It feels like me.
I spoke it aloud at the end of being coached by my teacher, Pauline. Through a twisting, turning exploration I’d come face to face with a visual/visceral representation of a new understanding of myself.
Pauline prompted me, What does it feel like?
It feels like me, I answered and she spoke my words exactly as I’d said them, pinning them in the space between us, inking them into a comic book speech bubble above my head.
The words resounded in the moment, returning to my body as a spreading joy and a deep steadiness. Since then I’ve noticed how the statement has tagged along with me. The words in that speech bubble have accompanied the graphic-novel me in every frame, setting a whole new tone for my interactions with the world.
In coach training we talk about the effects of putting the spotlight on the person who has stepped forward to be coached, how it feels to be listened to actively and without judgement, what can shift for someone when their innate capabilities are quietly affirmed. Possibilities unfold as imagination realizes it’s safe to play.
I’ve also experienced what it does for the one who coaches. As I’ve coached others, I have felt the calm in my own body when I receive someone’s consent to hold the world at bay for a while and create a sheltered space, a protected lagoon where they can set out ideas like little boats and see how they float.
I have been awestruck watching each person’s ability to move themself, to consider a question posed and, in responding, step into a new orientation, often incrementally, sometimes in an exponential bound.
Most powerful is when I’m able to do for them what Pauline did for me: affirm their own self-understanding. That may look like me repeating their words back to them or naming a noticeable relaxation in their body posture or reflecting a subtle shift in their energy.
The process has potency because when someone generates answers internally and expresses them outwardly, I as the coach acknowledge them without editing. The spotlight shines on this person’s raw creation and I simply hold up a mirror. The process and its results and whatever the person decides to do next are theirs.
When I serve by offering a loving, neutral place for this to occur, I sense my own words hovering over my head and I feel again the joy and steadiness they bring.
It feels like me.
— Brynn Grumstrup, March 2026
Photo credit: Sean Adamchik