Wonder

Another Monday almost gone, but I promised myself a weekly post, so here I am, sharing what swirled in my mind this fine day.

An important question came up last week during the introduction portion of a Zoom call among fellow coaches. Our moderator wanted to add a little bit-o-flava to the basic lineup of logistical information that attendees were asked to share, and so he asked each of us to answer this question:

Why do you coach?

It was a tough one for me. I’ve come up against it before and always grapple a bit with it. The short answer is that I want to help people, but that’s pretty generic. Isn’t that what we all want to do? The unique answer is about my journey, but who really needs the Homeric response? Absolutely nobody on a Zoom call, that’s who. And so I wrestled. I abbreviated. I moved on.

But not really. The question stayed with me. Why do I do this?

Today, as I walked through my insanely beautiful neighborhood, I came up against another familiar question: What was all this like before we changed it? That wonder has always come up in rare moments of time in nature. As gorgeous as things are here, it saddens me a bit to think of how tall the tallest trees were before things were cut down and trimmed to visual perfection, what the terrain was like before the concrete and asphalt. Even when I lived in Manhattan, as deprived of nature as I was, a Circle Line tourist instructor gave me a new reason to wonder when she informed the boatload of us that the lower part of the island was flattened for all those buildings to go up, while the northern tip’s tall bedrock was left in place. She also told us that there is actual untouched forest in upper Manhattan only blocks north of my place of birth. Wonders truly never cease.

We are constantly engaged in being the best kid, parent, team member, leader, partner, friend, family member, whatever that means to us and however that’s defined by the outside world. If it’s lost to you, as coaches, we are in the business of helping you redefine your “best self” and move toward that, whatever that might be. I’m all in for that. I thrive on it. But it’s not why I coach.

I coach because I wonder who you were before the trimming and cutting and flattening out. I wonder who you were before anyone changed it, because I’m sure that your best self is actually your true self, waiting to be remembered.   

As my walk turned from strenuous uphill to easy downhill and my view opened up to the green miles and miles ahead, it dawned on me that my “why” is my wonder.