabi-sabi season comes with not-so-welcome storms of tears.

The unfulfilled hopes of that little girl cry out to me. I’m suddenly grieving a haunted heart. Mourning the passage of time and unlived possibilities. Grieving who I am no longer. Crying out because this body I call mine is impermanent and will one day return to dust. Grieving for the state of the world.

In between cloudbursts, I talk with my coaches. And catch glimpses of that field of gold.

In the midst of this letting go, I’m beginning to see the beauty of cracks and imperfections. I’m beginning to discover the beauty of the soul.

Meanwhile, what remains in my life I care for with fresh precision and appreciation now—especially trusted relationships with coaches, friends and colleagues.

I wonder what will come after wabi-sabi….

Photo credit: Flickr Nick McPhee

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Thinking Together

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dialogue bubblesWorking with coaches has given me amazing opportunities to experience what it is to think together. Not the same as talking together. Or listening deeply to each other. The conversations we have seem more like pioneering adventures than agenda-driven talks. And yet, we somehow accomplish all—if not more—than we intend to. Fresh insights appear, new ideas, synchronistic experiences.

In our dialogues, we suspend the idea that either of us are our point of view … and then we listen and look together at what is happening and what’s wanting to emerge. The quality of the conversation feels in some moments like lasers cutting through layers of mud: in others, like water running swiftly through a narrowing channel. Sometimes words tumble out in a rush: sometimes they emerge like popcorn on a burner, slowly at first, then speeding up in pace and number. Sometimes notable silences punctuate our thinking.

In the last two weeks, I’ve observed more and more of these ‘thinking together’ conversations happening with people besides my coaches. Coincidentally, at about the same time, I changed my email signature to include this quote:

The biggest sources of opportunity are collaboration and partnership.”
Mark Parker, CEO, Nike

I wonder which of these new conversations will actually turn into opportunities for collaboration.

Stay tuned…

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Photo credit: Flickr AJ Cann

Finding Your Voice

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Every once in a while, someone will ask me about how to find their voice. That elusive quality in their communications that would have people say, “Now that sounds like you!”. My short answer: “The voice is the soul in motion.”

That usually pulls them up short. Then I share more.

As a baby, I discovered my voice by just opening my mouth and letting loose with whatever sounds emerged. No searching required. My voice was as natural as breathing. But as an adult, my mind complicates everything. I can so easily disconnect from any organic impulse to express myself in my attempts to be responsible, to take everything into account, to look good when I communicate.

Finding my voice as an adult hasn’t been easy.

Consciously putting my self out there. In the world. For everyone to see. It feels like the most intimate and vulnerable thing I may do in this life. My personal ongoing test of courage.

When I studied singing as a young adult, I’d get hung up with breathing and wanting to master the physiological processes involved with making sound. I wanted to understand what’s happening. All that thinking got in the way of connecting with the natural rhythm and ease of my baby self. I didn’t find my ‘sound’ in my first year of studying singing. Or the second, or the fifth. I eventually gave up the idea of having a professional career as a singer. Throwing caution to the winds recently, I tried singing gospel…and discovered once again how easy it is to just breathe, open up and let sound flow through me.

When I first started writing this book, I would sit with my thoughts for long periods of time, thinking and rethinking what I wanted to say and how I wanted to say it. I wanted to be clear and thorough. I wanted to see myself as a brilliant thinking being. I’d grade myself on how well I captured my thinking in writing. All that thinking about my thinking got in the way of the natural flow of my thoughts. I choked on my writing. Until I shifted my focus onto just breathing and allowing the thoughts that wanted to flow through me to show up on the page.

Perhaps not surprisingly, it feels so much easier now to speak my truth in conversations than even a few months ago.

So be patient with yourself. And steadfast in your commitment to express yourself—straight up.

“The voice is the muscle of the soul.”
Roy Hart

In the end, your soul will have it no other way.

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Photo credit: Flickr, Steve Alexander.

What Stops You from Writing?

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stop signAs much as we want to write, sometimes we covertly work against ourselves. I’m not talking about writer’s block. I’m talking about attracting circumstances that test our commitment, our resolve, our ability to persevere.

Of course, I have to keep a roof over my head, food on the table, clothes on my back. I do what must be done to be responsible for my own health and well-being. I’m not interested in playing out the starving artist in the garret story. Anything I create will never be more important than my wellbeing—for if I’m not well, I cannot create or be responsible for sharing my creations with the world. Thinking this way, I could let self-responsibility take full priority in my life, and let the book slide.

Yet, I feel a responsibility for this book I’m creating as well. I cannot NOT complete it.

I’ve been working full out to be responsible for both myself and the book for over a year. And this past week, I’ve been forced to stop.

A car accident and the flu simultaneously.

As I’ve been focused on healing and recovering for the past few days, I find it really hard not to do a guilt trip on myself. Maybe I should have taken better care of my immune system. Maybe I should have listened to that intuition that said to not take that particular trip in the car that day. Maybe I should have stayed home and kept writing. But guilt about not writing for the past 8 days and about the choices that didn’t end the way I would have liked doesn’t get me anywhere. In fact, it’s not just my circumstances stopping me from starting back again…even if just for a few minutes at a time. It’s having given my power away to the guilt.

So I’m letting go of making myself feel bad. I’m letting go of expectations about how long and by when I’m going to finish rewriting the book. And I’m letting go of the idea that finishing the book is the last thing I have to do before I die.

I don’t need to die for this book. And I don’t need to die when it’s finished.

I will die. But God willing, not now.

Writing this blog brings me back to how easy it is to be a writer. Just putting aside whatever thinking it was that stopped me from being in action without expectation…and writing.

This feels radical.

What thinking are you hanging onto that’s stopping you from writing?

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Photo credit: Flickr – thecrazyfilmgirl