Growth Coach

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  • The Lost Art of Noticing: Unlocking Creativity and Connection

    The Lost Art of Noticing: Unlocking Creativity and Connection

    Rob Walker poses an interesting question that we all know but often forget: How much of your attention is being directed by others or the outside world?

    If you’re like most of us, it’s a lot. Just think about what happens when you pick up your phone. The algorithms have become incredibly skilled at delivering the kind of content we love to consume.

    We’re in a real battle for attention, often without even realising it. We’re losing without even knowing what we’ve lost.

    But what we’re loosing is our vital life energy. As William James said, “Our life experience will equal what we paid attention to, either by choice or by default.”

    Energy follows attention. What are we giving our life energy to?

    Without sounding dramatic or alarmist, it’s worth taking this seriously—not in a way that makes you feel guilty for scrolling through social media, but in a way that invites curiosity about another approach.

    Rob Walker’s idea isn’t to stop digital distractions altogether, but to re-engage our senses and make time to notice more than we usually do. Creativity relies on this kind of noticing—seeing what’s not obvious or what usually gets overlooked. That’s where the juice is. Can you become a “first-class noticer,” someone open to seeing what usually stays hidden in the shadows?

    Re-engaging our senses is also about reclaiming innocence—being open to seeing and experiencing the world through a child’s eyes. Here are a few key ideas from his book The Art of Noticing:

    1. Attention is a skill that can be cultivated.

    Walker argues that in a world filled with distractions, noticing is an intentional act of reclaiming focus. By training ourselves to observe the world deeply, we can enrich our experiences and uncover new layers of meaning.

    Key Idea: Attention is like a muscle—you can strengthen it through practice.

    2. Curiosity is the foundation of creativity.

    We can approach the world with a sense of wonder and openness (and be less defensive). By asking questions and exploring the unfamiliar, we unlock fresh perspectives that fuel innovation and creative thought.

    Key Idea: Noticing isn’t just about seeing more; it’s about seeing differently.

    3. Notice the overlooked and the ordinary.

    Walker emphasizes that the mundane holds immense potential for insight. Everyday objects, patterns, or moments often go unnoticed, but focusing on them can reveal beauty and provoke reflection.

    Key Idea: Transform the ordinary into the extraordinary through observation.

    4. Playfulness and experimentation lead to discovery.

    The exercises in the book are playful and non-linear, designed to break routine thinking. Walker believes that experimenting with how we engage with the world can spark new insights and make life more interesting.

    Key Idea: Treat noticing as a creative game.

    5. Slow down to see more.

    Walker advocates for slowing down and being present. When we rush, we skim the surface of experience. By pausing and giving our full attention, we can uncover the richness hidden in our environment.

    Key Idea: Depth of attention is more valuable than breadth.

    6. Build a personal practice of noticing.

    Develop a regular practice of observation. A range of things, from looking at shadows or listening to ambient sounds, to more abstract tasks like identifying patterns in strangers’ clothing.

    Key Idea: Make noticing part of your routine, like journaling or meditation.

    7. Noticing strengthens connections.

    By paying attention to our surroundings, we also deepen our connections to others, our communities, and ourselves. This creates a richer, more meaningful experience of the world.

    Key Idea: Attention fosters empathy and understanding.

    8. Attention shapes identity.

    What we choose to notice defines who we are. Walker suggests that by consciously deciding what to pay attention to, we craft our identities and our narratives.

    Key Idea: You are what you notice.

    Practice Idea: Seeing and the Visual Field

    The Edges of Vision

    Consider the story of the artist Georgia O’Keeffe. O’Keeffe famously focused on the “edges” of natural forms, painting the world not as it was typically seen, but as she experienced it—up close, magnified, and with heightened attention to subtle transitions of colour and shape. This is exactly the point: all that we miss can become a source of fascination, as simple and ordinary as it may initially seem.

    To expand your awareness of the visual field, focus on the peripheral and unnoticed aspects of what you see daily. This practice encourages observation beyond the obvious, cultivating a richer sense of presence and attention.

    Step 1: Orientation

    Begin by choosing a place to sit or stand quietly for 5-10 minutes. Ideally, this is a place you frequent but may not have explored visually with intention—a corner of your home, a favourite café, or a park bench.

    Take a deep breath and relax your focus. Let your gaze soften as you allow your eyes to take in the scene. Resist the urge to “look” for something; instead, let the scene come to you.

    Step 2: Periphery Play

    With your gaze fixed on a single point (like a distant tree or a spot on the floor), become aware of what’s at the edges of your vision. Ask yourself:

    • What colors or shapes do I notice at the edges?
    • Are there movements—subtle or obvious?
    • What textures or patterns emerge when I stop seeking and simply receive?

    Write down a few words or phrases that describe the sensations of observing the periphery, even if they feel abstract.

    Step 3: Subtle Transitions

    Shift your gaze slightly and notice what changes. For example:

    • How does the quality of light differ between the center and the edges?
    • What details come into view when you scan the space slowly?
    • Are there objects or elements that blend into their surroundings?

    Focus on the spaces “in between”—shadows, reflections, or places where colors merge.

    Step 4: Mapping the Overlooked

    Take a piece of paper or use your phone to create a quick sketch or description of what you noticed in the periphery. Don’t aim for accuracy; instead, aim to capture the feeling or impression of what was at the edges of your attention.

    Add notes about what surprised you or felt unexpected.

    Reflection

    After completing the practice, spend a few moments journaling:

    • How did this exercise shift your perception of the space?
    • Did you notice any emotions or thoughts arise as you focused on the periphery?
    • What might this say about how you navigate the world beyond your visual field?

    Remember, noticing is an act of curiosity and care. By exploring the edges of your vision, you open yourself to seeing the overlooked beauty that surrounds you.

  • The Healing Power of Writing About Traumatic Experiences

    The Healing Power of Writing About Traumatic Experiences

    Trauma is an unfortunate part of life that touches everyone in some way. Whether it’s the loss of a loved one, a painful relationship, or childhood events that left a lasting impact, the weight of these experiences can feel overwhelming. What’s surprising is that one of the most powerful tools for healing might already be within our reach—writing.

    Writing about traumatic experiences is not just an emotional outlet; it’s a scientifically backed method of improving both mental and physical health. Numerous studies in the field of psychoneuroimmunology have shown that expressive writing can positively impact our immune system, reduce stress, and even change the way we think and feel about past events.

    Why Keeping Secrets Can Harm Us

    When we experience trauma, many of us feel the urge to keep it hidden. We might not want to burden others, or we might fear judgment. But holding in secrets comes at a cost. Psychologically, suppressing emotions can lead to increased anxiety, disturbing dreams, and even cognitive disruptions. Physically, keeping secrets is a form of chronic stress that can raise our heart rate, increase perspiration, and over time, weaken our immune system.

    It’s like a pressure valve—keeping trauma locked inside means our mind and body are constantly working to contain it. This internal work takes energy and resources that could otherwise be used to maintain our health and well-being.

    The Benefits of Expressive Writing

    On the flip side, expressing those emotions—whether through writing or talking—can relieve that pressure. Studies have shown that people who write about their deepest thoughts and feelings regarding traumatic experiences experience measurable health improvements, both immediately and over time. Their immune systems function better, they visit doctors less frequently, and they report feeling more emotionally grounded.

    But it’s not just about venting. In fact, simply “blowing off steam” without reflecting on what happened can sometimes make things worse. What makes expressive writing so effective is the opportunity to process, understand, and organize our thoughts and emotions. When we write, we translate our experiences into language, which helps us make sense of them. We can begin to see the event from different perspectives, reframe it, and eventually assimilate it into our broader life story.

    Scientific Evidence Supporting Writing

    A groundbreaking study involving college students revealed the profound impact of expressive writing on the immune system. Students who wrote about their deepest emotions related to a trauma showed enhanced immune function compared to those who wrote about superficial topics. These students’ health center visits also decreased, indicating that writing about traumas can promote physical health.

    The long-term benefits of this process can be even more impressive. People who engage in expressive writing often report increased self-understanding, emotional clarity, and even a sense of peace about the events they wrote about. As one study participant said, “It helped me think about what I felt during those times. I never realized how it affected me before. I had to think and resolve past experiences.”

    How Does Writing Help Us Heal?

    So, what exactly happens when we write about our traumatic experiences?

    1. Reduced Biological Stress: Holding back emotions requires mental and physical energy, which adds to our stress levels. When we express those emotions, the immediate stress response is reduced.
    2. Improved Cognitive Processing: Writing helps us organize our thoughts. When we put an emotional experience into words, we can process it more effectively. This allows us to understand it better, and, in turn, heal from it.
    3. Long-Term Emotional Insight: Writing forces us to confront the trauma in a constructive way. We gain insights into how the event affected us, helping us to process it and move forward.
    4. Integration of Experience: By making sense of the event through writing, we can integrate the trauma into our life story, reducing its hold over us. This doesn’t erase the pain, but it gives us control over how we think and feel about it.

    A Practical Exercise in Expressive Writing

    Now that you understand the value of writing about traumatic experiences, here’s a practical exercise to help you get started. You don’t need any special tools—just a quiet space, some paper, and a pen, or even your laptop. Follow the steps below:

    Step 1: Create a Safe Space
    Find a quiet place where you won’t be interrupted for about 20 to 30 minutes. It’s important to feel safe and relaxed when diving into emotional work.

    Step 2: Choose a Topic
    Think of a distressing or traumatic experience that has weighed heavily on your mind. This could be something recent or a long-buried memory. It’s essential to choose something you feel ready to explore emotionally.

    Step 3: Start Writing
    Set a timer for 20 minutes and write continuously. Don’t worry about grammar, spelling, or how well-written it is. The goal is to express your deepest emotions and thoughts about the event. Let the words flow, and allow yourself to be completely honest. Dive into the emotions—what did you feel? How did this event shape you? What were your thoughts during and after it happened?

    Step 4: Let Yourself Feel
    After writing, it’s normal to feel a bit emotionally drained. You may feel sadness or relief, depending on the topic. Remember, this is part of the healing process. If the writing becomes too overwhelming at any point, stop, take a few deep breaths, and return when you feel ready. You can also change the topic if needed.

    Step 5: Reflect
    After finishing the exercise, take a few moments to reflect. How do you feel now compared to before you started writing? Are there new insights about the event or your emotions that surfaced during the process? These reflections can help deepen the benefits of the writing exercise.

    Step 6: Repeat
    If you found this exercise helpful, consider repeating it over the next few days or weeks. Writing about the same event multiple times can often lead to deeper insights and emotional resolution.

    Final Thoughts

    Expressive writing is a powerful tool that can help us process trauma, understand our emotions, and promote both mental and physical health. The key is to approach the process with openness and honesty. While the initial experience of writing about difficult events may stir up emotions, the long-term benefits—including insight, healing, and peace of mind—are well worth the effort.

    Start small, be gentle with yourself, and trust in the power of your own words. You might be surprised at just how transformative writing can be.

    This post was inspired by: Pennebaker, James W.; Smyth, Joshua M.. Opening Up by Writing It Down: How Expressive Writing Improves Health and Eases Emotional Pain

  • For the love of movement

    For the love of movement

    In movement, we engage in a kind of alchemy of the past. We come into relation with ourselves, not as we want to be but as we actually are. This can be a very sobering coming home because we become aware of things we weren’t so connected to before.

    Way back when and all the way to now, we shut off those difficult experiences because they were too much, and no one was there to guide us. We had to learn to close off, to numb out, to disconnect in any way we could. Yet, those strategies did nothing to help the parts of us that got locked out.

    In movement, though, we can safely enter those places that are undigested, unresolved, and calling out for the light of awareness. I have been taught that being alone in your pain is not the same as being witnessed in it. There is something in the witnessing that allows us to release in a different way, as if we are longing to be seen in our whole being. Arguably, allowing that kind of seeing in is what heals us. We get the message from the outside that we’re okay, even in the worst of it.

    We really are okay even if we don’t feel that way. When we open to what we are a part of, there is no other option but to heal. Healing not as a deliberate act but rather a consequence of letting in that connectedness. Remembering a little at a time where we come from, what we are connected to, and what moves us. Not what we think should excite us, but what actually does. And it’s the body that tells us, that carries this truth to what author, Robert Greene calls our primal inclination—the thing that we don’t need to second guess; it just feels right.

    I came to dance in my twenties, at a time in my life when I was very shut down. I had chronic fatigue that I could not shake no matter how much I tried. Nothing worked, and few doctors had anything sensible to tell me. Movement for me was probably the first medicine that actually started to work. Not that there were overnight changes, but slowly, over time, I began to get into the hard-to-reach places and thaw some of the numb, shut down, frozen parts in me. It was this quality of movement that invited me to move with how I actually was, and not how I wanted to be, that made it possible to be with myself in a kinder way. It was the discovery of this kindness that I think, more than anything else, allowed the illness to move.

    How to Dance?

    If it’s not something you do often, it’s easy to start. Take any music you like and match it with your mood. If you feel down, don’t go straight to the upbeat stuff. Start where you are, letting go of any expectation for it to be different. You can make as many “mistakes” as you like, only to see that the only real mistake is to stay still. Follow your body, include your whole body, and be curious. Start with just a few minutes, anywhere, anytime.

  • Inside (and out) of the drama triangle

    Inside (and out) of the drama triangle

    Why its a foundational map everyone should know

    I’m often surprised how easy it is to slip into the drama triangle. The allure of the victim, the sudden pull of the villain or the griping impulse to be the hero. Each comes with it’s appeal, and gives a feeling of identity. I am this person who was wronged, or  I am the one who has to save the situation.  The problem isn’t  that we play these characters, its when we don’t know we do.

    We’ve all been there – stuck in a cycle of drama, finger-pointing and disempowerment. Whether it’s with a partner, coworker or friend, you may find yourself slipping into one of three toxic roles: the Victim, Persecutor (Villain)  or Rescuer (Hero). This is the drama triangle (first described by Stephen Karpman in the 1960s), and it keeps us trapped in repeating patterns. We can become totally lost in these  behaviours that ultimately drain vital life energy.

    How it works: The Victim feels powerless, blameless and at the mercy of circumstances. “Poor me, nothing’s my fault”, or it can be a lot subtler than this. The Villain points fingers, blames, criticises and puts others down.  “You did it!” And the Hero tries to “save the day” or fix the other two, while disempowering them further.

    Even if you have an awareness of how these play out in you, to me it’s a never ending job that doesn’t  not need to be fun or at the least entertaining.  Even in the most serious  moments we can still access some humour. Start by noticing when you slip into one of these roles. Is the helpless, helpless Victim voice taking over? “I just can’t do this, it’s impossible!” Or the bullying, blaming Persecutor? “This is a disaster because of your incompetence!” If so, pause. Breathe. Slow it down and bring some awareness to this part of you. Try be curious about it.

    You’re also acknowledging that its just a part of you. Its not out there, we do a U-turn and and see it  in ourselves. We can be interested in what’s actually happening. How are your actions (or inactions) contributing to the situation? Often there are valid fears, old wounds or unmet needs driving these roles. 

    Here’s an example: Sam erupted at his wife for leaving dishes in the sink. Villain, pointing fingers and making her wrong. But upon reflection, Sam realised he was defensive because he felt unappreciated and disrespected by her lack of effort (unmet need). His outburst was a cry for more consideration.

    Once you have that self-awareness, you can communicate your experience more clearly. Sam could say: “Dear, I get triggered when I see dishes piling up because it makes me feel disrespected and like my efforts don’t matter..”

    This is the antidote to the triangle: being vulnerable, sharing your perspective with “I” statements, and making requests for what you need. No Persecutors, no Victims. Just two humans working through life together.

    Of course, old habits die hard. Sam may still slip into drama roles. But with practice, he can catch himself sooner. “Ah, there’s that blaming Persecutor voice again. What’s really going on here?” Staying present with your experience.

    The triangle is seductive because it lets us think we’re justified in feeling powerless or lashing out. But it’s ultimately a distraction – an avoidance of taking responsibility or getting our real needs met. As we exit the triangle, we also see what changes are needed in us to create better outcomes ?

    In addition to the story in the mind, each role also has a somatic pattern. Bringing attention to the body is key. We notice what happens in the body as we play different parts. Where do you feel contractions or tension ? What is it like to stay a few moments with those sensations? and keep noticing …

    The Victim

    Energetically, playing the archetypal Victim feels defeated, collapsed and hopeless. There’s a sunken chest, slumped shoulders and lack of vital life force. You may notice shallow breathing, lack of grounding and feeling cut off from your centre.

    To work with this pattern somatically, start by consciously breathing into your body. Notice any held areas and breathe into them with curiosity. Gently engage your core by laying one hand on your belly. 

    As your breath deepens, you may feel a sense of being anchored in yourself, embodied rather than spaced out or overwhelmed. Stay present with physical sensations, letting the story in the mind fall away.

    The Villain

    When the Villain takes over, feel the tension and stuckness. There might be a tightness in the jaw, chest and shoulders as you prepare for battle. The body is braced, heart rate elevated and breath constricted. You’re flooded with stress hormones, ready to fight.

    One way to shift this pattern, is to slow your breath down and exhale longer than you inhale. Let your belly fully release with each out-breath. Unclench your hands and relax your face and tongue. Feel your jaw softening. Shake out any residual muscular armouring.  Alternatively,  let it get stronger, exaggerate the sensations and allow yourself to explore what movement wants to come here.

    As you stay present with the physical experience, you’ll notice in time things start to settle.

    The Hero (rescuer)

    Playing the Rescuer can keep one stuck in a kind of anxious overdrive. There’s a buzzing, hyper-aroused quality as you try to fix and save everyone else. You may be speaking quickly, mentally spinning and engaging in shallow chest breathing.  Many of these sensations may also overlap with the other roles.

    To ground and reorient, bring focus to the base of your spine and imagine sending roots deep into the earth below you. Breathe slowly into your low belly. Relax your shoulders and sense the earth beneath your feet. Peta Levine also suggests the “Voo” sound as way to regulate.  

    From this embodied state we can feel into and become aware of the  right amount of help needed for the situation. Also noting that the hero can also show up  as a distracting force,  rescuing us from uncomfortable emotions. Like being on social media too long, or watching endless TV series etc.

    The key is using the breath and body awareness as an anchor to what’s really  happening, we begin to see through the drama to reality as it is.

    The drama triangle is one of life’s most ubiquitous traps. But we all have the power to step out of the cycle into awareness. Its the game of being able to be in beginners mind, which always notices with curiosity as we’re in the patterns we don’t like to see.

  • What if you gave up on the idea of change?

    What if you gave up on the idea of change?

    Embracing Responsibility Without Forcing Change

    What if there really wasn’t a problem to solve? What if everything as it is right now is all okay? How would that feel?

    When I try that idea on, my resistance comes on strong. What do you mean, no change? How on earth could it all be okay like this? I need to work for it to be better. There are so many things in my mind that need changing; it couldn’t possibly be okay like this. What about my agitation, anxiety, and apathy? That surely needs to change, right? Or what about the anger and frustrations I hold? That, too, must be a good candidate to put through recycling. All in all, I have work to do and better get to it! No time to waste.  That’s the director  in me right,  that strong voice that tells me I’m not even close to good enough without all these changes.   Renowned coach Jerry Colonna calls it the crow on his shoulder that doesn’t let up easily. Even this voice can be included as part of the phenomenon of unneeded change if we understand that its undertone is about safety and belonging.

    Notice what’s already changing. Life is change; it’s always changing. The one universal law we can count on is that change is constant. Without us needing change, we look around and change is happening. The problem is, it’s often not happening in the ways and timings we want.

    Imagine for a moment that you didn’t need to change. What’s that like to take that level of pressure off? And what if there was no problem with the worst of how you are—even that didn’t need to change. What if even the parts of you that you feel hold you back don’t need to change?  Notice how that feels to let yourself be in  your present imperfect shape.

    It’s a radically different way for those who have been in the change game long enough, undertaking endless workshops and change making processes. When I was young, I took all kinds of courses, some even going far enough as to promise enlightenment. When I look back at the common thread, I was almost always looking for ways to change. And it was often coming from a lack of acceptance for myself, and the conditions of my life.

    I am looking at change from a very different lens now, one that does not have the outcome in mind as a starting point. Well, you might say, what is the point of doing anything then? May as well just give up, if this is the person who I must accept. And that is my point—that’s like going to see a movie and disagreeing with the characters. He or she shouldn’t be like that. They’re not even close to good enough; they should definitely show up differently. That would be ludicrous, right? We don’t expect characters in stories to be different. Why hold that idea towards ourselves?

    What if you knew that you were good in your essence? Naturally like the rest of us—human and flawed but basically good. And at the essence, nothing you did or didn’t do would take away from that goodness.

    Now let’s look at the idea of radical responsibility, an idea I borrow from Diana Chapman. She says, in almost all situations, no matter the challenge, we can ask ourselves who we need to be in order to create a better outcome. For instance, you feel your partner doesn’t listen to you, or maybe understand you. Well, you could either put the pressure on them to change, or you could take a more radical approach and ask yourself who you would need to become in order for your partner/friend/colleague/boss, etc. to listen to you.  Its kinda crazy right, your boss doesn’t acknowledge your efforts, no problem;  what’s the change  in me that’s needed, not them ..

    Granted, you may become that person and they still legitimately don’t listen or change their behaviour. Then, stepping into those new shoes, maybe it’s more about listening and understanding yourself. This allows you to communicate your needs in a clear and non-reactive way. Or, who knows, it could be this newfound responsibility of becoming someone worth listening to that gets you airtime in unexpected places. The point is not making it about the other is a radical move.

    But then, what’s all this about not needing to change? How does that play into the world of responsibility and becoming?

    I think the most important task we have is to hold both as equally true. It’s true that we are fine the way we are, and it’s also true that we must change. Not necessarily because our aspirations for personal growth demand it, but rather because it is the very fabric of life. We must change and keep changing, because as we allow the change that naturally wants to happen, we move with life. But its not from force, judgement or any echo of the crow on your shoulder. I love Bruce Lee’s analogy “be like water.” Water is the ultimate shapeshifter.

    So, if not being listened to is your trigger, you might actually trick yourself into looking forward to the next time they don’t listen to you. Why? Because it tests you to see both how responsible you can be and also equally compassionate with yourself.

    Here are some practical steps to integrate responsibility and change:

    1. Mindful Self-Reflection:
      • Practice mindfulness during self-reflection. Observe your thoughts and actions without judgment, focusing on learning rather than self-punishment (or  the crow on your shoulder)
      • Practice: Set aside time daily for mindful reflection. Notice any harsh self-talk and consciously soften, and invite compassionate awareness.
    2. Gentle Goal-Setting:
      • Set realistic and compassionate goals that honour your current abilities and limitations.
      • Practice: When setting goals, ensure they are achievable and allow for mistakes. If a goal isn’t met, reflect on what you learned rather than leaning into the critic.
    3. Curiosity Over Judgment
      • Approach situations and feedback with curiosity instead of judgment. Ask “What can I learn?” rather than “What did I do wrong?”
      • Practice: In moments of disappointment or challenge, pause and ask yourself questions that promote understanding and growth.
    4. Self-Acceptance in Responsibility:
      • Accept your current state while taking responsibility for your actions. Recognise that growth is a process that doesn’t have an end point. We never actually get there!
      • Practice: Regularly affirm your worth and progress, even if it’s small. Celebrate your efforts and learnings as part of your journey.