Tomorrow's
Life Coach In This Issue:
Tomorrow's Life Coach (TLC) is a monthly online journal from the Institute for Life Coach Training (ILCT) that nourishes the intellect, intuition and inspiration of the personal and business coaching community. Pat's Ponderings AS I prepare to attend the 12th annual international convention of the ICF, I am amazed at how quickly this profession has evolved. I have been to EVERY ICF conference in the US and Canada, four in Europe, and two in Australia! In 1996, at the first conference in Houston, no one knew what prompted the 187 attendees to come or how they decided to call themselves coaches. It was, however, a thrilling beginning. My business card at that conference stated "Clinical Psychologist." By the end of the weekend, I added "Life Coach." On the third day, I declared publicly with joyful emotions that I was not going to be a coach, I WAS a coach and everyone cheered. Laura Berman Fortgang and Cheryl Richardson were at that first conference, both well-known authors. The attendees at this conference were the early adapters of the coaching model and now there are thousands of coaches worldwide! I am most proud of being one of the early volunteers for the ICF in creating the definitions, the competencies and the distinctions between therapy and coaching. All of this is now being researched and evaluated with glowing results but also leading to improvements and refinements in describing to the public and the profession what we do as coaches. Certification has become more important and a way of distinguishing yourself among those who may use the word coach loosely. I am excited to continue to be part of this profession and influence it in my writings, my trainings, my coaching and in the way I live my life! We are all ambassadors of this growing profession and we need to be positive ones as well as authentic in our service and professional involvement with our colleagues and organizations that represent high quality coaching. And I am most proud of what ILCT has become! We have outstanding faculty, staff and the students I have taught or met in my trainings over the years are the best of the best. (Those of you I have not met I hope to at future conferences or other opportunities!) My original mission statement was "I want to have a profound impact on those I coach and teach so that they can have a powerful impact on those they work and live with." We all can make a big difference in the coaching we do and the way we live as coaches. Pat Patrick Williams Ed.D., MCC Monthly FREE Introduction to Coaching Calls: Have you lost the passion you had when you entered the profession of being a therapist? Are you on the fast track to burn-out or are you already there? Do you want to add another income stream to your existing practice? Do you want to set your own fees and get paid what you are worth? Do you want to revitalize your work, reclaim your passion, and find joy in doing what you love? Join us for a free one-hour class that will introduce you to the wonderful career of Life Coaching. We want to share our excitement with you and give you information that you can use to help you decide if Life Coaching is for YOU. Topics to be discussed:
Dates: November 9th: Click
to register or November 30: Click
to register Pat's Coaching Forum Pat Williams will discuss highlights of the ICF Conference held October 31st -November 3rd in Long Beach, California. Date: Tuesday, November 27th This is a FREE call. Click here to register. Free Coach Referral Service This list is being offered as a free service to assist individuals in identifying and selecting coaches best suited for their particular situation. Click here for more information.
In 2006, U.S. News and World Report listed coaching as one of the 10 top growing professions. The first edition of Therapist as Life Coach, published in 2002, anticipated this trend, and since its publication it has become a standard for therapists who wish to transition or expand their practices into life coaching. Pat Williams and Deborah C. Davis have revised their classic practice-building book for today's therapists and future coaches. Every chapter in this second edition has been updated and rewritten, reflecting the growth of the coaching field and its increasing appeal to not only therapists, but all helping professionals. The book begins by exploring the history of the coaching movement and shows how society is hungry for life coaches. The second part of the book explains in detail the differences and similarities between coaching and therapy, discusses the coaching relationship, and considers some of the skills therapists will need to learn and unlearn in order to reclaim their joyfulness about their work. Professional transition tools such as developing and marketing your practice and honing your coaching skills are discussed at length in Part Three. The final section moves beyond basic life coaching to introduce coaching specialties such as corporate coaching, offers self-care strategies for life coaches, and peeks into the future of life coaching. There is new material throughout, including:
ICF Credentialing Dates - PCC ACTP Application The International Coach Federation will accept Professional Certified Coach (PCC) ACTP applications January 1 through March 31, 2008; and again July 1 through September 30, 2008. This application is for individuals who have graduated from an Accredited Coach Training Program (ACTP). Learn more about obtaining a PCC credential through ILCT, or check the ICF website for other information and PCC applications. ILCT in the UK - Foundational Course, Part I Foundational Coach Training, Part I consists of 20 hours of classroom instruction with each component of learning anchored in the ICF Core Competencies. Continuing practice in small groups with mentoring will occur following the Course via the telephone. The second twenty-hour course, being planned for later in the year, is the final 20 hours of the regular foundational course taught in the US. Special Foundational Course Began November 5th Many of you have read my ponderings about becoming a wise elder coach and the need for wise elders in our society. The following article speaks to the personal side of this as many of us in our 50s and 60s have the added responsibility of caring for aging parents, and the inevitable loss of parents through death. Those experiences give us additional wisdom to share and model for the younger generations, through story, journaling, workshops, or just heart-to-heart conversations with your clients, friends and family. ILCT graduate Toni Clark wrote the following essay in the Washington Post. I hope it touches you the way it touches me. In gratitude, Pat Holding on to a Houseful of Memories by
Toni Clark In the gloss of a sunny morning, I walk the Tacoma waterfront, where I start every visit home. Cold, clear bay water laps the bulkheads, revealing rocks, pebbles, shells and starfish. I think of Dad, gone six years. He had a grin, and a way, that made hard things easier. I cannot imagine Tacoma without my parents even as I realize my hold on them is slipping away. I'm on a mission to empty my parents' rambler so it can be sold. Mom had refused to sell, full of plans to escape institutional living and return home. But at 91, she has dementia and has forgotten the home she bought with Dad in 1952. I feel guilty relief in her latest fracture of memory; we need the money to support her. We hired an estate team to sell the household goods. When I arrive for the first day of the sale, I count 27 cars on the street. Not being able to park nearby jolts me into thinking about the time when I won't belong here anymore. I walk through all the rooms quietly, like the customers who are checking glassware for chips and sorting through linens. These are bargain hunters, but the whispering atmosphere feels respectful, as though they know to tiptoe around family totems. My cellphone rings; Mom is calling from her apartment in the care center a few miles away. I step out to the deck to lie to her in private, telling her I have a meeting and will see her at 3:30. "Oh, you do," she says, touches of resignation and disbelief in her tone. "I'm all alone here, you know." "I know you are, Mom. I'll be there." I like her knowing that we belong to each other, even though when she calls now she often says, "Hi, Toni, it's . . ." I wait through her pause until she says, "Elma." I think she senses we are intimates, but can only come up with her given name. Later we visit in her room, crowded with its few pieces of furniture. A picture of Cee Cee, her Yorkshire terrier, stands in a red leather frame by her bed. "He adores me!" She laughs with pleasure. Cee Cee visits Mom, but only in the parking lot. He is "protective," a dog-friendly term assigned him after he bit an aide and a resident. It is an odd comfort to me that her dog has replaced in her affections almost everyone she has ever loved. He is there when we are not. Phone calls don't lick you in the face. Making sure the dog gets there is the best we can do. "Have I been married more than once?" she asks abruptly. "Are you thinking of Harry?" She nods, looking curiously at her photograph of Dad. She recently divulged in a demented flashback that Harry was her fiance and he had a motorcycle that she had ridden and fallen from."How long has he been gone?" I tell her Dad's been gone six years. And no, she didn't marry Harry. "It's funny I don't know where people are anymore. Who is dead and who is away." The second sale day is as crowded as the first. A couple from Ukraine buy the sofa, TV and a plastic bag full of clothing. I like thinking of these young immigrants trying to get by in America as my parents and grandparents did, using my folks' belongings. My sister, Judy, and I are hanging up clothes for display in the back bedroom. Half of them already are gone, and I'm glad to see them go. Judy says it feels wrong, doing this behind Mom's back. "I know. I keep thinking she will swoop in, furious," I say. "But I think we are good daughters. Doing well by her." "She wouldn't see it." "I know." We continue hanging clothes and I feel lighter and lighter knowing we won't be responsible for this empty house anymore. I hope my sister will eventually feel lighter, too, and not so guilty. By Saturday morning our voices resonate in the nearly vacant house. A bent-over man shuffles in with his daughter to buy Dad's lift chair, a recliner that raises you to standing position with the flick of a hand control. The man looks worn out and grateful, like Dad the day we brought the chair home. In the afternoon, my brother-in-law, Lou, and I clear the garage. I climb into the fruit cellar, a shelved area under the steps accessible from the garage. I begin to hand out cherries canned in 1987, the date penned in felt-tip on Ball lids. Lou sets the jars into a trash bag. "What a shame they never ate these. A waste of hard work," I say. I think it was the doing that mattered to them."Lou's right. After retirement Mom and Dad took summer rides to Eastern Washington, where they picked and bought cherries. Back home, the canning took days. "Hey. This is the last time I have to clean the fruit cellar," I yell to Judy. My mother believed it was important to do housework before we left to be with friends. When she really didn't want us to go, she'd say we must clean the fruit cellar first. It was an all-day job; cleaning the fruit cellar became family code for "You are not going anywhere." On Sunday we gather what is left into bags for the Salvation Army. I reluctantly take my house keys off the ring with the tag that has "Clark" written on it in Dad's handwriting. I have a home and family of my own in Virginia, but when I toss the trinket that used to hold keys to my parents' house into my purse, I feel sad and a little scared. The door always open to me is almost shut. That evening I drive my mother to dinner at a restaurant on the water. As we pass my hotel Mom asks if I am staying there. It's one of those surprise moments when she seems perfectly fine. I seize her lucid time to hand her my cellphone with my husband and son on the line. She says to my husband, "Cook her a good dinner when she gets home." And then she laughs again, like she did about her dog. We get a great table hanging over the bay, and with my encouragement she orders lobster. But soon I notice she is nodding off. "I'm so tired," she mumbles, "all of a sudden." When the lobster comes, Mom does not pick up her fork. I move to her side of our booth and put one arm around her. I feel her, all bones and clamminess. She seems to be fading, vague. For an instant her body feels empty to me like the house that has been so long her realm and canvas. I am thinking it would not be so bad for her to die this way, or for me to lose her this way. But I catch the waitress's attention and signal for help. When the EMTs arrive Mom rallies. She answers all their questions correctly, except when they ask the year and she says, "2010." At the ER they discover she has an infection and start her on IV antibiotics. In three hours we are back in her room at the care center. She eats a turkey sandwich and dresses for bed. I leave her with cranberry juice and a peck on her cheek. The day I am to leave Tacoma I arrive at 110 Amherst St. with my camera. The house has not been empty for more than 50 years and it seems odd, looking at it through the viewfinder. I photograph the built-in bookcase where I used to sit reading my mother's racy novels obscured behind the larger red covers of a World Book volume. I tell myself there is no need to memorize the fireplace, backdrop for every prom picture. But I wonder if I will remember the holiday wrapping-paper fire that melted our Christmas stockings and blackened the wall? Every corner has its memories and I try to be thorough in my photography and in my memorizing. Still I know forgetting is inevitable: Our family stage will be reconfigured for other lives.On my way to the airport I visit my mother one more time. "This is good," she says, breaking off a piece of banana cake and offering it to me. She's forgotten bananas are one of the few foods I dislike, and how when she made fruit salad, she spooned my serving into a separate bowl before adding bananas to the rest. I eat the cake anyway. I say goodbye and walk away but turn around in the hallway. She stands, one hand on her walker; with the other she waves jovially. I feel the warmth and ambivalence I have often felt leaving home and know it isn't lost to me yet. Expand Your Business! Deepen
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Additional classes, details and online registration at our course section. Some schedules may change; check listing or contact Edwina Adams, Administration/Registration, at edwina@lifecoachtraining.com. Where In The World Is Pat Williams? December 17-18, 2007 What Pat Recommends / New Books
Tomorrow's Life Coach™ Patrick Williams, Ed.D., Publisher If you wish to use any of our content in a newsletter, magazine or other media (whether public or internal), please request permission.
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