The Impact
We cannot choose whether we have an impact; we can choose how we show up, what we bring into the space, and the perspective from which we receive what the encounter gives back.
9/9/20263 min read
I walked into the first weekend carrying a seed of confidence: coaching was what I wanted to do as a profession. Four weekends later (spread in six months), I walked out that I no longer simply believed that I wanted to coach; I knew that I was a coach in my authentic self. Coaching had become not only a profession but a way being.
I started with “I should do this properly”, and by the final weekend, it softened into “right now I am enough”. My real present state is the most authentic place from which I can grow.
The transformation did not arrive as one dramatic break. It unfolded through the gradual practice of accepting who I am and how I feel, rather than “shoulding” myself or imagining expectations about how I ought to appear. That shift required confidence, acceptance, courage, and reflection.
If this journey were a Kintsugi repair, the piece made whole and golden would be my curiosity. At first, I believed presence and courage were the values I needed most. I needed courage to try what might not fit other people’s expectations, and to be who I could be before knowing how that version of me would be received. Yet courage still carried a trace of judgment, because it was answering a fear of judgment – even if that fear existed only in my head. Over time, courage opened into curiosity. The safe space, genuine connection, and unconditional acceptance of my Fellow Travelers allowed my confidence to grow. I became less concerned with proving what was right and more open to asking, “What’s next?” Curiosity does not divide experience into black or white. Whatever comes will carry several colors, and I can choose the perspective from which I meet it. Even more so, I can remain curious about perspectives beyond my own.
Some Fellow Travelers walked nearly the entire path with me; others joined for a particular stretch. With them, I felt connected, accepted, and heard. I also had the privilege of witnessing the growth and transformation of my colleagues. There is a powerful bond in holding space for another person’s transformation: allowing them their own way and their own pace, while being allowed mine. Their vulnerability taught me that courage is not performance; it is the willingness to be present without controlling the outcome. Deep listening is not waiting for a turn to speak or rushing to repair. It is staying close enough for another person to hear themselves. I feel genuinely happy for every one of my Fellow Travelers, and I am proud of us. We are wonderful people.
The joy and gratitude I feel now are not confined to one place. My whole body is overwhelmed with them. My heart feels more than full, radiating energy across the entire surface of my body like an aura. It is an embodied expression of the life-purpose statement that emerged from this journey: “I am the Silver Chakra that illuminates new paths.”
Two allies carried me through the most challenging and vulnerable moments. The first was my protector, Harag – Anger in English – who emerged during the journey and reminded me to trust my gut, as I did when I was a child. Something can look frightening or monstrous and still contain wonder. Sometimes it is simply misunderstood. The second was my Appreciator, embodied for me by Agnes from Despicable Me. She admires freely. She finds something valuable and positive in every person, situation, and experience. She reminded me why I began this journey: I want to give back the support I received when I needed it most. If I can support even a few people, if even one little girl feels inspired by me or by my story, then it was worth it.
Beneath the joy and optimism is a quiet responsibility. I have a powerful presence and a powerful story, and both have an impact. My responsibility is to show up authentically, with an openly curious mindset that – by my definition – leaves no room for judgment.
This was not simply an education. It was an education in being and acting. Every interaction leaves an impact on the other person and on us. We cannot choose whether we have an impact; we can choose how we show up, what we bring into the space, and the perspective from which we receive what the encounter gives back.
Real transformation begins by knowing and accepting what is. How can you become someone if you do not know who you are?
The practical invitation is simple, even if it is not easy: pause before reaching for who you think you should be. Notice what is present – your feelings, your needs, your instincts, your strengths – and meet it without judgment. Acceptance is not the end of growth. It is the honest ground from which growth becomes possible.