People often ask me what I actually do.
And if I’m honest, I’m sometimes at a loss for words.
On any given day, I can find myself working with leaders across the globe – entrepreneurs, clergy, executives, church planters, creatives, and people quietly carrying the weight of change in their organizations, families, and lives.
Yes, I coach leaders.
Yes, I help people navigate complexity and transition.
But the older I get, the less interested I become in the latest coaching fad, fast-track certification, or leadership trend.
What fascinates me far more is how human beings have always navigated change.
How each of us eventually reaches moments when the old way of being no longer fits.
How uncertainty can quietly become the birthplace of transformation.
And how, buried deep within us all, lies a blueprint for something new trying to emerge.
Much of my work involves helping restless leaders slow down long enough to hear what is happening beneath the noise of their lives. Not to give them quick answers, but to help them notice the deeper story unfolding within them.
The older I get, the more I believe transformation rarely happens through force.
It happens through presence.
Through silence.
Through someone holding space long enough for clarity to awaken from within.
If I have ever struggled to explain my work in a single piece of writing, this excerpt from my upcoming book, The Art of Imaginal Coaching: How Leaders Unlock Human Potential One Conversation at a Time, is probably the closest I have come.
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The Art of Imaginal Coaching: Presence, Silence, and Story
Imaginal coaching guides restless leaders into the calmness that births their next identity. Every leader who seeks coaching is, in some way, like a caterpillar on a leaf. The leaf has sustained them up to this point. But eventually, an inner voice speaks, “There is more than this.” It is rarely a loud declaration; most often, it is a subtle restlessness, a sense that the familiar is no longer enough. Real growth requires stillness.
In nature, the caterpillar enters its cocoon not to simply add wings but also to undergo a complete transformation. Everything that previously defined it dissolves so that something entirely new can emerge. In this apparent chaos, imaginal cells appear, tiny carriers of possibility containing the blueprint for the butterfly. At first, the old system treats these cells as threats, but the imaginal cells persist, connect, cluster, and communicate until the new form begins to take over.
This describes the process of imaginal coaching. We do not force change or impose clarity. Instead, we create a still, present, and holy space where the coachee’s deeper truth, the imaginal potential, can awaken and reorganize their life from within. To practice imaginal coaching is to walk with someone through their cocoon season: to hold stillness even when they crave answers, to stay present as their old identity dissolves, and to listen for the quiet emergence of their imaginal self.
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If this resonates with you, I’d genuinely love to hear which line or image stayed with you the longest.
And perhaps this week, instead of rushing to force clarity or solve everything immediately, simply pause long enough to ask:
“What is trying to emerge within me that my current life no longer has room for?”