From Treading Water to Going Deep

A couple of  years ago, I was having lunch with a friend who I had worked closely with in many artistic capacities throughout my career. He was the first person outside of my family that I came out to as a coach.

When I proudly announced that I had completed my training and was now practicing as a certified life coach, he was unphased. It was as if I had asked him to pass me the salt!

He simply looked back at me and said “you mean get paid for what you’ve been doing your whole life?”

I made a substantial commitment to my coach training. I dedicated 18 months and over 300 training hours at the most comprehensive ICF accredited coach training program available. 

I was the only professional artist amidst a cohort of highly successful professionals that included physicians and CEOs, and I tried my very best not to let people know, for fear they’d define me that way - as I inevitably was in this kind of company. (Life of the party, a novelty, an anomaly, a maverick...you get the idea).

On the third day of training, the word got out, and when asked by the lead trainer to lead the class in a midday dance break, I reluctantly accepted the invitation. Later that day, someone said to me “I bet that was the best part of your weekend.” I looked back at them and said, “actually, I bet it was yours…”

I immersed myself in the training, the study, and the practice of coaching. I built upon and stretched the muscles that I already had, and started to recognize those that had grown strong by keeping me in one place. I started to think about my life as an artist and wondered when I stopped swimming and became a water treader.

It was hard to discern. Effortless and comfortable, it didn’t feel like I was working hard to stay afloat, in fact my treading felt more like stopping to admire the sunset or to smell the proverbial roses. Hell, it almost felt like mindfulness. And I was proud of my ability to recognize and enjoy where I was at that moment. It’s one of my gifts.

The American Red Cross includes treading water for one minute as part of their water competency skills and that it takes quite a lot of energy to stay in place for any length of time.

I had stayed in the same headspace for quite a long time and anyone who knew me would say I had a great deal of energy. The danger though, was that I didn’t see what psychologist Susan David, (in her book Emotional Agility) calls being “too competent.”

“When we get too good at something, we can quickly find ourselves lulled back into autopilot mode, reinforcing not just rigid behaviour but also disengagement, lack of growth and boredom - in short, we fail to thrive.”

Before I became a coach, I had forged a successful career in the performing arts and loved what I did. It wasn’t other people that defined me that way, it was how I defined myself. I had created that narrative, and it was how I became so good at treading water.

My impulse to keep my coach training separate and my reluctance to come out as a coach in my artistic community was a limiting belief that I couldn’t be both; that they were mutually exclusive. I believed that any change of direction would indicate a change of heart, a departure from who I had always been. 

I am happy to report that not only is it possible to do both, it is imperative. Each has enriched and supported the other. They integrate seamlessly and are indeed both a part of who I am.

Those water-treading muscles still come in handy sometimes, but I use them deliberately, not by default. Although a great skill to have when you need to signal for help, the very definition of treading water is failing to advance or make progress.

Oh, and my friend at lunch that day? He was right. I have always been a coach, just as I have always been an artist.  

I’m Lisa Hopkins, thanks for listening. Stay safe and healthy everyone and remember to live in the moment.