In NLP, we talk about a establishing a well-formed outcome with a client before proceeding with change work. A well-formed outcome is a goal that contains specific elements that make achieving it possible and much more likely than a goal that doesn't have those elements.
Bothering with a WFO does several things: the simple process of making sure you've met all the "well-formedness" conditions (yes, they really call it that!) helps to fill in missing information. Filing in the blanks is sometimes enough for the client to experience more alignment with their outcome right away. Establishing a well-formed outcome also brings to light blocks, obstacles, and limiting beliefs that might need attention.
Like many techniques in NLP, the well-formed outcome conditions seem like they should be simple to elicit. They're usually taught to beginners using a series of questions, like "What do you want?" and "What would that do for you?" Because of the apparent simplicity, some people assume that they should be able to complete a worksheet on their goal and move on.
For a very few people, the worksheet approach is completely adequate. And the worksheet approach is a great way to begin to learn the well-formedness conditions. But watch a masterful demonstration of how to use those questions, and you'll see that the practitioner is doing a lot more than asking that list of questions!
Most people discover stuck places and incomplete information even in their answers to these questions. The questions themselves don't contain the full model of everything required for a well-formed outcome. But that's a story for another day.
Back to what getting a well-formed outcome does, beyond filling in the blanks of someone's goal and revealing obstacles.
Taking the time to establish a well-formed outcome also gives the practitioner the chance to listen, watch, and get a sense of the client. A classic NLP beginners' mistake (and, unfortunately, a common mistake of the legion forces of "coaches" that many internet coach universities are currently spewing out) is to move too early to problem solving or running the client through a process. Doing a recipe process by the book is great for some things when you're learning NLP, but as soon as you're ready to work with people outside the classroom, it's time to start looking, listening, and getting a sense of the person in front of you -- well before you decide which process to use or help with brainstorming solutions.
Showing posts with label nlp intro. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nlp intro. Show all posts
Monday, March 9, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
NLP Class in Austin -- Begins January 17-18!
Best Resources is once again teaching the NLP Practitioner training in Austin!
Take one weekend , two weekends, or the entire 8 weekend class from trainers who have mastery, integrity, and heart. My husband Keith Fail is part of the training team this year, too.
I'm delighted to be a part of their classes, and I know of no better way for you to heal, transform, grow, and revivify your life than to take Tom and Bobbi Best's classes.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Rumi Does NLP
In NLP, there's a concept called the Parts Model. Whether it's neurologically true or not, many people experience the world as if they had a bunch of different parts running around within them. There's a part that wants to go to graduate school, a part that wants to eat chocolate cake, a part that wants to retire early, a part that wants a new car now.
Each part has a positive intention and behaviors that it's in charge of. Even the part that wants to eat the chocolate cake has a positive intention of feeling good now.
Many times, people experience these parts as warring with each other. "A part of me wants to disown my parents and never see them again, but another part of me tells me I won't follow through with it." These parts are described as "polarized." Polarized parts usually have limited behaviors (in this example, the behaviors are: disown my parents, and criticize the ability to do so).
And sometimes, lots of parts gang up on one part. "Nobody appreciates your stupid whining," parts seem to be saying to a younger, scared part. When this happens, we can be incredibly cruel to ourselves, blaming and shaming a part within.
Rumi describes what happens when we start to appreciate each part and its positive intent. Many people describe a similar feeling of "welcoming everyone within" when they go through an NLP Practitioner class and begin to work with their inner parts in kinder, gentler ways.
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
Monday, December 1, 2008
What NLP Has Done for Me
It was very early one morning. Somehow, my husband and I started discussing one of those obstacle-laden subjects. In the dark. While we were still waking up.
I would not recommend this, by the way.
We argued. It reached such a vehement peak that I just left for work. I was angry. Sometimes you just have to take a break and let the old reptilian brain and automatic responses settle down.
I got into my car and started into work.
Now, I live in North Austin and I work in South Austin. Interstate 35 was my route between the two. If you have lived in Austin any time since 1962, the year I35 opened, you know it's been under construction. The whole time. Sometimes, they shut down the whole thing. Sometimes, they shut down a lane or two.
And they often like to do this shutting down very early in the morning.
So, I had a lot of time to think that morning, passing by the grinding machines and day-strength work lights, while traveling at 5 miles an hour.
I replayed the argument in my mind. What had escalated it?
Then, I realized it. I wasn't angry about the topic that Keith and I had discussed.
I was angry about the onions.
The night before, I had been chopping onions for dinner. I was pondering the old self-help cliche about peeling an onion... you know, as you go through life, you're peeling the layers of an onion. Layer upon layer upon layer, we peel the onion.
I was curious: what's at the middle of an onion? Why are we doing all this peeling anyways?
I carefully cut away the outside of the onion, leaving the smallest onion "kernel" in tact. I sliced through the middle of it.
Inside, there was.....nothing.
Absolutely nothing. Onions produce seed stalks, so there are no seeds inside an onion. It's just a little, empty space.
That's when I really got angry. What the heck? All this onion peeling is for.... nothing? Just some crummy old onion-scented air? I've been doing all this ridiculous self improvement yada yada so that.... so that nothing!! For no purpose at all!
So, the argument that morning had come out of my own existential onion crisis.
My day proceeded, and I mostly forgot about the whole thing. I came home that night, and there was a horrible smell in the house. Looking for something rotting in the pantry, I discovered an entire bag of rotting onions. They were full of green stalks, starting to grow right there in my pantry.
It seems that, given that I had had this whole existential onion crisis thing, I would have noticed that there were, indeed, onions in my life for the second night in a row.
But I didn't notice. It never crossed my mind. I took the onions outside and threw them away in the garbage can. I did not yet know that I was, apparently, on the path of the onion.
The next morning, I was sitting in the back yard in my garden and it hit me: the onions were onions. The onions I threw away were onions! I ran to the garbage can, tipped the can over, and dug through the garbage to retrieve the bag of onions.
I knew just what to do. I dug a hole and, one by one, planted the already-growing onions. I carefully watered and nurtured them for months to come.
Apparently, everyone knows what the space in the middle of an onion is really for, except for me. I told this story to my friend Virginia Brodie. "Katie, do you know how an onion grows?"
I didn't know.
Virginia continued: "The space in the middle of the onion is for the new shoot to grow. It forms a green bulb and grows out from there. Without the space in the middle of the onion, it would never grow."
Oh, I said.
NLP is the space at the middle of the onion, the place from which growth can occur. Taking an NLP Practitioner class is like bypassing all the layer-peeling and going straight to the center.
NLP has helped me to notice my reactions and change them, and it's given me the ability to dig through the garbage, reclaim the onions, and plant and nurture them. My life is so much longer and fuller because I can peel the layers, knowing there's "nothing" waiting for me in the center.
I would not recommend this, by the way.
We argued. It reached such a vehement peak that I just left for work. I was angry. Sometimes you just have to take a break and let the old reptilian brain and automatic responses settle down.
I got into my car and started into work.
Now, I live in North Austin and I work in South Austin. Interstate 35 was my route between the two. If you have lived in Austin any time since 1962, the year I35 opened, you know it's been under construction. The whole time. Sometimes, they shut down the whole thing. Sometimes, they shut down a lane or two.
And they often like to do this shutting down very early in the morning.
So, I had a lot of time to think that morning, passing by the grinding machines and day-strength work lights, while traveling at 5 miles an hour.
I replayed the argument in my mind. What had escalated it?
Then, I realized it. I wasn't angry about the topic that Keith and I had discussed.
I was angry about the onions.
The night before, I had been chopping onions for dinner. I was pondering the old self-help cliche about peeling an onion... you know, as you go through life, you're peeling the layers of an onion. Layer upon layer upon layer, we peel the onion.
I was curious: what's at the middle of an onion? Why are we doing all this peeling anyways?
I carefully cut away the outside of the onion, leaving the smallest onion "kernel" in tact. I sliced through the middle of it.
Inside, there was.....nothing.
Absolutely nothing. Onions produce seed stalks, so there are no seeds inside an onion. It's just a little, empty space.
That's when I really got angry. What the heck? All this onion peeling is for.... nothing? Just some crummy old onion-scented air? I've been doing all this ridiculous self improvement yada yada so that.... so that nothing!! For no purpose at all!
So, the argument that morning had come out of my own existential onion crisis.
My day proceeded, and I mostly forgot about the whole thing. I came home that night, and there was a horrible smell in the house. Looking for something rotting in the pantry, I discovered an entire bag of rotting onions. They were full of green stalks, starting to grow right there in my pantry.
It seems that, given that I had had this whole existential onion crisis thing, I would have noticed that there were, indeed, onions in my life for the second night in a row.
But I didn't notice. It never crossed my mind. I took the onions outside and threw them away in the garbage can. I did not yet know that I was, apparently, on the path of the onion.
The next morning, I was sitting in the back yard in my garden and it hit me: the onions were onions. The onions I threw away were onions! I ran to the garbage can, tipped the can over, and dug through the garbage to retrieve the bag of onions.
I knew just what to do. I dug a hole and, one by one, planted the already-growing onions. I carefully watered and nurtured them for months to come.
Apparently, everyone knows what the space in the middle of an onion is really for, except for me. I told this story to my friend Virginia Brodie. "Katie, do you know how an onion grows?"
I didn't know.
Virginia continued: "The space in the middle of the onion is for the new shoot to grow. It forms a green bulb and grows out from there. Without the space in the middle of the onion, it would never grow."
Oh, I said.
NLP is the space at the middle of the onion, the place from which growth can occur. Taking an NLP Practitioner class is like bypassing all the layer-peeling and going straight to the center.
NLP has helped me to notice my reactions and change them, and it's given me the ability to dig through the garbage, reclaim the onions, and plant and nurture them. My life is so much longer and fuller because I can peel the layers, knowing there's "nothing" waiting for me in the center.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Welcome to the Control Booth of Your Experience
You don't have to be an NLP rockstar to use what you've learned in an NLP class right away. You don't even have to practice hard or read a million books. Indeed, that's the beauty of NLP: we're already using our brains and bodies and emotions all the time, whether we know a slip of NLP or not. And knowing NLP puts you in the control booth of your experience.
This post is about how I learned the power of being able to change representation systems easily.
First, some definitions.
In NLP, a "representation system" is the way a person represents the world. You can represent the world in pictures (visual), in sounds (auditory), in feelings (kinesthetic), in smells (olfactory), and in tastes (gustatory). We use these 5 senses to experience the present, remember the present, and consider the future.
Some people experience senses beyond these 5 senses, but that's a story for another day.
Most people use all 5 of these Representation Systems, with a strong emphasis on visual, auditory, and kinesthetic information. And many people tend to favor one "Rep System" in a given context. In order to represent the past and future and to sort through the present, we must delete some information (otherwise, what's happening on the inside would take exactly as long as what happened on the outside, but we can all remember an event and play it back in our head faster than the event actually occurred). Representation Systems help us do that sorting and deleting.
For example, when I write, I like to use auditory information (the way the words sound in my head) and visual information (how the words scan on the page). This kind of deletion is a great gift when things are going well. And when it's time for change, trying a different Representation System can be one way to get more information.
Now, onto the story of how I learned about the power of representation system changes.
Just after I completed my NLP Practitioner training, one of my friends complained of feeling overwhelmed whenever she went into busy restaurants. "There's so much going on in a place like that -- everyone is talking and laughing so loud, silverware is clanging on plates, there's just too much input." I could see her eyes move left to right, the classic pattern for accessing auditory information.
I remembered my teacher Tom Best doing a demo with a woman who had a similar dislike of noisy places. He had her remember a noisy experience and then, just as it was starting to become uncomfortable, turn down the volume. Once the volume was almost inaudible, he asked her to turn up the amount of visual information coming in: soft lighting, smiling faces, beautiful food.
It worked beautifully in Tom's demo, so I thought I would try it.
Sure enough, my friend visibly tensed when she started to remember the last time she was in a noisy restaurant. And when she turned down the volume, her face relaxed. By the time she finished turning up the visuals, she was glowing!
After going through the sequence a few more times, and practicing for the future, she was relaxed and curious about trying her new strategy. A week later, she called, excited that "it worked!" when she tried the strategy out at a restaurant.
When I asked her about how her restaurant strategy was working, she had actually forgotten that it was an issue.
This post is about how I learned the power of being able to change representation systems easily.
First, some definitions.
In NLP, a "representation system" is the way a person represents the world. You can represent the world in pictures (visual), in sounds (auditory), in feelings (kinesthetic), in smells (olfactory), and in tastes (gustatory). We use these 5 senses to experience the present, remember the present, and consider the future.
Some people experience senses beyond these 5 senses, but that's a story for another day.
Most people use all 5 of these Representation Systems, with a strong emphasis on visual, auditory, and kinesthetic information. And many people tend to favor one "Rep System" in a given context. In order to represent the past and future and to sort through the present, we must delete some information (otherwise, what's happening on the inside would take exactly as long as what happened on the outside, but we can all remember an event and play it back in our head faster than the event actually occurred). Representation Systems help us do that sorting and deleting.
For example, when I write, I like to use auditory information (the way the words sound in my head) and visual information (how the words scan on the page). This kind of deletion is a great gift when things are going well. And when it's time for change, trying a different Representation System can be one way to get more information.
Now, onto the story of how I learned about the power of representation system changes.
Just after I completed my NLP Practitioner training, one of my friends complained of feeling overwhelmed whenever she went into busy restaurants. "There's so much going on in a place like that -- everyone is talking and laughing so loud, silverware is clanging on plates, there's just too much input." I could see her eyes move left to right, the classic pattern for accessing auditory information.
I remembered my teacher Tom Best doing a demo with a woman who had a similar dislike of noisy places. He had her remember a noisy experience and then, just as it was starting to become uncomfortable, turn down the volume. Once the volume was almost inaudible, he asked her to turn up the amount of visual information coming in: soft lighting, smiling faces, beautiful food.
It worked beautifully in Tom's demo, so I thought I would try it.
Sure enough, my friend visibly tensed when she started to remember the last time she was in a noisy restaurant. And when she turned down the volume, her face relaxed. By the time she finished turning up the visuals, she was glowing!
After going through the sequence a few more times, and practicing for the future, she was relaxed and curious about trying her new strategy. A week later, she called, excited that "it worked!" when she tried the strategy out at a restaurant.
When I asked her about how her restaurant strategy was working, she had actually forgotten that it was an issue.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Stand Up and Breathe Deeply
That's how an old boss of mine used to start meetings: "Everybody stand up and breathe deeply. Good! Breathe again."
He had been in the military, so he knew how to issue an order that people would follow, even if it was a little unusual in business settings.
Breath is also one important part of rapport.
In NLP, we use rapport, such as matching another person's breathing rate and depth, as a starting place in helping someone get what they really want. Without rapport, it's difficult to help much.
The Hawaiian culture, where I just spent an extended vacation, knows a lot about breathing. The word "ha" means breath and is also the number 4. Ha is in the word for family (ohana) and thank you (mahalo). The word aloha is used to say "I love you," "goodbye," and "hello." On the islands, the word aloha is often pronounced, "ah-low-hhhhaaaaaa," to emphasize the breath at the end.
After spending a month in the land of deep breathing and easy rapport, I ended up back at a typical work meeting on a Monday, on the mainland.
Fifteen people were sitting around a table.... not breathing! Their chests were not moving. When they talked, they were gasping for air between sentences. After about 20 minutes, people began yawning huge, gaping yawns. How did I never notice this before?
Technically, you could say that these folks were in rapport, right? They were not breathing in very similar ways to each other.
But looking around at their faces, they weren't enjoying themselves or engaged, even though we were discussing a project that could save everyone at the table a lot of time and hassle.
And it became instantly obvious why this group often complains about stress and boredom. Spending an hour with your colleagues and holding your breath -- regardless of what decisions were made -- would be incredibly stressful to the body. And not breathing much would certainly prevent you from engaging with the discussion much. It was as if the group was hunkering down for the meeting, hoping it would end as soon as possible.
If you literally couldn't breathe during a meeting, wouldn't you want it to end as soon as possible?
I decided to try a small experiment.
I started to breathe deeply and quietly.
I certainly felt more relaxed, but now I was out of sync with the group. The guy next to me, for whatever reason, started breathing deeply with me immediately.
Most of the conversation was happening between 3 people (unfortunately typical for a 15 person meeting!). If I could unconsciously encourage one or two of them to breathe a little more, maybe the room would follow. Then, I could get some feedback on my guess that breathing would help this meeting become more engaged, so that decisions could be made and the meeting could end.
I knew one of the talkers really well, so I thought I could start with him.
I slowed my breath to match his. Then, I noticed that he was indeed breathing, just very shallowly. I matched his breath for a minute. When there was a pause in the conversation, I took a big breath. He followed me with a big breath. The other two people in the conversation took a big breath shortly after.
A guy down the table yawned.
Somebody paused to tell a joke! I certainly didn't expect that.
The conversation returned to the meeting topic. At the next pause, I took a big breath. This time, I returned my breath to a deeper breathing pattern that matched the speed, but not the shallowness, of the colleague I knew well. Sure enough, he followed me.
The other people in the conversation followed shortly after.
And somebody else told another joke!
After we all finished laughing, I returned my breath to an even deeper breath. Those in the main conversation followed.
The group made the decision it had been dancing around for the entire meeting, and the meeting ended 5 minutes later. Was it really as easy as adding some breath into the meeting?
I asked around for some feedback about the difference between the beginning and the ending of the meeting.
One person told me that the meeting had ended when the colleague I knew well had finally taken control of the meeting.
Another person told me that they were relieved when the 3 main decision makers finally got around to the topic at hand.
Someone else said that he thought the jokes brought a "breath of fresh air" and helped refocus everyone so we could get down to business.
He had been in the military, so he knew how to issue an order that people would follow, even if it was a little unusual in business settings.
Breath is also one important part of rapport.
In NLP, we use rapport, such as matching another person's breathing rate and depth, as a starting place in helping someone get what they really want. Without rapport, it's difficult to help much.
The Hawaiian culture, where I just spent an extended vacation, knows a lot about breathing. The word "ha" means breath and is also the number 4. Ha is in the word for family (ohana) and thank you (mahalo). The word aloha is used to say "I love you," "goodbye," and "hello." On the islands, the word aloha is often pronounced, "ah-low-hhhhaaaaaa," to emphasize the breath at the end.
After spending a month in the land of deep breathing and easy rapport, I ended up back at a typical work meeting on a Monday, on the mainland.
Fifteen people were sitting around a table.... not breathing! Their chests were not moving. When they talked, they were gasping for air between sentences. After about 20 minutes, people began yawning huge, gaping yawns. How did I never notice this before?
Technically, you could say that these folks were in rapport, right? They were not breathing in very similar ways to each other.
But looking around at their faces, they weren't enjoying themselves or engaged, even though we were discussing a project that could save everyone at the table a lot of time and hassle.
And it became instantly obvious why this group often complains about stress and boredom. Spending an hour with your colleagues and holding your breath -- regardless of what decisions were made -- would be incredibly stressful to the body. And not breathing much would certainly prevent you from engaging with the discussion much. It was as if the group was hunkering down for the meeting, hoping it would end as soon as possible.
If you literally couldn't breathe during a meeting, wouldn't you want it to end as soon as possible?
I decided to try a small experiment.
I started to breathe deeply and quietly.
I certainly felt more relaxed, but now I was out of sync with the group. The guy next to me, for whatever reason, started breathing deeply with me immediately.
Most of the conversation was happening between 3 people (unfortunately typical for a 15 person meeting!). If I could unconsciously encourage one or two of them to breathe a little more, maybe the room would follow. Then, I could get some feedback on my guess that breathing would help this meeting become more engaged, so that decisions could be made and the meeting could end.
I knew one of the talkers really well, so I thought I could start with him.
I slowed my breath to match his. Then, I noticed that he was indeed breathing, just very shallowly. I matched his breath for a minute. When there was a pause in the conversation, I took a big breath. He followed me with a big breath. The other two people in the conversation took a big breath shortly after.
A guy down the table yawned.
Somebody paused to tell a joke! I certainly didn't expect that.
The conversation returned to the meeting topic. At the next pause, I took a big breath. This time, I returned my breath to a deeper breathing pattern that matched the speed, but not the shallowness, of the colleague I knew well. Sure enough, he followed me.
The other people in the conversation followed shortly after.
And somebody else told another joke!
After we all finished laughing, I returned my breath to an even deeper breath. Those in the main conversation followed.
The group made the decision it had been dancing around for the entire meeting, and the meeting ended 5 minutes later. Was it really as easy as adding some breath into the meeting?
I asked around for some feedback about the difference between the beginning and the ending of the meeting.
One person told me that the meeting had ended when the colleague I knew well had finally taken control of the meeting.
Another person told me that they were relieved when the 3 main decision makers finally got around to the topic at hand.
Someone else said that he thought the jokes brought a "breath of fresh air" and helped refocus everyone so we could get down to business.
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