In this conversation with Rachel Rickards, founder of The Field, I talk about the change from delivering a workshop to listening to a group. It was a much more difficult transition than I expected. It asked me to recognise how much of my leadership depended on keeping control, and how quickly I could lose contact when I felt exposed.
The change I wasn't ready for
In Sydney in 2005, I watched Tej Steiner work with a circle. I had been using a much more confrontational approach. When someone met resistance, my instinct was to push into it. Watching Tej, I saw people soften through the environment of the group, without the facilitator having to drive every part of the process.
Two weeks later, I had a retreat in Bali. I decided to put the group into a circle. I had seen it happen and thought I could do it too. There were thirty-eight people, and the experience brought me into contact with blind spots I had been able to keep out of view when I stood at the front of a room.
By the end, I was close to giving up. What had looked simple from the outside required a kind of relationship with the group that I had barely begun to develop.
My tension is not automatically the group's
When I speak about listening to the field, I am describing how I experience the atmosphere that emerges between people. I notice my body, the tension in my face and the quality of contact in the room. I also notice thoughts and images that arise, without assuming that every one of them means something.
I'm decoding my instrument, which is my body.
That listening depends on discernment. I can feel contracted in a calm group, and I can feel calm in a contracted group. My own anxiety, impatience or defensiveness can affect what I perceive. Learning the difference is part of the work. A strong sensation in me does not automatically tell me what is true for everyone else.
Why practice creates room to listen
A beginning facilitator can be so concerned with getting it right that there is very little attention left for the people in front of them. The effort to perform can close down the sensitivity they are trying to develop.
I use the analogy of learning to fly. At first, the controls demand our attention. With practice, some of that knowledge becomes familiar enough that we can also feel how the aircraft is moving. The technical learning still matters. Fluency gives us more room to respond.
There is no shortcut in simply deciding to be relaxed or intuitive. Repeated practice helps a facilitator become less occupied with managing their own performance.
Finding my way back
One way I lose the room is by becoming too certain. I can feel charged by an opinion, miss the defensiveness underneath it and start pushing my answer into the group. Other facilitators may lose contact differently, perhaps by becoming vague or holding too tightly to a plan.
I need to recognise my own pattern. When I notice it, I can name that I have lost contact, slow down and reset. I do not need to make the group listen to my whole personal history or take responsibility for processing it. Acknowledging what is happening can be enough to begin returning to the work.
The aim is to notice sooner, so a moment of disconnection does not become hours of trying to force something through.
Returning to contact with the group
- Recognise my own defensiveness or loss of contact.
- Name what is happening without asking the group to process my personal story.
- Slow down, reset and listen again.
A team extends what I can hold
There are experiences and ways of relating that are outside my own familiarity. I need to be able to say that clearly. I also want to work alongside people whose experience overlaps with mine without being identical to it.
A team can bring information and understanding that I do not have access to on my own. Naming my limits makes that collaboration possible. It also matters when I speak about relationships: my own experience and preferences can shape what I offer, and I need to recognise that bias.
What I mean by emergence
I use emergence to describe something arising through connection that no individual has planned. It may be personal, when I sit quietly and become aware of something I had not consciously brought to mind. It may happen between two people, as their contact changes what each can feel. In a group, it can involve a much wider interaction.
These are descriptions of my experience of the work. They are not a reason to stop listening carefully, abandon structure or assume that whatever happens is automatically right. Even in a structured circle, there can be room to notice what is becoming available in the present moment.
Facilitation beyond the workshop
My understanding of training has changed. I no longer expect everyone who learns Heart iQ to build a career leading groups. Much of its value can appear in how someone meets their family, takes responsibility in a relationship or leads themselves through a difficult moment.
I also want us to notice when group experiences become something we keep seeking because ordinary life feels less alive. The work needs a relationship with the life we return to. Its value cannot depend only on how intense a retreat feels.
At the end of the conversation, Rachel asks for a practice that helps people lead from the heart. I do not offer a quick formula. For me, this has involved meeting my own patterns over many years and staying connected to the deeper reason I do the work. That relationship with purpose helps me continue when the immediate experience is difficult. It does not give me a finished answer to every situation.
