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“coach certification program”

The Most Common Types of Black and White Thinking for Coaches

It’s never ok to give your clients advice.
You should never ask the questions why?
You should never deal with matters a therapist might.
You shouldn’t promise results you’re not sure you can deliver.
You should never work with a client that’s hard to coach.
You should never talk more than your client.
Your worth and your fees are related.
You should always be good when you coach your clients.
It’s a bad thing if a client wants to quit.
It’s a bad thing if you hurt your client’s feelings and you should avoid it at all costs.
The best coaches make the most money.
Coaches that charge a lot don’t care about their clients.
Making money and being of service don’t mix.
If you have a motive to sign clients it ruins your attempts to serve.
If you raise your fees you’re limiting who you can serve.
Coaches that market themselves are only out for money.
Coaching and consulting are totally different and consulting should never happen in a coaching session.
Coaching and teaching are totally different and good coaches don’t teach their clients.
Every coaching session should end with a homework assignment.
Every coaching session has to start with a clear desire and end with a clear outcome.
Accountability is key in coaching.
Accountability has no place in coaching.
The coaches with the most training are the best coaches.
The longer you coach the better you get.
I should be smooth when I sell to my clients.
It’s bad to be awkward when I coach or sell to my clients.
Being a beginner coach is bad and means most people won’t trust you.
Certifications are crap/essential.
If there’s something in it for you it can’t help your client.
You should never bring your personal life into your coaching.
Good coaches never upset their clients.
Making six/seven/eight figures means something about who you are as a coach.

(share your favorite one below)

None of these things are absolutely true about coaching. Some point to places to start, but in the end, all of them limit you as a coach. A master learns the rules so they can break them. A beginner treats rules like religion and never learns to let them go. Please insist on becoming a master coach.

Love,
Toku

What To Do When You Want To Quit Coaching

At least a couple times a year, I want to quit coaching. 

The clients are so annoying, they don’t want to do the work, they don’t want to change, and I start to feel like being a coach is pointless. 

The money (while good) is unreliable, it feels like I’m always just a few canceled contracts away from being stressed about money. Sometimes I’ve got plenty of prospects other times it feels like I only have a few. 

The work (while rewarding) is super difficult. I have to be the constant stand for deep possibility for each one of my clients. Even when those clients are being asshats. I have to do this even when I feel like I’m not present to much possibility in my own life and in the world in general. 

Wanting to quit is a normal part of life. 

During my marathon, I wanted to quit. 
During most of my long term relationships, I’ve wanted to quit. 
Hell even while writing this post, I wanted to quit. 

Stepping into anything worth doing creates tension. 

There’s the desire to complete the task, to keep going, to do the work, and the desire to get out of the tension, to take the day off, and do something easier or more enjoyable.

Getting out of the tension always feels pretty good. At least for a moment. 

Before the desire to quit shows up I feel this pressure to execute, then a thought occurs to me I could quit! and a wave of relief comes over me. I could be free of this whole thing if I just walk away. 

But of course, whenever I do this I eventually look back and wonder, “Why did I quit?” If I had just kept going I would have:

  • Written that book
  • Learned something about myself
  • Created something I was passionate about

So while the tension is uncomfortable, removing it as a strategy rarely leads to lasting satisfaction. And yet in the moment, it feels so tempting. A temptation I’ve given into so often I can hardly imagine listing all the things I’ve quit, though I can start with a sample:

Acting
Singing in groups
Writing my first book on coaching
My last engagement
Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu
Rock climbing
Salsa
Learning german
Learning Spanish
Powerlifting

I could go on . . . and on. . . and on. . . 

This brings me to my desire to quit coaching. . . or anything else

Coaching as a profession is all about sitting in tension. 

I sit in the tension of my client’s desires. 
I sit in the tension of conversations around commitment.
I sit in the tension of a client having paid me and a sense that now I owe them some form of transformation. 

Like I said. A lot of tension. 

And if I think of that tension as a burden. If I come from a place of needing to prove myself then it’s not worth it. 

There are a lot of easier ways to make money. A lot of easier ways to prove myself. 

But when I let all of that go. When I just remember what it’s like to be with someone as their life and the way they think about the world changes. My desire to quit fades. 

And that’s because I’ve found my calling, a practice where my purpose can fully manifest, a path that demands everything from me. 

My desire to quit is a part of that. A human part. And it’s a part I’ve learned to love and accept. 

So when I want to quit I remind myself that the reason I love coaching is because of the tension, the pressure, and the possibility. 

But you’ve got to decide if that’s enough for you or not. 

So my advice for you. If you want to quit sometimes is this:

First, let go of any idea that you’re a failure if you quit. 
Quitting takes courage and commitment. So let the shame go, it will just cloud your judgment. 

Next get really clear on why you’re quitting. 
Maybe it’s because you’ve decided that you feel called to a different kind of work.
Maybe it’s because you actually prefer working for someone else (which by the way most people secretly prefer).
Maybe it’s because coaching asked you to become someone you don’t want to become. 

The reason doesn’t matter. What matters is that you get clear on it. 

You were creating yourself as a coach. Now you’re going to create yourself as something else. Not because creating yourself as a coach is hard, but because you feel called to create something else. 

OR

Don’t quit. Even a little bit. 

Go outside, take a walk, and remember why you started this. 
Feel the tension of what it means to be a coach. 
The annoying, hard, challenging, tension of it. 

Feel the heartbreak of clients who resist change (just like all humans do). 
Feel the discomfort of asking people to commit to something. 
Feel the challenge of declaring you’re going to help someone change their lives. 

Feel it all and choose it. 
Shake off the excuses. Love yourself. 
And choose it. 

The whole big ball of wax of it. 
And get back to work. 

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to quit. 
It’s normal. 
Expected really. 

It’s why you need a coach. 
It’s why you need a community. 
It’s why you need other people standing up for who you are. 

If you want to quit, do it. 
And if not, choose back in. 

It’s this simple act of choosing back in, that separates those who make it from those who don’t. 
It’s an act I do every day and have to do in real earnest a few times a year. 

Every path worth walking will give you the desire to quit. 
It’s what you do with that desire that matters. 

Whatever you choose. I believe in you. I hope you remember to believe in yourself too. 

Love, 
Toku

The Best Coaching Sessions Are Boring

Don’t get me wrong. I love it when a session with a client is full of emotion. Maybe they burst into tears and are on their growth edge, or they are so fueled up with energy that they cannot wait to take on a new challenge.  If I’m honest the best coaching sessions—the ones that have the most lasting impact—are the boring ones. But this is hard for most coaches to understand, especially new coaches.

 

The difference between swings and homeruns. 

If you want a truly masterful coach you’ll likely be impressed by their ability to cause big tectonic shifts with relative ease. In the world of coaching, you might call these home runs. 

They are:

  • The questions that crack a client open
  • The reframes that shift perspective in a big way
  • The words of appreciation that open a client’s heart

I love home runs. I remember watching coaches like Rich Litvin, or Steve Chandler, or Michael Neil, or Byron Katie and many others. And being blown away by their home runs. 

And I remember going out and trying to replicate them. 

I’d ask BIG QUESTIONS 
I’d stare intently at the client willing them to cry
I would pluck on heartstrings
I would give bold speeches

A lot of this ‘worked’ in that it created a reaction in my clients. 
But much of it wasn’t great coaching. 

Slowly I began to notice something. While the home runs were great, they didn’t lead to change. 

So I went back to the drawing board. I began watching sessions in a new way. 
I stopped looking for the home runs. I started watching in between them. 

Eventually I began to see what these great coaches were doing.
They weren’t trying to hit home runs at all. 

They were trying to take swings. 
They would listen and take a swing. 

Sometimes it hit, sometimes it didn’t. 
But that was ok. 

They would learn from the last swing. 
They would listen even more closely. 
They would lean into the client. 

And then they would swing again. And again. And again. 

With each swing, they would notice what landed or what didn’t. 
No one swing mattered that much to them. Their swings were graceful, elegant. 
They were mostly unattached to hitting a home run, they swung because they loved to swing. 

That’s when it hit me. 

If I want to be great, I need to learn to swing. 
Even when I don’t hit the ball. 
Maybe even especially when I don’t hit the ball. 

I need to learn to swing. 

And sure enough, the better I got at taking swings the more home runs I hit. 

But it was only by letting go, by not needing to hit home runs, and by letting myself be boring that I saw the results. 

So now, when I have a session that’s all swings and no hits, I don’t worry about it as much; 
I simply let myself swing. I feel the motion of the conversation. I enjoy the sound of dialogue. I know that if I keep swinging and paying attention, eventually something will open. 

A whole session of swinging can feel boring. But these sessions are often the ones that create the momentum, lay the groundwork, and inspire the big changes that come later on. 

Please don’t get attached to hitting home runs, or making your clients cry. 
Focus on the swing, the being, and the way you stand for your client. 
If you put your attention there not only will you get better home runs, but you’ll also enjoy being a coach so much more.