Sea calling for sea change

Identity measured in shoes?

I wonder, if I were to ask you which shoes in the image you think a vicar would wear in church, how would you respond? I also wonder what’s going through your mind right now, as it must seem that the connection to the title of this blog is tenuous. Read on…

They are my shoes, and it’s a bit of a trick question: I have worn all of them - and none - in church, the wellies on one of the most solemn occasions of the church’s year, dashing in at the last minute following a mercy mission to a young seal. I’m fairly certain I left a trail of sand.

There were, at least 26 years ago when I was first ordained priest, certain expectations of dress, and definitely always black shoes for formal cathedral occasions. Once, having perfected walking quietly on tiled floors for the long procession through this echoey location, I wore my red clogs. One colleague said, with a twinkle in his eye, ‘Only the pope wears red shoes with a white cassock alb!’ In this sea change scenario vicar becomes, not pope, but coach.

Yet what’s in a move?

Professional or priestly identity?

I am not defined by my shoes. You will know that, even though it can sometimes feel that way, our identity is not defined by our professional roles. My parish were very accepting of me, my various shoes and boots, and welcomed the quirks of character and diversity of roles that lead me to my footwear choices and necessities. I’m grateful for that. One to think creatively and ‘outside the box’ I’m not one to be boxed in, aspiring always to be authentically me. I’ve explored the feeling of being a square peg in a round hole in another blog post.

I’m sure you’ve not made any assumptions about me or my previous role following this revelation, but I’ve become used to cries of ‘you can’t be’ in various contexts over the years. From a fellow-opera singer’s declaration of dis-belief, having known me six months before asking my ‘day job’, a five year old saying that I must be a nursery nurse as vicars were old men, to some colleagues stating that women can’t be priests. I was also young - ‘too young’ my new GP told me when I was summoned for an initial appointment.

I knew then that this could indicate I was facing a double whammy in terms of barriers. We may be used to seeing women in church leadership positions now, but there were many theological and prejudicial complexities for me and others in the early years as we broke historical ground, standing tall, smiling on the outside, and yet sometimes tearful, frustrated, vulnerable or feeling somehow personally and professionally diminished on the inside. Any of this sound familiar to you? If so, know this: you are awesome - and don’t be alone!

Perpetual gifts

“Intuition is my superpower, and mind reading still eludes me (every vicar’s longing). But this keeps me curious - which is a coach’s gift.”

Fast forward a few years and that young woman became proficient in connecting people; grant applications; dealing with listed buildings (think drains, boilers, leaking roofs, bells, bats and escaped squirrels); managing projects; being a listening ear for fellow professionals, small children and everyone in between; overseeing change; personal and professional development; maintaining a sense of community (and humour) in challenging circumstances; leading in times of crisis and joy; caring for the vulnerable; safeguarding; having deep conversations and helping others make meaning…

Attentive listening and finding the right words when needed became second nature - whether that was the death of a child or a monarch, celebrating the birth of a baby, navigating transitions, encouragement and acknowledging with gratitude the achievements, dedication and courage of others. And also knowing when silence and holding the space between was the most needed and appropriate thing, often all drawn together in ceremonial and creative ways. Intuition is my superpower, and mind reading still eludes me (every vicar’s longing). But this keeps me curious - which is a coach’s gift.

Vocation and calling

I also spent many hours with individuals sifting through the fragile seeds of calling as a vocations adviser and personal tutor for those in early stages of exploration. I’d walk alongside colleagues in development reviews, and more latterly in coaching and mentoring conversations, but curiously - because why not? - I struggled to be open to such a big change in my own sense of calling. Perhaps because, until someone was able to create that safe space for challenge and exploration for me, it was easier to keep a lid on that particular Pandora’s box and just carry on loyally serving the community, limiting choice, keeping going. Because to initiate change brings with it a host of other things, and life was busy.

A sabbatical in 2019, as they often do, offered rest and new insight. An introductory NLP course with Lizzi Larbalestier showed how powerful and valuable coaching could be. I’d lifted the lid of the box just a peep, but light came flooding in, as it does, and a plan began to unfold. Because I’m conscientious, and believe others deserve the best I can give, an intention to do more coach training with Lizzi and 3D Coaching led to my ICF credential being awarded a few years later.

One day on a training call, as a conversation starter participants were asked to pick an image that represented where we felt we were in that moment. I was intuitively drawn to a pair of socks - one yellow, one pink - and we were then invited to make meaning from it. Simply, it represented an in-between time for me, vicar and coach, torn between two roles, feeling uncomfortable. Like a living imperfect cadence that needed resolution. I was compelled to explore further this heart-led call to coach, though not yet prepared for a completely new song.

Aligned decision making

However, as with all decisions and transitions there were one or more a definable moments of clarity and direction. Mine usually involve benches, tall enough to playfully swing my (long) legs. And always by the sea. I was reminded of one such time a few days ago, when this memory popped up on my Facebook feed:

Gig at Perranporth

‘A gig stuck on the beach is no good.... it needs hauling out, pointing in the right direction, and then off you go, even if you are a little at the mercy of the waves.’

‘L’heure bleue. The special time between one day and a new day. A gig stuck on the beach is no good.... it needs hauling out, pointing in the right direction, and then off you go, even if you are a little at the mercy of the waves. Sometimes you need to stop, find clarity and focus and launch off in that direction with renewed energy and conviction. And a willingness to give it your all and go with the flow and non-certainty. Stood above the swingy leg bench for perspective and found my stillness and song. Just wasn’t the tune I thought it was. Now going forward with quiet conviction. Grateful for conversations. The water is calm tonight.’

A growing swell of change following the pandemic called for decision and intention. Clarity and alignment brought calm and purpose in flowing with one of the biggest transitions I resolved to embrace.

By using the word vocation (from the Latin vocare, to call) it could be easy to think of it as a neat bundle that is ours, contained and steady. But using the word calling instead - though nuanced - reveals a blossoming verb, a shared responsibility, and that we are not alone in its discerning and exploring. Calling is not static or unyielding, it’s malleable, flexible and fluid. I wonder if perhaps those who lead with the heart often find it hardest to follow - or flow - with their own heart, putting self last?

Resonate?

“a beating and open heart is one that releases compassion to flow where it will, meandering like a river until it finds breadth, depth, and fresh purpose”

It’s easy to allow the weight of responsibility of being in service of others to restrict or constrict in pursuit of dedication or loyalty. But a beating and open heart is one that releases compassion to flow where it will, meandering like a river until it finds breadth, depth, and fresh purpose. For those currently on such a voyage of discovery, as Aslan said to Lucy, ‘Courage, dear heart.’ Voyage of the Dawn Treader, C S Lewis.

Sea calling

A favourite bench

Overlooking the sea near the highest point between Porthtowan and Chapel Porth, I wonder how many decisions and intentions have been made here? The bench has stood the test of time and weather!

Placing trust in the process of coaching through transition and change ensures aligned decisions and actions, and that you are truly attuned to and noticing what’s going on in and around you. It became hard for me to ignore that the sea might be calling when I found myself drawing in the sand with children and using more and more watery illustrations and reflections in my work, also seeing how this was resonating profoundly with people.

The COVID pandemic found us unsettled by shifting sands and non-certainty, and many were - and continue to be - sustained and grounded by being in nature. On walks, I was drawn increasingly to edges in blue space - coast paths and tidelines, in-between spaces that were never the same, continually moving and changing. It brought comfort and continuity during wider changes in the church, and a clarity and challenge that led me to setting up Embrace Blue, my coaching practice for those working in heart-led environments as helpers and healers.

So in releasing to this movement and immersing myself in that tidal, liminal space, what has changed? In many ways everything and nothing! I have moved from helping people to…. wait for it…. helping people! I’ve moved from curating and preserving beautiful buildings and creating beautiful spaces, to creating beautiful conversational journeys in partnership with beautiful blue spaces, often without walls. And preserving and advocating for these spaces as part of our inter-connectedness and belonging. I’m a human having deep, transformational conversations with other humans, together creating ripples of positive change.

Still authentically me

I’m still flip-flop wearing, still creating, still nature connecting, still compassionating. Yep, that’s actually a word, cool hey? Still authentically me.

And you can benefit from my courageous embracing of a calling to this new context. You will not be surprised to know that nothing surprises me. I work well in the space of not knowing, and never judge a book by its cover. I’m deep-thinking, and if you have big existential questions, wonder, what’s truly and authentically ‘me’, what’s for now, or what’s next, let’s explore what’s not yet known to you. Open to what’s around us and in us we will work in a deeper-than-metaphor way, often spiritual (not religious), not using a formulaic approach, but following where the wind blows and water flows in ways that are most useful for you. You can expect expansive, unbounded, playful explorations - though no less significant in quality or outcome - as we know that not all is what it seems.

For someone who loves and prefers to go barefooted, there has been a lot of sock and shoe imagery in this post. That’s not to trivialise questions of identity or change. Though it may at first seem desirable, in transitions we don’t simply kick off one pair of shoes and step into another like Mr Benn. We retain the gifts, wisdom, insight and skills gained from one role into the now, and in also treasuring the various transitions and spaces in-between - that’s not a neat bundle either - there is much to be learned, as we adventure from one to the next.

Open hearted, barefooted exploration

Go barefoot…

We could talk about William Bridges’ fabulous book Transitions and his understanding about endings and beginnings and the relationships between them. It is a hugely valuable resource.

But I wonder, too, what it might mean instead - at least some of the time - to go barefooted into an unknown future, to embrace our child-like curiosity and courage, open heartedness and compassion? Will we encounter discomfort or vulnerability? Perhaps. Will we find joy, freedom and gentleness? Most certainly, if we choose and nurture it. Can we discover a deeply connected presence, and a creative and safe space to wonder and test the water as our wisest and most aligned self? Absolutely! Blue Health and mBIT Coaching will help you to do this in a wonderful and unique way.

As a practitioner in both modalities I can help you in make heart-led, coherent decisions, and together we can co-create the next steps forward. In transition and change we can walk on this new and sacred ground, and courageously find the way your river becomes the ocean.

Let’s explore and get creative. Click below to arrange a call.

Fear

It is said that before entering the sea
a river trembles with fear.
She looks back at the path she has traveled,
from the peaks of the mountains,
the long winding road crossing forests and villages.
And in front of her,
she sees an ocean so vast,
that to enter
there seems nothing more than to disappear forever.
But there is no other way.
The river cannot go back.
Nobody can go back.
To go back is impossible in existence.
The river needs to take the risk
of entering the ocean
because only then will fear disappear,
because that’s where the river will know
it’s not about disappearing into the ocean,
but of becoming the ocean.

Khalil Gibran