When I guide my clients in their personal journey, I aim to bring some structure into the process. When they tell their stories, I encourage them to explore the intrapersonal dimension of their lives. I want them to say something about their emotions, motivations, beliefs, attitudes, the way they make decisions, and how they set goals. I also want them to reflect on the interpersonal dimension of their lives, emphasizing that we are all social beings—that many of our issues concern our interactions with others. Then again, I want them to pay attention to their developmental side. I want them to acquire greater awareness of the fact we are on a journey from birth to death, a journey that has many peaks and valleys. I want them to reflect on some of the critical incidents on their developmental journey. Finally, I want them to think about the existential dimension—the realization of the limitations of our existence and that of others—the way they find themselves existing in their world. I push them to ask themselves what gives their life meaning. However, it is up to each one of them to decide who and what they are through their own actions. I want them to reflect on the meaning of life considering free will, choice, and personal responsibility. Are they really living with a purpose, and if so, is that purpose their own, or is it something that has been sold to them by someone else?
What makes the methodology of the “life case study” story telling approach so powerful, in comparison to the more traditional case study orientation used at business schools, is the fact that the participants are able to question the live case who is presenting about issues stirred up by their narratives. Afterwards, the individual storytellers, having reflected on their presentation with the others—and encouraged by them—often have the courage to take the first successful steps toward change. They learn to write a new story about themselves—a story of renewal. They come to realize that the alternative to being able to create a new story about themselves is despair. It’s the loss of hope.
Furthermore, they realize that they cannot simply unlearn many behavior patterns by themselves. They will need the others to help them “rewrite” parts of their stories. Enlisting the help of others is a highly effective method of probing why they were doing what they were doing and to find alternative ways of dealing with whatever difficult situations they were in. In this “rewriting” process, they also discover that group pressure can be an extremely powerful tool for change. The “editing” of these narratives by the others turns into a very helpful prompt in changing the storyteller’s outlook on the world. And as I became more proficient in this narrative intervention technique, I could see that this group (or team) coaching methodology was remarkably powerful in achieving positive personal and social change.
Applying concepts from the clinical paradigm (explained fully in Chap. 3) to decipher knotty issues turned out to be very helpful in discovering connections—finding out why people were doing what they were doing. The narrator and listeners would recognize how often family re-enactments were responsible for seemingly irrational behavior patterns. As I helped my clients understand better the major themes within these narratives, I would point out the significant impact of the unconscious on behavior, creativity, and development. I would tell them that if they wanted a better understanding of their deeper motivations and their resistance to change, they needed to pay attention to the roots of dysfunction rather than simply deal with its surface manifestations. To help get them to this point, I would explore with them how past experiences contribute to behavior in the present, how they tended to repeat behavior patterns that once were important for reasons of survival, but in their current phase of life had become highly dysfunctional. I would also make them aware how a greater awareness of their emotions, conflicts, and blind spots would allow them to live a much fuller life. While I helped them unravel the patterns that made up their life, I always kept in mind the systemic context in which they would be operating.
Times of Trouble
Of course, group interventions are not for everyone. Some people are better off in a one-to-one situation. For example, people who have problems with reality testing, or have identity issues, or resort to primitive defense mechanisms, may be unsuitable candidates for such a reflective program. Therefore, a key question to me, in selecting executives for such a program, was their psychological readiness. Were they prepared to undertake such a challenging journey? Were they courageous enough to do so? To get a sense what they were all about, I would ask them a number of simple questions. Why did they apply to this specific program? Why did they think this program would be useful to them? What kind of “fantasies” did they have about the program? What did they want to get out of it?
Many of the executives that I met in my work wanted to make adjustments to their leadership style. They wondered how effective they were, given changing societal and industry circumstances. Might there be better ways to manage the people they had to deal with? What should they do to create a high-performance team or culture? Some of them were the “crown princes” or “princesses” of their organization, but how well would they do after having been the leader in waiting? Would they be able to hack it? Would they be afraid to find themselves at the top of an organization? A number of the participants were looking for ways not only to reinvent themselves but also to change their organizations. How could they create a better place to work? Some of these very senior executives even admitted they were bored doing what they were doing. Obviously, boredom can have dangerous consequences for both executives and their organizations. It can lead to risky decision-making. Other executives struggled with where they were in their career. Their life trajectory and their career trajectory no longer seemed to be aligned and they wanted to do something about it. What could they do differently? What could they do next? They wanted to avoid the fear that they had made the wrong choices.
Some executives said that they were aiming for a better life balance. When I asked them to elaborate, they would say that they wanted to be more effective in priority setting. Clearly, saying no was not their strongest point. Many didn’t seem to know the difference between working hard and working smart. They didn’t know how to identify the important activities, those where they really could add value. Dealing with seemingly endless information flows made them feel stressed out. Whatever they tried to do, they were always running. They never had enough time to complete all the things that they were supposed to do. Given the stress they were experiencing, what they wanted most was to have a life. They wanted to feel better in their skin. They wanted to feel more authentic, not always having to wear a mask. In addition, some of them felt that they were stuck in routines, “measuring out their lives in coffee spoons,” like T. S. Eliot’s Prufrock. Many wanted greater excitement in their lives, to reinvent themselves, to learn how to play.
A number of executives were able to say upfront that they were trying to cope better with their darker side, although they found it more difficult to describe what this darker side looked like. I inferred that they were referring to the inner “demons” that were blocking them from progressing the way they wanted. Some “confessed” that destructive forces like spite, envy, and vindictiveness colored much of their behavior. But they also realized that these negative emotions didn’t make their life easier. For these people, forgiveness had no part in their repertoire. Their life was made up of stark blacks and whites, with nothing in between. They categorized people, putting them into boxes. This made them behave very judgmentally. They were notably lacking in empathy. They all needed to work on their emotional intelligence.
A major concern was how to deal with their children, spouse, and other family members. In particular, they worried that their children might experience the same problems they had had at their age. Was it possible to prevent this unfortunate intergenerational transmission? For a large proportion of participants, the empty nest syndrome loomed prominently, and many struggled with how to put new life into their marriages.
The search for meaning was a very important issue for many executives. Although most had more than the means to live, when it came down to it, they often seemed to have very little to live for. Some of them were only now beginning to realize that meaning was important to them. Finding meaning in whatever they were doing, would make them feel more alive—make them feel more complete. Some of them understood, however, that meaning would be an ever-changing target. Nevertheless, something had to be done, particularly as they were getting older, and time was running out. Although they realized that it might be late in the game, they still wanted to make a difference. Of course, death anxiety, as I describe it in Chap. 4, was hovering overhead. The sense of immortality that comes with being young was long gone. With the older generation disappearing, as well as some of their cohort, death had become more of a reality.
My work with executives has often been a difficult ride. Changing people’s behavior can be very hard work, not without its disappointments. It requires tackling people’s character armor—their deeply ingrained patterns of behavior. Many of us are very attached to our chosen defenses. Sometimes, trying to progress with clients felt like treading in quicksand. It could be hard to get a grasp on things, as the original issues that brought these executives to me would morph over time into something very different. All too often, there were many issues behind the presenting issues, creating confusion in me. But my experience of having to work in this twilight zone, made it clear to me that (consciously or unconsciously) all of us are on a quest for answers about our origins, our destiny, and what brings meaning.
Reflecting on leading a life of significance and meaning, you may come to realize that the value of living is not about fame or money or resources, it’s about people and the way you can improve other people’s lives. Now as I am older myself, I know that it is not enough to have lived; I need to live for something. To me, helping clients in their life journey became a very meaningful endeavor. Their willingness to put their trust in me was inspiring.
Eventually, many of my clients realized that their wellbeing would be enhanced not by measuring their successes in terms of their personal gains, but by what they had contributed to the greater good. When you help others, you also help yourself, a highly successful prescription for better mental health. The Dalai Lama has put this very succinctly: “Our prime purpose in this life is to help others. And if you can’t help them, at least don’t hurt them.”
The altruistic motive can be extremely powerful. Altruism activates reward centers in the brain. And as neurobiologists have found out, when engaged in an altruistic act, the pleasure centers of the brain become active.1 Paradoxically, as I mentioned before, when you help others, you seem also to help yourself. Personally, I have found that the most fulfilling moments in my life have been the times when I helped others, when I felt I was making a difference. Like others, this prosocial behavior—this kind of “selfishness”—makes me feel good. I do what I do because I don’t want to live in the kind of world where people don’t look out for each other. I’m not referring only to the people who are close to me, but to anybody who needs a helping hand, as I have also been helped by acts of kindness from strangers. I remind myself that what we do for ourselves alone dies with us, but what we do for others and for the world remains.