Offering a sort of sangfroid, the music was unlike anything the crowd had ever heard. Notes weaving from the stage slid their ways into the patrons brains.
They … except Marlon. A singular bastion of disgust in a sea of enthralled fish.
Marlon watched the band jump around the stage creating a cacophony.
“I will never understand.”
“You don’t have to! Just let the music take you!” His right hand woman, Aileen, jumped around beside him. “I can’t stop!”
“I can’t imagine why. Instead of dancing why don’t you help kill the vampires.”
Aileen spun away, joining with another vibrating group of club patrons.
“Fine, I’ll do it myself.”
I’ve been writing about coaching lately but I haven’t really explained what coaching is.
I’ve found that people have very different definitions of coaching. In my case coaching is the process of guiding someone to the answers they have within themselves and helping them to raise their awareness around their own energy.
For example, you will be less invested in doing the work towards a goal if you have an overall negative outlook and energy around that goal. Coaching facilitates exploring if your goal is truly what you want, raising your energy and outlook and also setting manageable steps towards the goal you wish to achieve.
It’s something often overlooked. We have the answers to our own questions/problems/desires. Sometimes we’re scared of them. Sometimes we can’t quite connect the dots between them. Sometimes we have to dig for them. Coaching facilitates those processes.
For me, coaching is about what you want and how to help you get there. It focuses on asking questions that are thought provoking and meant to encourage your inner exploration but also on goal setting and accountability.
In talking to the community at large about coaching and what someone needs and wants creatively from a coach and coaching relationship, I’ve been given a lot of good points.
Now I’m asking you guys!
If you were to hire a coach to help you creatively, whether it’s writing, another creative endeavor or bringing creative thought/processes into your job or life, what are some things you would want to be coached on. What qualities would you look for in a coach?
There’s something gnawing at the edge of my spirit
Small but persistent, hidden
Words once exchanged, hasty love
Bought sight unseen
Stored away in dark, cool places
It becomes secret doors
Scraped away in stone
And hidden ruminations
Based on smell alone
Ragtag Daily Prompt: Gnaw
There’s something to be said for catching your dreams
Wrangling them in as they claw away gravity
To find the sheen diminished
The meaning rusted
Oxidized by our expectations
Let’s talk about energy.
We all possess it, manipulate it and even desire it.
Energy isn’t inherently good or bad but our perceptions can color the energy we’re receiving and putting back out.
For example, you feel down, stuck, the world is against you … that becomes the energy you exude and in turn the energy you attract back to you.
Being at a low energy shifts our perspective to the more negative things in life. There can be plenty of good but at a low energy there’s a higher chance you miss it or perceive it as not good.
My coaching is about helping one raise that energy level. A coach can guide you through negative beliefs that affect your perception and help you create new beliefs that support a higher energy level.
This is one of the things that has fascinated me about coaching because it’s something I have seen play out in myself and others.
I also think it’s important to recognize that you have to do the work in these situations. Sitting around waiting for an improvement to just fall into your lap does not work. Additionally, if you perceive most things as negative then you’re less likely to dive in and do the work necessary to get what you want.
You’re far more invested in a positive outcome when you have a positive energy level and outlook to support it.
We have to take tangible steps towards raising our energy and getting the things we truly desire in life.
Coaching brings this full circle by allowing me to help others do the work which I find amazingly fulfilling. It gives me the tools needed to bring my “hippie energy” mindset into a realm of using it to concretely help others.
Hattie almost missed the fraying brown clue blending into the brickwork.
Matt would never let anyone miss it completely.
“It’s a clue!” He howled as he dropped to his belly and slithered towards the string. “Hattie. Hattie. Look. They were here.”
“I don’t see anything Matt.” He groaned and lifted the string between clenched knuckles.
“Right here. They were here.”
“The ghosts! Hattie! Did you forget what we were doing today?”
“I guess so Matt.”
“Ghosts. Ghost hunting. The email invite was clear.”
Hattie gazed at the sunset. Why were the cute ones always so weird?
Word Count: 98
For Friday Fictioneers (I’m getting better at this!)
Photo credit: © CEAyr
“If your friends jumped off a bridge would you jump too?”
Well mom, looks like we know the answer.
In my defense, it was only 3 feet off the ground.
Surely I would’ve come to my senses before diving off anything higher.
You’re not amused. It’s ok, I get it.
It wasn’t in your weekend plans to care for this ungrateful snot you call a daughter.
I hop to the window, wave to my friends and part of me wonders …
Would they believe you pushed me if I jumped again?
Word Count: 91
For Friday Fictioneers, serving up photo prompts, hot and with a side of crazy fries.
PHOTO PROMPT © Susan Eames
The world has been chewing us up
And forgetting to spit us out
I’ve been doing a lot of these random small not-poetry things lately. They encompass the way I feel, like my head’s about to explode at any moment. I tell myself things will get better and I truly believe they will, but sitting in the discomfort of this entire year (or an entire existence) … it’s been an experience.
Slowly this aberration emerged, a plume of thick smoke sneaking between the cracks in the wall. We were no longer welcome here.
As if the stiff lipped fear ever meant we could stay.
A collective thought grew among us, slow and warming, passed in the offering plate from one to another and nurtured with each passing hand.
Who are we to stay?
In the darkness we gathered what little we could claim and disconnected ourselves from this place.
Incorporating a couple of the daily words. Abberation from FOWC and emerge from RDP.
You don’t notice me
I can’t help but imagine
My name dripping from your mouth
A spoonful of soup
Slurped while still boiling
Forming welts on your lips
And your chin
Where I kissed you
Last time you remembered me
You don’t now
But I hope