Life coaching for women

thinking inside the box

I'm a reasonable cook (though out classed by 'im indoors), but like to plan meals in advance. If I have to come up with an idea at the last minute my brain seizes up completely. I've often considered making a list of all the meals we regulaly have. Then when I'm stuck I can refer to it and take the stress out of last minute planning. I've never actually done that and probably never will, but the principle is a good one and as I'm typing it's evolving into a grand plan for writing stimuli! (See how brilliant the writing process is for working through ideas.) This morning I had a suden insight, realising that when I sit down to write, having done no preparatory thinking, I am similarly blocked!

So, here's the next stage of the Great Big Writing BLOCK Removal Plan: I'm going to make an ideas box. Into it I shall place photographs and words, anything that can trigger ideas writing. And I shan't leave it to chance - I shall actively look for the contents. In fact, I've started already.

However, I mustn't get so enthused by the planning that I forget to do the writing!

the write time

OK, now that I know how I want it to be, WHEN will I do my writing. Sometimes it is a sudden impulse, a flash of an idea at any time of day or night and I grab the nearest bit of paper and start scrawling. But if I'm to make a habit, then when? What time of day.

Morning's are busy; I'm eager to check and respond to email and, if I'm not coaching first thing, to get on with my latest website project. Afternoon's are gentler, but often there are coaching clients, esepcially straight after lunch. Evening clients tend to start at about 6. That leads me to conclude that late afternoon would be a great time to settle down to some writing. Let's say 4 o'clock, or thereabouts.

Great, that feels exciting (and doable). I'll work on the finer detail shortly, but now, if I'm looking at 'time', how long should the sessions be? My instinct says, 'keep it short' so I'm going to commit to 15 minutes a day, Monday to Thurs to start with. And I'll think about weekends in a bit.

How do I want it to be?

I guess that’s a good place to start. To try to pin down precisely how I would like to live the part of my life labelled 'writing'.

Well, I’d like the words to flow; like they did two nights ago when I scribbled down the post about questioning. It took one sentence in a book to set me off, and do you know what, I can’t remember for the life of me which of the five books I have beside my bed lit that particular blue touch paper. Or maybe it was Saturday's Guardian. Who knows, it doesn't matter a jot. I just want the words to flow. I want to go with the flow.

Maybe it is possible; maybe it is easy

I’ve been blogging about writing  a fair bit recently. And then, most recently, about the BLOCK. The GREAT BIG BLOCK. Then, this morning, I was taking to a client who is already a coach, though she doesn’t call herself that (S, this is you!), about how she can coach herself. As I was saying this I thought ‘For goodness sake, Jan, listen to yourself.’. So I have. And I’ve also listened to Joanna Young who, in her Confident Writing blog  currently has us exploring what is possible. I’ve decided to pinch her theme in order to work out how writing can be not just possible but also easy for me. There will be a plan by the end of today.

Me, Jan, self-coaching, live, here on my blog. Eek!

list

It has struck me recently just how key writing is to everything I do, work, domestic, everything.

At the core, the maypole around which all the ribbons of my life flutter and dance, is the humble list.

It’s such a simple device for getting our thoughts in order. When I got married I even had a list of all the lists I had.

Not everyone embraces this simple, elegant life support system; I’m always astonished that my partner can do a supermarket shop without any help from the written word. For me though, it’s key, allowing me to safely juggle my way through life.

A list is a commitment; if something is on a list, it will happen. It is a means of clearing my mind, of freeing up space for creative thought and is therefore part of the process of preparation when I am about to go into a coaching session.

The most basic list may be scribbled on the back of an envelope, the most magnificent has a notebook of its very own (see 'wedding' a few paragraphs up).

The list is my constant companion, constantly reinvented in a new and supremely helpful form. It brings me peace of mind, certainty, clarity and a reputation for being a woman of my word. Pretty powerful, I'd say.

Do you know your place?

Regular readers will know that I've been exploring a range of life's elements. I've talked about light heartedness, actual physical light and last time was about the gap between stimulus and response, the place where freedom of choice lives.  Another aspect of a life well-lived, one which we notice most in its absence, is a sense of belonging.

What does that mean to you? When I researched online I found that 'belonging' is usually associated with groups of people, networks, and families. True enough knowing there are people there for us, knowing too that we are there for them, is a crucial part of our personal security, self-worth and self-esteem.

Mind the gap - we all have freedom of choice

Sometimes, we hear or read things that REALLY make us think. I mean proper, deep, sustained thought. Something that resonates so loudly that it remains in your head for weeks.
And it can be something really simple, too, can't it? Here's an example, a thought planted in my brain within the past month that I have been using as a personal reference point and a resource for clients ever since.

turn on the light again

I have just taken delivery of my first ever 'daylight' low energy bulb. You see, though I live in a beautiful Pennine town, my home is in the valley bottom, at the foot of a steep hillside. The rooms at the front of the house are light, the upstairs rooms at the back are also light, but the kitchen and dining area is, particularly in winter, just like a cave sometimes.

Light, both in its tangible, if transparent 'real', and metaphorical forms, is a powerful tool in our efforts to create joy in our lives.

the length of a year

I saw my dear friend and colleague Jan Melloy at Pilates this morning. She does a lot of swimming and she was telling me that she loses count of how many lengths she's swum. Today she tried a new way of keeping count - as she set off she spent the first length thinking about what happened in her life when she was one, next length, she moved on to being two - you get the picture. She got up to age 30 this morning, which in itself is pretty impressive.

dumping the baggage

Often, in my ezine, I draw on my own experiences to illustrate a universal truth, or an aspect of the work I do as a coach. Sometimes a powerful metaphor emerges:

Some years ago I bought a brand new, very swish personal organiser. Black leather, very business-like and LARGE - a5 in fact. I loved the size of it - size being everything when you're a woman who is desperate to be taken seriously! In fact I longed for an A4 version of the same thing. Now, this diary is no light-weight. It's heavy, SO heavy that I haven't been able to take it anywhere with me for years! If I'm getting a lift, then OK, but if I then have to walk home, no way.

Not having a diary with you is a pain in the butt: you can never finalise arrangements until later on, never pass on that address straightaway, goodness knows what great parties I've missed because my identity was, for some perverse reason, tied up with a piece of strength-training equipment too heavy to lift off my desk.