Weeknotes #34: The Small Work
You are reading ‘Like person, like coach’: explorations at the intersection of personal narrative and coaching practice:
‘Love and a cough cannot be concealed,
Even a small cough
Even a small love.
- Anne Sexton
It’s been a few years now since I’ve shifted careers from design to coaching. I’ve since been invited on a couple of podcasts and for the longest time I hoped some of these conversations would get lost in hidden corners of the internet. But I was recently prompted by my latest episode recording with Tim Mart of Know You More to start showcasing my work. It was a wonderful experience - we talked about identity and leadership and my journey to becoming a coach and you can take a sneak peek here.
This brings me to what I wanted to write about this week: the small work. Most often, the work that is asked of us looks and feels, for the most part, uneventful. I often say to my therapist: ‘But we’ve been here before.’ And she just looks back at me. For the longest time, I expected change to happen in fell swoops and to come with shiny accolades and enlightenment. But the work is very small.
As small as: ‘Oh, the other day I shared with someone how I actually felt.’ One sentence in a 1-minute conversation.
I’m starting to get used with small work. With being a bundle of unfinished projects. There’s something in small moments that makes me feel closer to life - and perhaps that’s why it scares me. Working at small scale, slowind down enough to see ‘small’ literally feels like too much life, and of course, too much connection to its finitude.
I keep a ‘Thank you’ note from an old client on my desk. It’s purple, written in sparkly ink and with little stars drawn on it. Somehow, this small gesture feels momentous.
Across the first few months of 2024 I’ve navigated an odd kind of grief. We often talk about how much our fear of letting go of the past stops us from growing. And even though it might feel uncanny - what if in feeling into the loss of the past we actually regained it? In its full wholeness. They also say that when we numb ourselves to difficult emotions, we numb ourselves to joy. This reminds me of Jessica Dore’s ‘The Dirt-Work of the Heart’ and her invitation to place our attention not only on the grief itself but how we choose to carry it.
What a small huge act.
In closing, I’ll paraphrase Meg Wheatley: Joy is a consequence of living with heartache. Joy isn’t something we muster out of nothingness. - heard in a webinar about her new book: Restoring Sanity.
This week also learning with:
* Consent as an Every Day Practice, beyond intimacy; from Time to Spring Up (found via Anneka Deva)
* Conflict is Inevitable, Rad HR; found via Anneka Deva;
Recommending:
* It’s your last chance to apply for OrgBuilders 2024 or share the programme with a social justice organisation who could really benefit from this wonderful resource. Deadline is 17th of March;
* Become a Settle Coach and work on the frontline, delivering one-to-one sessions with care-experienced young people across London. Deadline 1st of April;
* Join one of Rooted in Belonging’s upcoming retreats for mixed, bi-cultural and multicultural people of colour to connect with nature and cultivate their belonging, in Dartmoor.
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If you enjoy reading Like Person, Like Coach recommend it to others. Get in touch at iacobrbacian@gmail.com or find me elsewhere online.