(POST UPDATED: NEW YORK CITY AREA ONLY, PLEASE)

You can’t get what you want ’til you know what you want . 

In my experience as a coach, darn few people know exactly what they want and why they want it and how to get it and what they’re prepared to do to make it happen.  That’s why so many of them hire coaches in the first place.

This “want ad” came to my attention today and I thought it showed gumption.  I pass it along and invite you to do the same. I would suggest that the eventual mentor consider proposing a barter arrangement.  I have at least five ideas where the advertiser’s skills and talents would be an even swap for the hoped-for mentor’s time – this could benefit lots of people.  An hour for an hour in the tradition of Time Banks .

Anyway, here it is, and I invite the community of coaches, Facebook, Twitter, to help this bold person prove that if you have the courage to tell the world what you want, you just might get what you need.

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I know, it is too good to be true – but as Somerset Maugham once said, “Life is a funny thing… If you don’t settle for anything but the best, you usually find it.

YOU: 
-lives in New York City

femmeternelle@gmail.com

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Yeah, it’s not for everyone. But that’s the point. This person is looking for a person so unusual and specific that it will take a lot of strangers forwarding and posting and passing along to help one seeker find a soul-mentor-friend-coach-father-figure at $30/hr.  Won’t it be amazing if it happens?

And you can say all you want about how unrealistic, how arrogant, how presumptuous, how inappropriate, how ________ this is, the point is, it’s out there. The person took the time and trouble to outline the best possible situation imaginable, define the dealbreakers, make the ask, and have the courage to trust that the right person will think it was splendid, intelligent, daring, modern, and fascinating.  Who knows, a club of “elders” might emerge.  Or….. anything’s possible.

Why? Because someone dared to take action, boldly and fearlessly.

I loved the movie Run Lola Run. 

I saw it so many years ago, but I think about it almost every day for at least one second.  The director  Tom Tykwer hooked me forever with a little cinematic technique: at various points in the action, a series of quick still shots appear. They show a possible outcome of the circumstances.  The future, as seen in the snapshots, can be ecstatic or tragic, mundane or amusing.

My brain works like that.  I see snapshots of the possible future.  Sometimes I don’t like what I see.

This “Positive Quote of the Day”  showed up in my mailbox back in 2006:

“To think bad thoughts is really the easiest thing in the world.  If you leave your mind to itself it will spiral down into ever increasing unhappiness. To think good thoughts, however, requires effort.  This is one of the things that discipline – training – is about.”  - James Clavell, in his novel Shogun

When I phoned my coach  for our weekly appointment I told her that I was feeling anxiety, that nothing specific was bothering me, but somehow everything was bothering me. My coach asked this pointed question: “What concern or care about the future is causing this anxiety?”

“Anxiety,” she explained, “is about the future.  Depression is about the past.  So, what about the future concerns you?”

I have no idea why that simple question melted the anxiety, but it did.  Perhaps it’s because I truly believe that all is well and all shall be well, that things are no doubt unfolding as they should, that there’s a gift in every circumstance, that we have a great deal of power in the choices we make.  (Your Cliche Here.)

Perhaps it was an instant cure because the question forces me to admit what I’m doing: making up stories about the future, which gets in the way of the precious present. I recognize that, as the director of Run Ruthie Run, I’m the creator of this story and I make up the scenes I see.

Ahhhhhhh. The present moment.  We always wind up back here, don’t we? Because there’s nowhere else, no matter how hard we run or what stories we tell ourselves.

This must be what if feels like to be a book author.

A colleague spent part of her Saturday reading everything I posted here since the first of January.

This is a feeling I have never had before.  I wonder if book writers have this sense of awe, that anyone would exchange the most precious things they have, their time and attention in mass quantity, for something the author produced.

I started to feel a little guilty.  Did she feel obligated to read it because of our relationship?  Did she “waste” her Saturday hours?

Then I remembered that the choice was hers, she didn’t have to tell me she read the whole thing, and she could have stopped at Day 2 without letting me know, ever.

That reminded me how often I have to pull myself back from “thinking for” other people.  It is none of my business how or why she chose to read my writing, and it’s not up to me to judge the quality of her experience. And as I’m not in a position to give her either her time or her money back, I’m not involved.

It’s one of the most significant aspects of coach training: let other people think for themselves, act for themselves, do for themselves.

Coaches don’t assume they know what’s best for clients. They support the client in finding what’s best for themselves.  Coaches don’t tell the client what to do.  They support the client in exploring possibilities and making choices.

I started out to share some of the questions I sent to my reading friend:  Did anything pop out at you that you want to tell me as a coach?  Such as, “It’s so obvious Ruth Ann needs to ______” or “It’s amazing how oblivious Ruth Ann is to ______” or “If I were Ruth Ann, I would ______” or “If Ruth Ann were my client I would explore ______”

And I also asked if she clicked any of the links I spend so much time embedding in many posts. (Not this one.)

But as it turns out, I’m reminded that “what you think of me is none of my business.”  And vice versa, I’m sure!

I am not counting it as “work” when I coach strangers on the internet.  I joined Aardvark last year and I enjoy the opportunity to answer the random questions that people submit online.

This morning, Aardvark sent me a question from a California man who said he was having “no luck” finding a judicial clerkship. I’ve been answering the “how do I get a job” question for decades, starting when I was a television news anchor/reporter back in the 1970s and every day I could count on at least one person asking me ”How do I get your job?”

When I compose an Aardvark answer, I usually just dash off what’s at the top of my head, which is what I did today:

When you say “no luck,” of course you are not relying on luck, right?

Your question doesn’t give me much of an idea of what you’ve already tried.

Have you:

1)      Developed a network that can connect you to the decisionmakers?

2)      Created an excellent resume/letter that is custom-tailored for each clerkship you seek?

3)      Joined organizations that contribute to your connections and qualifications?

4)      Checked your general employability – from basics like punctuality, reliability, references, to personal details like grooming and etiquette?

5)      (This should be number one) Got appropriate qualifications?

6)      Cleaned up your social media profile? Any embarrassing stuff on FB or Twitter?

7)      Asked those who say “no” why you were not chosen and what you could do to make yourself more employable?

8)      Told EVERYONE you know that you seek this work and asked for appropriate introductions and advice?

9)      Discovered what makes YOU a unique and worthy hire? If you’re a “standard issue white man,” for example, you’d better find something to distinguish you from the pack and make you appealing.

10)   Got a Plan B that will impress future employers if you don’t manage to get a clerkship now?

 Hope this helps.

Ruth Ann

What is the psychic payoff for me in answering an Aardvark question?  I’m looking for clues to what I find appealing and meaningful, guidance in choosing my work after sabbatical. 

That, I’m discovering, is everyone’s real job: explore what experiences, feelings, and activities contribute to one’s sense of well-being. 

I like that job.

Having made a Major Life Decision this week, I felt emboldened.  I immediately went looking for more Major Life Decisions to make. 

When I told my coach about some of the MLDs under consideration, she slowed me down like a runaway horse. “Whoa, whoa, whooooooaaaaa,” she said.  “Let’s talk about scale.  It’s not necessary to think about these issues in black and white. You are free to use the grey scale.”

I could picture the grey scale.

There’s a lot of beauty in the grey scale.  One of my intentions for this year is to be “easygoing,” and my coach brought me back to this intention by pointing out that the way to easygoing is a shade of grey.

(Deep breath)

Today I will remember that nuance is a beautiful thing.

Some of you think you’ve caught me red-handed – working.

I’ve had a number of messages (thanks for your sarcasm, your curiosity, your concern) referring to evidence that I’m doing things that look like work.

(Pause)

(Reflect)

(Accept intervention  message)

Maybe you’re right.  I am having more temptation than I expected to dip my toe into…OK, I’ll say it, work.

If this is a meeting, I’ll come clean.  One of my former clients and I talked for over an hour yesterday. She said our conversation helped her a lot. I got high on that.  It was surprising to me what a rush I got from her feeling of becoming unstuck and energetic.

Today when I was just lying in bed, reading other people’s tweets, I saw a notice that the International Coach Federation  Board was having an open call in five minutes. I dialed in, thinking I’d put it on speaker and mute myself and listen like it was the radio, in the background, while I did non-work things.

But the board members who were on the call outnumbered the callers.  I was only the second “civilian,” and the last to join the call.  So I participated vocally.  I admit it. It was work-related.  Work I said I wouldn’t be doing this year.

The Coaching Commons (http://coachingcommons.org) is in the process of commissioning freelance reporting.  I am having a very difficult time keeping my hands off of that. It’s my wheelhouse , for cryin’ out loud!  But my team has been very effective at gently removing my paw.

And I do have some work commitments that have not been put on hold this year because I made, you know, commitments.  I have a quarterly meeting with one of my biggest grantees  this week, and I’m participating in research with another grantee today and tomorrow.

Nonetheless, I hear you.  Thank you.  I mean it.  I guess that’s one of the advantages of making your commitments in public, because you will be held accountable.  If you really mean it, tell people. They’ll bust you if you stray, and I’ve been busted.

Thus endeth the sabbatical lesson of the day.

During this sabbatical year, I’m making very few appointments, but I still meet with my coach.

Today the coach helped me reframe a major life situation in a way that took it from “energy drain” to “energy source.”

It’s hard to put a price on a professional service that gets one from “troubled” to “happy,” but that’s what a simple reframe can do.  Why couldn’t I see it myself?  Why did it take the coach’s observation to shift the way I approach that situation?  I don’t know. I’m a trained coach.  I might have been able to see it for a client, but I obviously couldn’t see it for myself or I would have.

Now that I’ve experienced this big reframe, I can observe the self-replicating properties of a shift. I’m trying to become aware of other mindsets or trouble spots in my life, and see how I could reframe or redefine those situations too.

Where am I stuck and how could I reframe it to create more ease, more comfort, more joy, more of whatever I want?

 ”Sabbatical is the new black,” I said earlier this year, and I’ve been told that a sabbatical is also the new “status symbol.”

More importantly, sabbaticals are a new way to reinvigorate employees, and their workplaces are the eventual beneficiaries.

Compass Point  provides some proof in a new study of nonprofit leaders  who took three months of sabbatical leave. 

I shared this with Elizabeth Pagano of YourSABBATICAL  (a priceless resource if you’re dreaming about a sabbatical, or if you’re a visionary corporate leader interested in offering sabbaticals to your employees).  In turn, she sent me her company’s white paper on corporate sabbaticals.  Drop her a line (epagano@yourSABBATICAL.com) and she’ll send you a copy, too.

I think it’s risky for employers to do this – just like it’s risky to offer coaching to employees. What if the employee decides to chuck this job as a result of my generous offer of sabbatical time (or coaching)?  I have chosen to offer the services of professional coaches to people on my team.  It’s a gamble. Perhaps they will discover that “finding themselves” means leaving my employ.

Would I really want to hold anyone back from their greatest happiness and opportunities for personal and professional fulfillment?  No, I would not, even if it’s inconvenient for me.  I’m committed to helping people tap their untapped capacity. It would be hypocritical to stunt someone’s growth for my own selfish reasons.

I seriously contemplated not putting that in writing.  If it’s this difficult for me to do, I can imagine what a challenge that will be for a corporate manager in this economy.

Sabbaticals will continue to be “status symbols” until the culture undergoes a powerful change.  YourSABBATICAL and Compass Point are agents of that change. 

I’d join them, but, you know, I’m on sabbatical.

Yes, I know, it’s almost the end of Day 14.  I’m not responding to artificial deadlines this year.

When  TED Community Director Tom Rielly  invited The Harnisch Foundation to be a founding sponsor of the TED Fellows  program, we signed on immediately.  The TED Fellows are some of the most extraordinary people in the world. As a group, they become a palpable force, like a life form.  As individuals, one story is more jaw-dropping than the next, each personality magnetic and memorable.

My longtime personal coach, Renee Freedman , is also a TEDster.  She and I decided to create a pro bono program   to offer TED Fellows ten sessions with a world-class professional coach whose skills match their needs.

One of my sabbatical activities: first responder when a TED Fellow expresses interest in coaching.

I’ve been writing the TED Fellows immediately  when they contact us. I was imposing this pressure on myself, and it didn’t feel in keeping with the spirit of sabbatical.  I want to respect my sabbatical boundaries and eliminate as many work obligations and pressures as possible.  Renee told me she doesn’t promise or intend to respond immediately – her window is 48 hours. “I travel a great deal and I have a very full calendar,” she said.  “I don’t want anyone to expect that I will be able to respond any sooner than 48 hours. If I can, I do, but my promise is 48 hours.”

Further, I was creating a cycle of expectation that could only create disappointment if I don’t respond instantly in the future, or if anyone else connected with SupporTED doesn’t answer within minutes.  Renee’s right: it is not reasonable for a volunteer-run organization to respond immediately to the email of dozens of fellows and coaches around the world.  ”We will get back to people within 48 hours,” she said. “That’s a reasonable expectation which we can meet. ”

Wow!  How freeing!  That was so easy. Set up reasonable response times.  Maybe you, too, push yourself too hard to respond too quickly, setting up unreasonable expectations for future performance.

S0, attention TED Fellows: we strive to respond within 48 hours of your email.  Everybody else: no promises.

Are you up for a fresh start?  I’m usually working on a continuum, hoping to improve, progress, move forward. As a coach, I have spent years helping clients identify and take the next steps to achieve their goals.  Most people are trying to build on what they have, not tear it all down and start from scratch.

But now I am asking myself regularly: “What if I just dropped into this body, this life? What am I glad to have? What do I want to change?”  Fresh starts, delivered daily. Or hourly. Or more frequently, as needed.

Zen Habits  blogger Leo Babauta offers his tips for a fresh start here.  

If you could chuck everything and start afresh right now, what would you choose to do differently?