Delete, delete, delete.

I’ll be honest, I’m being reinvented right now.

This is what Martha Beck would call ‘Square One’ - the dissolving stage of change. Old ways of being, changing.

All the things that don’t fit any more, falling way.

An experience of inner autumn if you like - letting go, dropping, falling away, like a tree knowing it doesn’t need to hang onto those beautifully browning leaves - because they will grow anew next Spring.

I had a coaching call this week where my buddy Hannah helped me realise I needed to make some space, put my ‘big rocks’ in first, and stop cluttering up my time with sand and debris.

So when had a clear out of my gmail account yesterday whilst waiting for my car to be serviced, and I deleted something called ‘archive’ - I was surprised to see the teeny tiny message in the bottom left corner of my screen saying ‘deleting 24,500 messages’ but didn’t really know what it was. But more ‘hmm, that’s mildly curious’ as opposed to ‘holy shit what I have I done’, if you know what I mean.

It was only later, when finding myself blink-staring at a blank inbox that I realised what had happened.

Memories of all the things I’d saved and stored over the past decade that I was planning ‘on coming back to’.

Entire online courses I’d signed up to and kept the materials but never finished.

My train and hotel journeys for next week.

A copy of a family will that needed safekeeping.

Messages from my Mum.

Notes from coaching buddies from when I asked them to tell me my impact and they gave me some delicious, kind and spontaneously heartfelt words.

Stuff I meant to reply to but didn’t get around to.

All my login and subscription details for being a coach, a psychologist, a facilitator, all my Continuous Professional development details. Access to my ‘professional identity’.

Stuff that people had written and I’d kept because I was going to use what they’d done as a template that I wanted to do - invitation pages for workshops, for example

A million things I subscribe to but haven’t read.

All gone.

And although I’m shocked and horrified, in that kind of attached-to-our-inboxes kind of way, I’m surprised to find that I’m much, much more liberated and free.

Lighter. Much lighter.

Permission to admit I don’t need those online courses any more.

Trusting that the right information will always find its way to me, or I’ll be able to look it up.

Permission to let go of the idea that I’ll get back in touch ‘someday’.

Knowing that who I am at my core, is much more magnificent than any amount of evidence I need to gather in the form of qualifications, certifications, and external validations.

Knowing that the kind words from my friends lives inside us, our relationship, our hearts, not in some words on a screen.

And it’s inspired me to create a new way of being with my inbox.

Unsubscribe. Unhook. Let go. Delete, delete, delete.

And even if I knew of a way to bring it all back, I don’t think I would.

My wish for you.


If we were sitting together with our backs pressed up against a big old wise tree, the sun dappling through leaves that are rustling softly with the breeze, musing about the magic and mystery of life, I'd tell you that you are more powerful than you ever gave yourself permission to believe.

I think you are incredible, with your deep thoughtfulness, your tenderness and fierce courage, your craving for quiet, your vision, your longing to have a deeper impact in the world.

I'd acknowledge that something deeply-buried is shifting in you, and the calling to something new is getting louder.

That all the stuff that's happened to you is rocket fuel for your transformation and evolution. That there is alchemy in transmuting that energy, that narrative, into something more potent, more empowering, more alive.

I'd tell you my wish for you is that you know that you belong here, in this miraculous life.

Right now, and just as you are.

Real, messy and magnificent, with high, strong energy and fire in your belly.

And in fact, the world may just be depending on it.


When vulnerability is your dance partner

image by Kinga Cichewicz at unsplash

image by Kinga Cichewicz at unsplash

I spend a lot of time helping people get really intimate with the ways that vulnerability operates in their lives. 

We're talking down and dirty, full-body mud-wrestling, rather than a limp, politely offered handshake.

Today, my friend and colleague Petra Velzeboer, pressed a button, and the conversation we recorded months and months ago, is live on the inter webs, as part of her 'Adversity to Advantage' podcast.

Crazy fool that I am, I chose to share my infertility story as my adversity. 

Just a little light press of a button with Petra's index finger (I say this for dramatic effect, I didn't actually check...) and a part of my story and sharing out there, for folks to hear, should they feel inspired to listen.

And not the tidy tale where I've got it all under control, either. 

It's so much easier to share the carefully crafted image of the identity we've created for ourselves, who we think we should be, with carefully edited thoughts and opinions.

It's much, much harder, to let people see the parts we wish they wouldn't see. 

Blimey, sometimes it's hard to admit them to ourselves.

The things we're really thinking.

What we're really feeling. 

Especially if they're 'unpopular' feelings. Envy, hostility, disgust, disappointment, shame.

The old me would rather have eaten my own head than let anyone know that I felt anything less than rainbows-and-unicorns most of the time.

The current me has learned though, that letting people see us, real and messy, in process, alive and (like all of us) finding our way through this crazy, beautiful world, is the only way to go if we want to create a deeper connection.

And trying to edit my truth is like trying to squeeze a normal sized foot into a teeny tiny Cinderella glass slipper.

Uncomfortable, impossible, unnecessary and painful.

I've learned that when I hide parts of myself in order to fit in, or look better to others, I'm betraying myself and I'm not helping the people in my life know who I am, really, either.  Hiding, if you like.

Healthy vulnerability is about my willingness to be seen, in the ways that I choose to share, and with the people I trust enough to tell my story. Or - in this case - in being willing to be known by whomever listens, just-as-I-am. 

(We do need a good support network, I've learned. The ability to call on people who will champion and cheer us on, tell us the truth, love us in our imperfectly perfectness.)

When I'm not feeling rainbows and unicorns, I'm able to use the feelings from what's difficult, edgy or not-what-I-want, as creative rocket fuel to write a new story for myself.

I am the person who stopped wishing wistfully for the life she thought she should be living, and started living and creating from the one she was actually in.

Turning round the unwanted, to face the wanted. 

Denying that stuff just keeps us stuck and small, with no room to expand, transcend, evolve.

So listen if you must. 



Just say it.


I experienced someone being true to themselves this week when they told a group they had been leading for years, they were no longer going to be fulfilling that role - things had changed, they were reaching a birthday milestone and evaluating their life, they wanted to spend more time with family.

As they started to say the words, even before they got the words out, someone in the group had shouted out 'OH NO!' and I thought that have made it much harder to say. But the person did it, they didn't falter. They got the words out. I could see that they were shaken by having spoken, feeling all the feels of the vulnerability, the uncertainty, the risk that had just been taken. A necessary one, for them to be true to themselves and to follow what felt right, but one that rocked them deeply, nevertheless.

This is ordinary courage in action. No loud fanfare, no bells and whistles. Saying what we need to say. Trusting who we are, what we value, what we need.

We're all in it together.

How's your self-esteem?


‘How are you, with self-esteem?’

This is the question I was asked by a the kindly astrologer, last week, whose celestial wisdom I have sought out as I joined my friend at her annual reading and now It Is My Turn.

He sits opposite me, both of us on faded, cosy sofas, where who knows how many people have learned of the cosmic influences affecting their lives.

The fire is blazing. It’s cold outside, icy blue skies and damp leaf-ridden paths.

I’m in a magical pink house in the heart of the lake district, where outside I can just hear the roar of fast-moving water outside, from the river flowing with great force over the pebble-ridden riverbed.

My attention gets drawn back to the room I am in and his question rings in my ears.

‘How are you with self-esteem?’  he is asking.

What is it? I am thinking. And do I have it? And shouldn't I know what it is, given that feeling good about ourselves is at the heart of my work?

Is it self-care or self-respect or self-worth?

Is it something I think, or feel, or believe, or know, or do?

Where did I learn or not learn it? Where did it come from? 

Is it pride? or confidence? ego-ism? narcissism?  self-assurance? self-regard? vanity? self-satisfaction? morale? How do I know if I have a good one or not? :)

Research time.

Two uninterrupted hours, a deep-dive into the interwebs and psychology archives, three cups of Yorkshire tea and a curly wurly later, and here’s what I’ve learned:

'Esteem' is about respect and admiration, yes, but also defined as 'considered as', 'believed to be', 'judgement'.

Self-esteem is an experience of ourselves, an evaluation; at its core is our judgement about ourselves.

It’s a stable sense of self-worth. 

(if worth is defined as value, I’m wondering if it’s even possible to quantify the value of our worth as human beings. Like, why do we even have those thoughts in the first place? The leaves and trees and wind and animals aren’t wondering about their worthiness or comparing the shape of their leaves, or paws, are they? And has anyone noticed the sense of entitlement cats seem to stroll around with, lately?).

It’s our ability to believe we are able to cope with the basic challenges in life, that we deserve to be happy.

Competence and worthiness.

According to Nathaniel Branden's six pillars of self-esteem, it is all of these:

-being present to what we are doing as we do it, 

-accepting our thoughts feelings and actions without evading, denying or disowning them, 

-taking responsibility for ourselves as the authors of our choices and actions, 

-being real in our dealings with others, 

-refusing to fake the reality of who we are or what we esteem in order to avoid disapproval, 

-being willing to stand up for ourselves and our ideas in appropriate ways in appropriate contexts, 

-living with purpose and intention, taking action. 

-learning, reflecting, starting again if necessary.

- personal integrity, living with congruence between what we know, profess and do, honouring our commitments, telling the truth.

I can think of the myriad of ways I’ve not lived these ways.

Having a pesky distracted mind, flitting here there and everywhere but in this moment right here.  

Wanting a healthy body and giving up sugar and still eating a curly wurly without really tasting it, the ‘instant gratification monkey’ in me sticking two fingers up to the ‘future, healthy me’ as it gleefully scoffs it - future-sugar-free-me being desirable but too distant to resist the temptation of the creamy toffee and milky chocolate in the here and now.

Denying how I feel, and what I think (yes, of course we’ll come to you on Christmas Eve. What’s that, you need someone to fight the last minute shopping crowds to pick up your M&S food order? No problem. Whats that you say? Won’t an introverted crowd-o-phobe like me, find that draining and unpleasant? Never mind that. Shall I drive round and drop off some of those christmas cards for you at the same time? Oh, hello, resentment).

Burying emotions (I will *not* feel or acknowledge you, anger. I will not have a full-contact relationship with you, even if that person has well and truly crossed the line. Again).

Pretending to myself I’m going to do things: Me: “I’m going to get straight up and go for a run in the morning”. Also Me, the following morning - hits snooze button repeatedly.

Blaming others instead of taking responsibility. Pleasing, performing or perfecting. Hiding the parts of me I judge as unsuitable or a bit weird (stardusty-magical-unicorns-crossed-with-deep-shadow-integration-work, anyone?)

The foundations of our self-esteem seem to originate from early childhood - having responsive, present, emotionally available parents or caregivers are likely to leave us with a world view of getting our needs met and having clear and healthy rules and limits set by parents.

Since I've never actually met anyone who was brought up in those perfect circumstances (dysfunctional family bingo, anyone?), that probably means we've all got a bit of work to do.

You can check out some useful journalling prompts here.  And if you want to dig a bit deeper with this work, you might want to do it with a therapist or coach, or come join us at a future workshop! 

Image by Toa Heftiba at

I work with vibrant people who are creating brilliant things and being brave with their lives. We'd love to have you join us for an in-person workshop, in the heart of the Lake District. Bookings are open for Rising Strong in March 2018 and The Daring Wayin April 2018.

Inherited stories.

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I was blessed this week to have a little piece of my family history land in my hands, after a tin of old papers emerged from my late Mum's belongings.

Filled to the brim with newspaper cuttings, with yellowing, history-seeped papers documenting the coming, joining, separating and passing of human lives - those of my great-grandmother and great-grandfather, and the grandfather I never knew and who was rarely talked about. Like an ancestry paper-chain, we are connected through time and space, despite never actually meeting in the flesh.

Something that caught my attention was a note from my great-grandmother, Freda Annie, written to my gran Marjorie (that's her and me together in the pic above), telling her where to find the money 'in the sock tin' in the event of something happening to her. In my grandmother's handwriting on the back of the envelope was  a note: 'we mustn't tell the National Assistance'.

Since I can't ask my mum or gran, I have to make up the story that this was a note to remind someone, or herself, that there is danger in telling Them that There Is Money about. That somehow there will be less. That someone might take it away. That the safest place for money is in a sock tin. 

I'm so moved by this link with my ancestors, and the women I never knew, but without whom I would never have existed.

It left me wondering about how much of our ancestry we collect, inherit, absorb and hold onto in what we do, say and think every day.

I know that one of my things to master in this lifetime has been my relationship with 'enough-ness'.

Scarcity is not my friend, but has been my consistent companion throughout life, a bit like the summer-WASP-IN-THE-CAR scenario, only less frantic and not nearly as obvious. Definitely unwanted though.

There's not enough.

I  haven't had enough sleep.

I don't know where to find clients.

I'm afraid to leave my uninspiring job in case there's nothing else out there for me.

I haven't got enough money.

I can't afford it.

Someone's going to take it all away.

You can't trust authority.

WHOA! Pattern interrupt :) Let's just stop this train of thought right here.


We don't have to perpetuate our family-ar belief systems. 

We can halt that right now.

We can choose again, here and in this moment.

Is there some effort required in rewiring our brains and in thinking new thoughts and creating new beliefs? Yes.

Is it do-able? Absolutely.

It starts with the light-bulb moment of all we've inherited.

Join me in turning our lights on?

I work with vibrant people who are creating brilliant things and being brave with their lives. We'd love to have you join us for an in-person workshop, in the heart of the Lake District. Bookings are open for Rising Strong in March 2018 and The Daring Way in April 2018.

Me too, and Moving to.


I don't have all the answers, about the recent 'me too' wave sweeping Facebook.

I've been grappling with what I really believe, based on my own experience. Writing it down will be an attempt to get clear, for me. If it helps you too, awesome. I'm not professing to be The Authority on how people should feel or respond.  I'm not intending to offend or upset anyone with this post. I'm not looking for outside answers, or advice.

There were two questions I've been grappling with this week, after working through some private stuff about my own teenage years resulting in sexual shame I think I've carried for years! By that I mean some stuff that happened that I have always classified as 'not abuse and not nearly as bad as what others have experienced'. Downgraded, ignored, minimised.

Well, this week, it popped up in a big way.

This inner work, and the Harvey Weinstein thing, have unearthed what has been taking up a huge part of my inner world for the past 30 odd years - and I've only realised and opened it up fully this week. It's been a bit of a street-fight in my psyche this week - think I'm emerging victorious now, you'll be glad to know :)

I work with people a lot who have 'not good enough' issues tied to things that happened in childhood or in teenage years.

There's this beautiful moment I notice when someone is telling me their story - saying the thing out loud that they never told anyone else - they had judged it (them) as so wrong, so unsayable. it's like the sun coming out on their face - they look younger, brighter, more luminous. I tell them they look different. They say 'I know! I feel different'. There is always relief. Like the sun coming out after a storm. 

And - I've always been drawn to ideas that this is an 'attractive' world - that it matters where we focus and how we use our words and thoughts and feelings to create what we want. So I've been grappling with my dilemma about what I truly believe about how to empathise to best serve my clients, whether focus on my own wounds is healthy, or necessary. I realised I don't need to listen to what others are saying. I need to FEEL my own way through this, come to my own truth.

When I empathise with someone, truly empathise - I'm not just seeing them where they are - I'm knowing that something is transforming into something else. The stuck energy into a new understanding. Alchemy. Phoenix-like. Transformation. Shifting consciousness.

I like Carolyn Elliott's description of 'illuminative empathy' - the art of the art of being compassionate with someone in a way that expands their perspective on their situation and gives them new choices, a new way to see themselves, and new horizons to pursue.

I don't see them as a victim, I don't feed any victim-mentality. I name the pattern, the energy I sense, so that they can recognise it too, if they're ready.  I think holding people accountable is more effective than blaming, offloading hurt, or shaming. 

I want to help my clients know their power. I want to know my power - to choose my focus, to initiate and stay with my healing, to RISE, to tell a new story. An empowering one.

It feels like this is happening for the collective, right now. Paradigm shifts of healing and transforming, a bit like when panning for gold - the lighter gold rises to the top, leaving the dirt at the bottom. I hope, I believe, I sense, that the gold is rising.

To a place where we treat each other with kindness, and love, and one-ness. A new, global way of being.

I find myself seriously entertaining the idea that we are one big ocean. Different drops, but one big ocean. 

I want to uplift and be an uplifter.

I want to feel high, amazing, happy, joyful, free.

I want to know my power to do the work, to heal, to expand, to take responsibility for my experience of it. Yes, someone did some things. Yes people should be held accountable. Yes, it's important to be clear about what's okay and what's not okay.  Yes, there is healing required on both sides.

I want to do the work of my own healing.  I want to stand in the fire with my clients as they face their 'fire'. It's getting harder not to have my coaching and workshop work not be about deep healing, whether it be one to one, or group, or corporate work. Something shifting.

I want to feel powerful, not give my power away by holding onto past hurts without healing them. I want the deep heaviness that gets carried around in our bodies, to be lifted and fly away like a billion shimmery butterflies, transforming into something lifted, lighter, freer.

Yeah, I think I'm a bit clearer :)

Managing identity.

Photo by  Sydney Jackson  on  Unsplash

"Yeah, of course, I'd be annoyed, but I wouldn't say anything!"

"I've never liked parties, but I feel like I should at least go and show my face."

"I handed him the finished report and he said 'that's twice this week I've had to correct some things in your work. I didn't say anything, but I felt flat and upset and wanted to punch him in the face."

"So I went and brought a navy blazer - even though I don't suit navy and hate dressing formally, because I'm a manager now, and managers wear suits don't they?"

These are the kinds of things I've heard my clients say in the past month, all to do with the hustle and struggle that is trying to manage the perception that others have of us, based on the way we'd like to be seen, versus who we actually are.  

We humans are incredible. We are miracles in human form. There is only one of each of us, with our way of experiencing the world. And don't get me started on the amount of amazing things our bodies can do. (Did you know that it's not possible to tickle ourselves? We have brains that will NOT BE FOOLED!)

And we often ignore all of that and put a load of energy into trying to be something different, something better, something comparable to someone else's standards.

What's that all about?

Have a go at this little exercise: ask yourself the following questions. 

  • Do I love everything in my wardrobe?
  • In the past week, have I said anything that wasn't true, or that I didn't fully believe, in an attempt to try and control someone else's opinion of me?
  • Do I say 'I should do, really', a lot?
  • In the next week, have I got anything in my calendar that I am going to, where my heart's not really in it?
  • Do you keep doing something that makes you feel drained?
  • Do you hope people don't guess that you haven't got a clue what you're doing half the time?
  • Do some people just seem to leave you feeling intimidated?

If you've said yes to more than one of these, it's likely there is a gap between how you actually feel inside and how you want others to see you.  It's not just you - it's part of the built-in mechanism for having us stay 'part of the tribe' and belonging.  

[As I'm typing this I just heard on the radio the news about North Korea and it's missile testing: the report that 'they don't want to be seen as negotiable with, they want to be seen as 'world leaders'. Even whole countries are doing identity-management.]

But here's the thing. You don't need to me to tell you it's EXHAUSTING to manage the daily hustle for feeling good enough, ready enough, competent enough, smart enough, and before we know it we've built a life and work around an identity that doesn't really feel like us. 

The good news is, who you actually are, with your gifts, and strengths, and what matters most, and your preferences, is all right there, waiting for you to stop, breathe, and notice what feels best.

It's a bit like the 'hotter/colder game' - start noticing what feels better, like relief, like resonance, like the tiny flickers of excitement. They might be tiny at first, especially if you've been ignoring them for a while. And it's much easier to respond from that place - when you are being fully present and clear about who you are and what matters most to you.

Let go of that old identity that isn't who you are these days and put the real you in charge more often. Double-dare ya. Let us know what happens, will you?

Like this? Please consider sharing it with someone you think will like it too. Thanks!

You are cordially invited to join us for an open workshop, find out about working 1:1 with me, or get in touch to commission a The Daring Way or Rising Strong workshop for your team or organisation. Click here to find out more about me. 

Defending the used-car salesman stereotype.


Yesterday, I bought a car.

I'm taking a risk, because as of the end of this week I'll be joining the ranks of the self-employed, so the days leading up to this were more me sitting huddled over my pennies, nursing them tenderly and a bit obsessively, muttering 'precious' under my breath, than throwing notes up in the air a-la Julie Andrews singing 'the hills are alive' as I wantonly squander my fortune. 

I bought it from my local dealership, because I understand loyalty in a way I never did as a customer in the past,  but would have been happy to buy from any of the other dealerships I visit - I've trained and coached hundreds of staff and managers across nine sites - and almost all of the people I've met have been awesome. 

After four years 'in the motor trade', I've learned a thing or two that might be helpful to know about, should you ever be in the position of buying a car, and be feeling less-than-excited about the whole experience (armouring up for going into battle, anyone?)

I should probably say, I think the manufacturer makes a difference to our experience. Buying a car from Lexus, Audi or BMW will have  a different atmospheric 'flavour' than buying one from Ford, Renault or Peugeot, for example. I'm a Honda girl, and my experience has been that the workforce matches the brand = reliable, trustworthy, friendly, exciting (the latter if you're at the touring-car-racing and maybe less so if you're in a 1.2 litre Jazz pottering around town (no offence intended). 

The old me wouldn't have had a clue what she really wanted ("I like the red one"), would have approached the test drive with a serious case of the heebie jeebies, hoping that I would 'pass', and would have probably kept quiet at the negotiation stage and sat by passively whilst I let my badass husband face down the salesman with steely glares and a pokerfaced 'silence-off' because everybody knows when you are negotiating on buying a car that HE WHO SPEAKS FIRST, LOSES.

Gone are the days of the sales manager throwing your keys onto the roof of the dealership and threatening to leave them there until you buy a car in a 'no-one walks' scenario. 

I had a completely different experience this time, mostly because I understand the process better, and because I bought my car from people I like and trust - we've built a relationship over time so it was easier to have confidence that I was getting the best experience I could have.

Here are five things I've learned, based on my own experience and I'm not saying I'm an expert - but might help someone else shift their thinking hence writing this post.

1. Give them the opportunity to serve you well. Salespeople (yes, even used car ones), at least the ones in the main dealerships that I visit, are warm, empathic, honest and smart human beings. They 'get it' that you don't want to be 'ripped off'. Often, they are working in a culture that values the sale, granted, that's what they're there for, after all, but the individuals I work with are emotionally intelligent enough to recognise that you're a human being, who wants things to be fair, and they, too, value honesty, trust and respect

2. Ask for what you want! Be really clear that you want the very best deal they are able to get for you, without to-ing and fro-ing whilst you both negotiate. My salesman (get me, 'my salesman' :)) yesterday said "I'm not even going to try to sell you a car" with a non-resistant and humorous style because a) I've been training him for years on the value of having the customer feel in control, and b) I'd been clear that I was definitely interested in a car, but that I was also exploring other options. It helped him, to know exactly where I stood.

The 'smoke and mirrors' dance of entering the sales process and getting to a 'deal' (I think) has been created because of a lack of trust and honesty, often on both sides (car sales environment has often been blamed for this - but I know I've added to that in the past by not being open and clear about my intentions). (Hello... transferrable skill useful in many other situations!).

Show your hand. Otherwise, you will be playing the game you thought they were playing before you walked in, and they may not be. They don't want to sell you a car that you're not happy with.

3. Trust your first impressions. The salesmen (and one or two women) in the dealerships I visit, are decent humans, too. If you can help it, try not to stereotype or pigeon hole them. Give them the opportunity to help you find the right car for you. One or two are still 'old-school' and may try to come over all alpha-male and salesy, in which case you should absolutely hot foot it out of there quicker than Quicky McQuickface. Otherwise - give them the opportunity to serve you respectfully. 

4. They are there to sell cars - it's what they are rewarded for and what the business exists to do. That is okay. It can be done with fairness, honesty and they will look to get the best deal possible for you.

5. There isn't always a lot of profit in a car. Not eleventy-thousand in each one, contrary to customer-popular-belief. Really. Sometimes a used car sale might make a hundred quid for the dealership. Sometimes less than that, or nothing.  

Ask for the best deal, but don't take the mick. And the 'can you throw in some mats' request costs them money - so by all means ask, but don't assume you're being 'seen off' if they can't say yes. It maybe beyond their control.

As customers, we want fairness, trust, and reliability - 'please don't rip me off', 'will you look after me?', and 'do what you said you were going to do'. As salespeople (at least, the ones I've had the privilege of working with) want the same. It's about time we stopped stereotyping and gave them the opportunity to serve us well.

[No salespeople were harmed in the writing of this post.] And I'll be back to write about aftersales staff because they are awesome, too, in my experience.

For me, this is an opportunity to practice inclusion, and believing the best about people! And also good boundaries, and the ability to sniff out any 'power-over' techniques or anything that feels shady. It's totally ok to walk away from that or anything that doesn't feel good to you.

Would love to know about your car-buying experiences in the past. Have you had similar good experiences as a customer? Comment below, and share if you liked this. Thanks!

Why people don't speak up in teams.

It's Monday morning - you're at the weekly team get-together and everyone's focus is on the latest issue or problem to resolve. You've been doing the job for a while, have got some great ideas about how things could be improved in this area, burning for you to share them. How likely are you to speak up and share your ideas?

If you're in a working culture where you are encouraged to contribute, however diverse your ideas, it's likely there is trust between individual members of the team and managers or leaders.

If you don't feel able to speak up, you're not alone. 

One of the things I often see in my organisational work is a culture where team members will talk honestly amongst themselves, having a very clear point of view about some aspect of the role or team, but may not speak up about it more widely. When asked how things are by a manager, the employees say that all is well, usually because they believe that something unpleasant will happen if they speak honestly. They tell me a different tale in our work together, because they are able to speak freely without fear of judgement or consequence.

For someone to speak up in the workplace, there has to be a culture of psychological safety. Kahn* defines this as 'being able to show and employ one's self without fear of negative consequences of self-image, status or career'.

In psychologically safe teams, there is a shared belief that the team is safe for interpersonal risk-taking. Individuals in the team feel accepted and respected. I imagine also that individuals would feel safe to show their vulnerability* (taking the risk to speak up, sharing how they feel, even though there's no guarantee of the outcome, mutual and based on trust, not over-sharing) in a team where trust has been built over time.

Psychological safety is different from building trust. Trust is built incrementally, over time, and relates to the way one person views another, and the belief they have about that person.

Psychological safety is the belief about the group norm (does it feel okay to speak honestly in this group?), and its focus is on how one person thinks they might be viewed (if I speak up, will I lose my job, look stupid, or damage my reputation?).

There are important chemicals that help to create social bonds and loyalty (oxytocin, for example) released into the bloodstream when trust is present. These help to counteract the effects of feeling judged or criticised (which is likely to elicit the fight/fight response), so a physiological 'result', underpinning perceptions of judgement, acceptance and safety. Literally, a culture of trust helps to offset the negative effects of a stressful role.

As a leader, you're unlikely to get engagement, innovation or people willing to learn from their mistakes, without developing a healthy sense of psychological safety in your team.  To do that, you might need to look at how well you develop relationships that are built on a healthy foundation of mutual trust.

It's easier to develop it when there is good social cohesion - teams that have mutual liking between each of the members, who belong to a group they are proud of, doing tasks and work that are committed to, where they care about the group's outcomes and performance. Inviting employees to take part in decision-making can help too, as part of a 'participatory management' approach.

A final important idea to consider is one of accountability - setting boundaries and holding people accountable may be a lot more work than shaming and blaming - but it's one that is likely to help to build a healthier workplace. 

The starting point is asking yourself whether the culture you're working in, is one that consciously cultivates openness, inclusion, respect and trust, where people are encouraged to speak openly and held accountable for what they said they would do. If not, it's likely you'll have a workforce where people keep quiet, making it harder for them to be influenced. 


Brown, B. (2012).  Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead. Gotham Press.

Kahn, W. A. (1990). Psychological Conditions of Personal Engagement and Disengagement at WorkAcademy of Management Journal33 (4): 692–724.

The Daring Way™ is a 3 day workshop exploring topics like leadership, courage, vulnerability, shame and empathy. Next open workshop 6,7,8 September at Cumbria Local Enterprise Partnership, Penrith, Cumbria, or you can commission an in-house workshop or bespoke session for your organisation or team. For details see

If you liked this, please consider sharing it with others you think might appreciate reading it, too. Thanks. And - I'd love to know about your experience of speaking up in workplaces. Leave a comment below!

[guest post] Wholehearted living.

I can’t wait to take part in Jacqui’s Wholehearted Living course in September to help me live in a braver, bolder way.

I have gratefully soaked up her influence over five years of friendship: I strive to Show Up, Be Seen and Live Brave in family life, church life, relationships and especially my role as a Mokyfit dance fitness instructor.

We met in class and clicked right away as we both threw ourselves into each chest-pop, kick and whoop with gusto.

So before I become client as well as friend, I did some homework on wholehearted living by seeing my favourite band Coldplay in concert at the Principality Stadium in Cardiff.

What did my pre-workshop research teach me?

1. Keep re-discovering afresh.

I saw Coldplay’s incredible performance at Glastonbury last year (on the telly) and couldn’t believe how much the four musicians wholeheartedly performed each song.

See how lost lead singer Chris Martin is when singing Clocks, not caring a jot about his bizarre piano-thrusting.

His delivery at Cardiff was just as exciting, and he will have performed that song hundreds of times. I had never seen anything like it.

I want to be that carefree, absorbed and energised, like I’m living something for the first time each time I do it. It all seems very Jacqui-esque to me!

2. Be humble, and inclusive.

Chris genuinely thanked everyone for coming and acknowledged the effort it takes to attend a concert: “the traffic jams, the weather, the million pounds you have to pay for a hotel.” He was constantly on the move, singing to each section of the stadium to make everyone feel part of a shared experience.

My Mokyfit audience averages 20, not 70,000, but people give up time and money to attend. I owe it to them to deliver each routine wholeheartedly, no matter if I’m bored of the song or feel tired. I have to keep an eye on everyone and adapt how I teach for all abilities so everyone can feel included and do it wholeheartedly too.

3. Live in the moment.

Guitarist Jonny Buckland played the opening chords to the bouncy Charlie Brown where Chris encouraged everyone to jump to the beat. We enthusiastically obliged. But before he sang the first verse, Chris stopped the band and urged everyone to put their phones away.

Rather than experience this unique moment through a small screen, we should feel it wholeheartedly in the here and now.

“Forget social media,” he said. “Really jump together.”

When the song began again, the atmosphere was totally different.

It was super-charged, electric, euphoric. It reminded me of Jacqui’s description of being “fully alive”.

4. It’s okay to make mistakes.

Another of Jacqui’s mantras, because we become stronger through our mistakes and no-one else cares, so there’s no shame in making them.

The opening notes of the iconic Fix You sounded out as Chris walked along a walkway to the main stage.

He started singing.

Then he stopped the song.

“I’ve messed it up,” he said (in fruitier language). “It’s the second time I’ve done this,” he admitted to 70,000 people, who now admired him all the more.

He re-traced his steps and started again, and our hearts soared as we all sang along.

In my Mokyfit classes, customers love it when I forget the moves because it gives them permission to slip up too.

5. You can stray from plans and go with the flow.

Another Jacqui-ism about not resisting the present moment. The fan who held up a sign pleading with Chris to let him play Everglow was initially turned down, but then Chris beckoned him up and said: “Sod it” (or something similar). “Why not, let’s try it.”

The delighted fan did a decent job playing the piano intro before Chris thanked him and diplomatically took over again.

How generous of him to share his stage and audience, and how brave to try something with such an unknown – potentially disastrous – outcome.

The crowd loved it.


I’ll never forget watching my son Charlie pogo-sticking for two hours with his arms raised, singing with his eyes closed and playing the air guitar with all his being.

What a lesson to learn at just eight years old.

May he live the rest of his life with such carefree joy.

I look forward to progressing my Wholehearted Living journey with Jacqui in September.

Nicola Roberts, MokyFit instructor -

Where d'you wanna go, how much you wanna risk?

It's not even 7 am on a Sunday morning but I've already been wildly inspired by a friend of mine this morning, who wrote an article about her inspiration to live a wholehearted life, tied in with her love of Coldplay. I haven't got permission to share it yet so won't say more, but that sent me on a youtube marathon of rousing songs and this one caught my fancy.

I'm realising more and more:

We don't have to live superhero lives.

We don't have to match up to what others are doing.

We don't have to be famous.

We don't have to have better jobs, perfect bodies, well-behaved kids, more qualifications, harmonious relationships, have all our sh*t together.

We just have to be REAL and drop all the stories about who we should be and start being who we are and do All the Things that are calling us to make them, to bring them alive.

To do that we ARE gonna have to take some risks, we've got to step into that bigger place. 

If we don't try, we'll never know.

If we don't risk, we'll never go.

So where DO you wanna go?  


I had an astrology reading last week that left me profoundly different.

Not the kind of shift I've experienced in coaching before where a glimpse of another way of seeing things helps everything to be different, but later fades and 'status quo' continues.

More of a deep knowing of my true nature - resonance with the vibrational makeup of my physical and spiritual being -  falling away of all things, masks, ways of being unrelated to that true nature. 

An understanding at a visceral level of who I am, and who I came here to be, what I came here to experience.

That I am capable of, and destined for, deeper client and world-work than I have been allowing.

That there is a genie in the bottle - my genius - that has all the wisdom needed to guide me.

That we all have this genius and that when I seek this knowledge for myself (instead of trying to learn from the gurus I turn to who may be wise, but are following their wisdom, their genius), my learning will have greater resonance, greater depth, because it is me who knows what is best for me. My path. 

That there are books which will help me connect with ancient wisdom, and the resonance of that inside myself.

I've started with reading Carl Rogers 'A Way of Being' and I can feel my being shift as I read his words about being real, listening deeply as you sit with another human, about how it is to truly believe and live as though every person can have their own reality - what is true for them. It all links with the work I've done before - coaching, The Daring Way, but somehow is having a deeper impact as I sink into more of what is calling me - depth, wisdom, strength, the wildest, most natural form of ourselves.

I have a newly inspired drawing towards different ways of being, new to me but ancient or established in psychology and in studies of mythology, anthropology, mysticism.

So I'm going to write about how I am shifting - resisting the urge to write for my audience, and giving myself the gift of writing for myself. 

Let's see where this goes :)

Help yourself to support.


For someone who advises and guides others on matters of the heart, I’m not very good at asking for support for myself. Practical help? No problem. Rounding everyone up for a girls night out? Easy. Saying ‘I’m struggling and could do with some support here?’ Not on your nelly.

I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one that has a hard time with this.

I was so surprised last week when sitting with a friend by the estuary off Morecambe Bay, on a blustery July day (yes, I know those things aren't supposed to go together but this is the North of England), sipping our steaming hot tea out of paper cups as the muted greys of the sea and sky shifted and changed and as our eyes watered with the wind.

I’d just told my friend that I’d been feeling flat and tired and, to my surprise, in the kindness and openness of her eye-contact and sitting alongside me, close enough that our arms were touching, I felt my eyes well up and a little bit of grief came up. Well, more of a fair chunk, actually.

I was mortified. I didn't want to feel it and I didn't want her to see it.

I recognise it well these days - by it’s ebbing and flowing, and welling up from the dense, heaviness I feel in my chest. I couldn’t stop the tears, but I noticed they stopped not long after they started, like the latest layer of healing that just wanted releasing.  This story is not about grief - telling that tale is like trying to empty the ocean with a thimble - but about what I noticed later, after I’d left my friend and driven home.

I felt better! I actually felt lighter and clearer, and the heaviness and flatness had gone. I noticed my appreciation for how my friend had just sat with me a while, no fixing, no major talking, just loving, kind presence. 

I had wanted to run away or change the subject or spill my tea or ANYTHING rather than sit there in my pain and worse, have someone see it and know I didn’t have it all sorted out and couldn't find my happy. But staying and feeling it actually helped it shift. 

I know that connection is what it’s all about - how important connection is to why we’re here - but hadn’t realised the power of that ‘space-holding’ as we coaches call it - and also my resistance to being seen in my tenderness and my sadness. I didn’t even consider the pleasure my friend would have got from being with me in deep trust like that. 

Physician, heal thyself. [Insert raised eyebrows here]

I don’t know why it’s so hard for us to ask for support sometimes and why we make up that we have to do this all on our own.

Maybe it’s because we see asking for help or receiving support as a weakness.

Maybe we worry that if we ask for help, people will think we owe them.

Perhaps we haven’t yet learned of the balance between dependence and intimacy.

I had a look at what research suggests about social support. 

I found this useful distinction between Emotional support and Informational support.

The former is the offering of empathy, concern, affection, love, trust, acceptance, intimacy, encouragement, or caring. The latter is is the provision of advice, guidance, suggestions, or useful information to someone. This type of information has the potential to help others problem-solve. 

Imagine, if you will, how it feels when you are offered information by a well-meaning helper, when actually what you wanted was to be seen and cared about. Alongside these two are tangible, practical support, and companionship support, which helps with a sense of belonging.

Current mental health research is well-aware of the benefits of a good social support system for our physical and psychological health, and resilience to stress. More oxytocin, and less cortisol running through our systems.

During the same visit, my friend talked about ‘getting some support’ from her coach because she was dealing with some challenging things at work and knew she would need some extra reinforcement.

I honestly had never considered the power of coaching as support in the same way before. Light-bulb moment.

Having someone in your corner, cheering you on from the sidelines, sometimes offering guidance, mostly asking good questions and providing a big old kind and wide open space within the safe boundaries of the coaching container - why I didn’t realise the power of this before I don’t know. I’m guessing it’ll add a new layer to my facilitation of the Daring Way too - I’ve often been moved when the group include me by asking about my experience or by buying me flowers on day two of a workshop to say thank you - the boundary of ‘facilitator’ or ‘coach’ is softening as I include myself as ‘fellow human’  in a deeper way. It’s all about the beauty of giving and receiving.

So, get some support! From a friend, or a colleague, a manager, a family member, a coach, a group of like-minded folk. Online, or in person. Learn to ask. Know where you are likely to try and go it alone and try asking for some support instead. What have you got to lose?

Mud, nets and cheers.

Sometimes you just have to dive in.

Go for it.

Get dirty.

Forget about how you look, or what Everybody Else is thinking, or about tomorrow’s plans or yesterday’s laundry.

Launch all of yourself into all of your life, with full commitment.

Say yes, with your heart pounding, because it feels good, although also scary and messy.

So you can feel fully alive!


All senses tingling.

Connected with others.

In touch with something greater than yourself.

Last weekend, my ‘brave’ was running two Gelt Gladiators in a weekend – the 10k for the stretch and challenge, the 6k for the team experience.

We did the 6k last year so I knew I could do that distance. Even so, I was afraid of being cold, wet and tired, of not being able to get over the fences, of the slide (oh man was I afraid of the slide. Both days 😊).

And the discomfort.

Pulling yourself along backwards, head first, in a foot of muddy water with a metal grate an inch from your face.

Plunging into icy water and swimming for three long minutes. Running through electric shocked wires.

Summoning upper body strength to get over the 6 foot fences.

Getting a good pace on the running parts.

Coming down a steep slope with only your bottom for padding.

Knowing that the sludge that just went up your nose and in your mouth was almost definitely cow poo.

It was so brilliant. Mostly.

So much fun, and so much stretch and challenge.

This is the reward - The freedom. The fun. The spontaneous laughter.

The first noticing of my grey roots when I saw the photos and then thinking ‘wow! I look so happy!’. The best feeling.

The achievement – not for glory but for sheer pleasure and the appreciation of life.

The gratitude – for my friends and the team spirit, for the atmosphere of helping and encouragement from them and from fellow participants and bystanders. For hot baths and proud husbands.

The ‘happy tiredness’ – the after-effects of a cold, wet and muddy endurance run and the associated feelings of deep satisfaction, contentment, fulfilment.

Lingering over memories of hearing people saying ‘I can’t do it!’ followed by a helping hand on the bum to hoy them over the wall or ‘here, use my hands as a step!’ followed by the cheers of the team and the rallying cry of ‘yes you can!’.

Yes, You Can.

When was the last time YOU felt this alive?

I’m so curious about that.

What makes us feel that alive? That purposeful? That brave? That strong?

Where do we get in our own way? How do we stop ourselves from living the full colour of our lives?

What stories do we tell ourselves about not being ready, or not being able to, or not knowing how, or how being afraid is a good reason not to do something?

How do we connect with that part of us that says ‘yes, you can!’

Yes, you can sign up! For the mud run, or the art class, or whatever is calling you.

You can say yes to the conversation, the interview, the new project or business.

You can say no, to anything that makes you feel sadder, or tireder, or less-than.

Even if we’re not feeling ready, or good enough, or we worry that we won’t fit in, we can choose this way of being.

And we can do it for the joy and the aliveness and the vibrancy of it.

We can get our hands in that magnificently muddy messy life of ours, and feel ALIVE.


If you'd like some help being braver and happier - a group of us are gathering in September in Penrith to share the curriculum of The Daring Way - a supportive and challenging non-residential intensive workshop retreat - you don't have to do this on your own. We'd love you to join us! You can read more about that here.

Stop resisting life

photo courtesy of

photo courtesy of

I'm reading Kyle Cease's new book 'I hope I screw this up' and realising something really important about how I experience my life.

So much of it is in my head - with worries about what people think, am I doing it right, what SHOULD I do next,  second guessing myself and my decisions, looking to others for guidance about what's right for me. 

This is not a place where life flows. It's a place where I resist life. 

When I'm in my head, the priorities are staying small, under the radar, not being seen and keeping safe. And many times thoughts of scarcity and caution. The thoughts are usually based on an old script instead of noticing what really wants to happen in the moment and trusting that feeling. I'm not present to what's happening AT ALL, I'm just living in a story in my head.

Like when we were on a sunny walk yesterday on the beautiful Scottish coastline, and stopped for a playful and delicious ice-cream on the way back to the car. I noticed my judgement about shouldn't really have one, my head's attempt to judge something that was about to bring me great pleasure as 'wrong' somehow. 

Instead, I choose the wild abandon, risk-taking and savouring that I would prefer to have and that goes with saying a 'hell yes' to the ice-cream my body wants to have.

I wonder where else that little voice of caution and judgement stops me having a really, really good time

When I let my heart lead, the guidance is softer, quieter, gently persistent.

Flow with life, it says. Stop resisting the present moment.

Eat the ice cream.  Savour the soft breeze on your face. Enjoy the company you are with. Notice the sparkle on the water and the frothy aliveness of the surf. Absorb the full-on joy of the dogs splashing as they bound and chase each other through the shallow water. Just this moment.

Say 'yes' to life.


On Leaping

Picture by Jake Ingle at

Picture by Jake Ingle at

I once got told by a coach that I should 'pee, or get off the pot', when showing up to my coaching work, which led to me taking what felt like a giant leap and huge risk by taking voluntary redundancy with my at-the-time employer.

She didn't say 'pee' though.

I digress.

Almost immediately after leaping, a new job appeared and I've been busy with that for the past three years, on top of working with a small client caseload, and delivering a few workshops but I still really didn't get around to doing 'my own work in the world' in as wide a way as I'd like. Not like world domination or anything, just getting up in the morning and knowing that I'm bringing all I've got, in a way that I'm in charge of. You know?

There's this thing that's been building in me for a while. I have been feeling constrained by having a full-time job, as much as I love the people I work with, appreciate the culture of the company that I am employed by, and value so much of the work that we do.

The leader and freedom-seeker in me has been calling me for a while to make more room in my week for doing more of my own 1:1 coaching work, preparing for the next the Daring Way and Wholehearted Living workshops in September (would love to see you there, if that is your kind of thing!) and for saying yes to exciting projects that are coming my way.

Here's the thing I know about me and risk: we're not exactly old friends.

My old patterning has had me stay as stable and safe as possible, with very little boat-rocking, and certainly no jumping out of safe and secure jobs into the void of the unknown. 

Safe, but feeling stale and too small and unfulfilling for me.

In my own coaching yesterday my coach shared with me this Indiana Jones video where he has to take the first step before the path appears (the 'leap' is at minute 0:50 for those of you who like to get to the point quickly).  

I have known for some time that my next step is to go part-time, or freelance for my current employer, so I can do All The Other Things. In that moment where Coach challenged me to take the leap, here's what my inner defeatest told me:

Whoa. This Is Scary.

You're not going to have any money. Nobody will hire you or want to work with you and you will end up alone, living out of a trolley in the street. Fact.

WTF are you doing?


We're not doing that.

It's not that bad!

It's too huge a step.

Nopity Nope Nope. No.

Should we eat something? A biscuit, maybe?

Let's distract ourselves. Netflix! Facebook! Fridge-raiding! Organising the office!

Ok.  Let's analyse the options one more time.



My wisest self was saying:


Freedom. Expansion. Creativity.

Make Something Happen.

This is *so* exciting.

Yes! Do it!


In the next moment, I'm agreeing that I will speak with the manager in my company today and explore the options for a win/win.

They get to keep my enthusiasm and commitment for the work I do for them, and I get more freedom to create and play and work on other projects.

I didn't fret over the choice, I didn't even really plan what I was going to say. I've been living with the request for months, only I've been ignoring it so far as Taking Action goes.

I just needed to decide. Asking for what I need wasn't so scary. The decision to ask for what I needed, was the scariest part.

Like when you jump out of a plane - the anticipation - the bit before you jump - is far worse than the actual falling. That feels like Freedom, and Excitement, and Flying!

Today I had the conversation, and very soon, I'm going to not be full-time employed any more.

I thought I'd feel amazing, and brave, and WOW.

I actually just feel, calmly like 'This is cool. The next natural step'.

A wise coaching buddy of mine said yesterday 'the funny thing about faith, is that you only need it when things are uncertain - you don't look for it when everything is going well'.

I'm stepping into the unknown, because for the first time that I have chosen it, I won't know what my income will be.

And it doesn't feel brave, or scary any more. It just feels wise, and normal. And there's a tiny hint of aliveness and excitement, which I make up will build in the coming days as I realise what I've made room for.

And I'm excited. Cos instead of controlling everything that happens in my week, I'm following my inner guidance and letting something new emerge. I'm 'walking my talk'.

And I realise this is how it feels to trust that things are going to work out just fine as I carve my own path.


How about you? Do you have something calling you to leap that feels scary, but isn't going away? I'd love to know about it. 

Feel free to share in the comments below, or get in touch if you are interested in learning more about workshops based on topics like these - I'd love you to take a look at the Daring Way pages for details!

Like this? Please consider sharing it! Thank you.



How to talk about shame in the workplace - a worksheet and activity guide

Greetings, fellow brave souls!

I had a couple of people do the Daring Way and then ask for ideas for bringing some of what they learned to life back in the workplace, so I created a two pager which might help with future requests.

Shame can be a trixy topic even in emotionally-intelligent workplaces, so if you're an HR or L&D professional, internal coach, manager or change-maker, or someone who would just value some guidance about how to talk about shame at work - I created this for you. Hope it helps.

P.S. I'd say (based on my experience of facilitating this work for 18 months now) we need to do our own work (inner soul-searching as well as research) before facilitating conversations about shame. It's not for the faint-hearted. The rewards for the well-being of the workforce and its leadership are huge, though, I believe. Enjoy!


I would love to know about your experiences with talking about shame in the workplace, or how you see it show up in your team or at work.

Feel free to share in the comments below (remember to maintain confidentiality :-))

I run workshops around topics like these - please see the Daring Way pages for details!

Like this? Please consider sharing it! Thank you.

How telling a room full of strangers I had sweaty armpits created magic

I'm standing at the front of the room, about to run an interactive session about failing and getting up again, being real, and living your life with your whole self. 

It's Saturday. There are about 30 people sitting on chairs facing me, in a school classroom just north of Newcastle, for the Spring ChangeCamp. They are mostly therapists, change-makers, coaches, and people who are interested in human behaviour and change. 

I make up that they will have high-expectations.

I want them to feel something really powerful - the truth of this work and this way of being. I know I have the courage to be seen, I know I am good at this work, I have prepared some stuff for them. I kind of know where the session will go and where it'll end up.

I'm playing my own 'arena' playlist as they come into the room. I know music makes me feel really good. I try not to mind that 'sexy and I know it' is playing as the bulk of the people come in. I wonder for a fleeting session if they will mind my eccentricity and occasional-bursting-into-dance, just cos it feels good.

I start talking. I welcome them into the room and tell them a little of my story. Perfectionism, can't-be-with-failing, disowning those parts of myself I judge as undesirable, blah blah.

My heart is pounding right out of my chest.

My mouth is really dry, suddenly.

I notice that my armpits are sweaty (oh no, did I shave my armpits this morning?) and I feel the pulse and force of the present moment, as I stand before these lovely people. The moment, the space of anticipation, where they have no idea what will come next - I am the guide, the midwife for the unfolding of the next hour and twenty minutes.

I am talking but I have to stop and breathe. I realise I can barely catch my breath! 

A few years ago, I might have tried to create the very best impression possible. One of the super-composed, well-prepared and holding-it-together presenter/facilitator. The one with dry armpits, a steady and calm heartbeat, poised and ready to develop a brilliant presentation that will wow them and won't make me feel too exposed and uncomfortable in the process. A good distance in the connection between me, and Everybody.

These days, I know too much about how that way of being doesn't deliver RESONANCE, and MAGIC, and allow us to be MOVED by our humanity and vulnerability. 

That way of being is small, and held-back and careful.

So these days, when I'm presenting or facilitating, I just 'do' real, and messy, and whole, and magnificent.

[Come back to the presentation]. So I don't pretend.

I tell them what I don't want them to know about me, in that moment.

I tell them I can barely breathe, that my heart is pounding, that I've got 'sweaty pits' (sorry, audience. It is entirely possible that was an 'overshare'). 

I tell them I love this work, and that I want to be brave with my life and work and in sharing my message with them.

I tell them I want for them the feeling of freedom that comes with being who we are, mess and sweaty pits and all.

I offer myself to them, in that moment, just as I am. I surrender to the moment, because it feels so good, I feel so free, and I can give myself to the moment and give all I have, because I'm being topped up with a constant source of inspiration and presence, in that moment.

Because I'm not trying to work it out or thinking. I'm just being, sensing, responding to the dance in the room, and creating from that.

And then they do an exercise where they help each other focus on moments of success and flourishing, and moments of disappointment and failure and the gifts they brought to those moments, helping each other see where they shine, naturally, with no effort at all, even where they would normally have judged themselves as failing, or in not being able to own their gifts even when they were shining.

And within a few minutes the room is abuzz with laugher, some tears, hugging, deep connection, brought about by compassion, and empathy, and being seen in their humanness as magnificent, and messy, and real, and amazing. Every one of those people had a story. Stories of sadness, and tragedy, and heartbreak, and love, and wonder, and dreaming, and power, and wanting to create. 

They are magnificent.

And I know that they were more able to be magnificent because I was able to let them see me, in mine, even in my exact messy state in the moment I started my session with them. I know it because I see it and feel it on every single Daring Way and Rising Strong workshop I deliver. And the more I experience it, the harder it gets to be the old way, where I have to look good or competent, and be perfect, and prepare, and need-to-know.

And I wanted to move them along quickly, since this exercise had not been intended as such a big part of the main session, but the group told me 'no'. We want to have this conversation. We will not be moved on quickly.

They told me this with their words, with their energy, with their eyes, and their pleas for 'more time'. They told me by the way I could not enter the small group discussions. They were on 'lock-down' as they created deep connections and sharing together, just like I had invited them to do.

So I just stayed at the front of the room, standing and resting against a desk, for another 25 minutes, and noticed what was happening. What happens when we create a strongly-held intention for healing and miracles, and then get out of our way and let it come.

When we notice when our usual industriousness-in-preparation for something feels like more effort than is required (as it had done for me in the weeks leading up to ChangeCamp), and that we feel like if we just show up and create a space for people to connect at a deep level - they will do the work of their own healing.

We will create connection, with those conditions, because we are human and we are hard-wired for connection.

Whatever's wanting to happen will happen.

I sat at the front of the room, revelling in the ease and synchronicity, and what can happen when we are fully who we are, when we don't hold ourselves back with fears of being seen a certain way (perfect presenter with calm heartbeat and dry armpits) and we say 'look! I'm really really here with you in this moment. I'm willing to be truly seen, because I care more about this other thing, and feeling FULLY ALIVE. And I think you want to feel that way too.'

It's possible that some people didn't have a rich or deeply-touching conversation, I know that. 

But people came to me afterwards and said that they had experienced some magic. That they got the sense of 'doorways opening'. That they had goosebumps. That being around me 'did something' to them, that they felt a magnetic force.

One lady told me that she felt like I was talking about her, just to her, as I shared my old way of being around wanting to be perfect, wanting to know all the answers, wanting to look like I know what I am doing, never wanting to get things wrong or fail. For those who resonate with this work, the feeling is really really strong. I think that's the power of the research - because it's so rooted in people's lived experience. Anyway. It's powerful, and undeniable.

All I know, is the more I show up for this work, the more magical it feels, the more ease I sense in the delivery of it, and the more I feel like I just have to give myself permission to be real, be present, and trust the transformation to unfold. It's challenging at times, and I feel exhausted afterwards, as I learn to rest more, to recover, after being that channel, but I can't stop now that I feel the power of being real, and messy, and being seen in my wholeness.

And if I have to do it with sweaty pits, so be it.


I would love to know about your experiences with being real, and feeling 'seen'. Feel free to share in the comments below.

I run workshops around topics like these - please see the Daring Way pages for details!

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Why we can tell when we're faking and what to do instead

Image credit: Juskteez Vu at

Image credit: Juskteez Vu at

On my first coach training weekend, we did an exercise which changed the way I thought about myself for ever, and in the biggest way.

Picture the scene:

Sitting in a circle of about 6 people who met less than 48 hours ago.

Each person takes a turn for the others to tell them what they see in them, and then once that 'round' feels complete, what the others sense is possible in them, but not fully expressed right now.

We end up with a badge which had that word on it, and then went into another exercise where we (all at the same time) had to act that out - really being in the energy of the word we had on our badges. Throughout our coach training, we were often called to be more of that word.

Picture 25 people, acting as strippers, studs, leaders, poets, storytellers, the sea, the sun, grandfather time, wise sages, princesses, kings, queens, bastards and clowns. All at the same time. 

You're curious what my word was, right?


Mine was METEOR. 

It was about bright light, power, stars, magic and massive impact.


Just like that, I recognised a part of me I had not been owning up until that point. But I knew, with every cell in my body, that what they were seeing was there in me.

I also learned a really powerful lesson about how I experience other humans, and this is it:

We can intuitively sense the truth of each other.

My beautiful coaching comrades had seen in me, an aspect of me that even I wasn't fully aware of (but had spent most of my adult life trying to hide).

Even when we have been covering up or hiding, the person we really are, or editing ourselves to fit in, or please, or keep others at an emotional distance, other people can already recognise the qualities in you, that make you, you.

Who you are speaks more loudly then what you are doing to cover up who you are, for fear of judgement, separation, or disapproval.

And from my facilitation of the Daring Way workshops I've realised we can not only feel the truth of a person, the qualities that make them who they are - but we also sense it when they hold themselves back, and are hiding or editing themselves.

We don't know what is being hidden, but we feel the dissonance of a person, we sense that there is more, or that the person being represented is not necessarily the person who is inside.

And that prevents true connection from happening.

Because which edited version of you, is connecting with which edited version of me?

The belonging that we seek through presenting a more pleasing version of ourselves, isn't actually available until we stop editing who we are. 

And when we stop trying to belong, and show up just as we are, seeking to give, and contribute,  we suddenly find we belong in the places where we really fit.  

With ourselves. 

With the people who feel more like 'our people'.

That's 'cos they can see us, for real, and we feel the integrity inside.

And when we stop hiding, stop editing, and allow ourselves to be seen, it can feel risky, because we fear disapproval or disconnection, yes. But what happens when you take that risk is that people feel the truth of you (that they already sensed) and true connection can happen, because the true you is meeting the true 'them'.  

That's resonance.

We can already feel who you are.  Let us have more of the full-on, unapologetic version of you - it's already more amazingly genius than any kind of editing could accomplish.


Does this idea land with you? Do you recognise where you say or do things which aren't really aligned with who you are? What happens? What would be on your badge? 

Want to come and explore more topics like this? There are a couple of places left on the next Rising Strong™ workshop in Penrith, Cumbria, on 3+4 March 2017. We'd love to welcome the real you.