Perspectives of personal growth E-Book

Corina Wyler

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Ratgeber
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 133

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

The book project "Perspectives of personal growth. A small coaching narrative" is a non-fiction book about personal growth and about the own perspective of Swiss professionals in the field of coaching, therapy and mediation regarding professional help in this area. What is personal growth? Every person defines it differently. However, many desire to be a better person and/or find fulfillment in certain areas of life. Yet, what many people forget or do not know is that some difficulties in our lives are shaped by situations in the past or present. In order to grow personally, one must go on a journey of discovery. Sometimes traumas come to light that then need to be dealt with, sometimes they are simply additional intrinsic resources that need to be uncovered. This book is intended to encourage people to embark on their journey of discovery. It is divided into two parts: The first part is a "fable for adults about personal growth and coaching", and the second part contains thoughts from various professionals on the topic of personal growth and the given disciplines. The reader should be surprised to read with the eyes of an adult and the heart of a child. The story is deliberately kept as a fable, so as not to trigger the reader too much and to allow a safe discovery of the subject matter. In the second part, the reader can then get an idea of how coaching, psychotherapy or mediation are lived in Switzerland. The co-authors in the second part are all qualified professionals in their fields and all work in Switzerland.

Leseprobe

To my little angel ...fly into the light.

Love you too,

your daughter Corina

Table of contents

Foreword by the author

PART 1

The fable. Milou, the kitten who wished to be a cat

1. Purring and attentive little ears2. My family3. The girl who feared she had no heart4. A cat can’t be a dog, no matter how hard she tries5. The stray dog who longed for a home6. The meeting with the architect. The beginning of how I found out who I was7. The leopard in me8. The farmer who wanted to become a street musician9. The meerkat lady10. Apple Time11. The past, the present and the future12. Vanilla and lavender scented soap and the gardens of the heart13. Dreaming about your own life14. You and I are two sides of the same coin, Milou

PART 2

Thoughts from various professionals on the topic of personal growth and how coaching, mediation, and psychotherapy can help us achieve it

I. Thoughts by Corina Wyler, author of this small book, ICF PCC and ECA coach, IHK person-oriented painting therapistII. Charles and Doris Meyer, systemic coaches with solution-oriented trauma therapy approachIII. Giuseppe Cassata, certified mediator and systemic coach

Acknowledgement

Further reading

Small glossary

The author

Foreword by the author

I started writing this modern fable partly for fun and partly for my own personal growth during the second lockdown of COVID-19, and I’m glad to see that some of the readers now have it in their hands.

It is written in a very simple way to inspire an audience of diverse people to daydream, think, and feel.

I would like to preface this book by saying that I am not a professional writer. However, every line in this book has been written from my heart until the very end.

In prefacing this, I do not want to go into my motives and intentions, nor do I want to spoil the plot. My wish is for you to remain curious and open to discovery throughout the reading of this book... perhaps even beyond the book.

Allow yourself to be surprised as you read with the eyes of an adult and the heart of a child.

One last point of a logistical nature. This little book is divided into several sections. On one side you will find the fable (Part 1), on the other side you will find a section with some views of some of my colleagues and myself on the subject (Part 2). Finally, at the end of the book is a glossary section with some of the technical terms used in the book.

Now it only remains for me to wish you a good and hopefully entertaining read.

Yours Corina Wyler

PART 1

The fable. Milou, the kitten who wished to be a cat...

1. Purring and attentive little ears

As the door opened, the fall sun caressed the fur of my outstretched paw on the windowsill.

The fresh breeze that entered made me tremble for a moment and I was about to curse the person who had dared to disturb my peaceful slumber when I saw her eyes.

They reminded me of a cat’s eyes ... alert and aware of its surroundings, an animal ready to flee or fight when faced with danger. But it was just a human. To be precise, a human of female nature. She looked at me with a mixture of affection and wistfulness, and she was still a young girl.

She slowly walked up to me, knelt down to look me straight in the eye, and without saying a word, she began to caress me. Her touch was soft and knowing. She knew that we cats generally like to have our chins scratched!

I couldn’t resist and started purring at her, but I could sense that something was making her sad.

Mrs. Veronica looked out from the back of the room. In a firm, loving voice she said:

“Good morning, how can I help you?”

“Good morning, I am Annalisa Pelardi. You are Mrs. Veronica? We had talked on the phone about the appointment. Excuse me for being 30 minutes early.”

“It’s all right, miss. Please take a seat. Would you like a glass of water or coffee?”

The ritual was always the same. My human, Veronica, tried to make the newcomers feel at home and listened to them attentively. They would tell stories about their lives, and sometimes they would cry or their voices would sound angry. The strangers would continue to talk about themselves, and Veronica would ask a few questions. After an hour or two, they would leave the room.

I mostly dozed and listened to their stories with one ear. I rarely interfered.

Occasionally, a human would interact with me, or I with them, and it tended to be those I found most intriguing because I perceived something that was hidden at first sight.

Excuse me. I forgot to introduce myself: I am Milou., a middle-aged cat. My fur is semi-long and soft, cream with black spots. I am an ordinary house cat, moderately cute, but people are often impressed by my expressive eyes.

I have been living together with Mrs. Veronica for the last two years. We got to know each other through a little stuffed leopard-shaped toy she kept on her windowsill. But I’ll tell you later how I met her.

I am a very special cat by nature and it took me a long time to understand that I am really a cat... just as it takes many humans, Veronica’s visitors, a long time to understand who they are.

Let’s take it one step at a time. I grew up in a family with chameleons, jellyfish, robins, rabbits and Dobermans ... Logically, as a cat, I did not know who I was.

2. My family

Yes, you read that correctly: My family does not consist of cats like myself. How can that be? Well, I don’t know for sure. Perhaps a freak of nature, perhaps a karmic fact, perhaps magic? Well, believe it or not, I am the daughter of a chameleon and a jellyfish. My dad, a chameleon who knows how to take on the appearance of his surroundings, likes to be warm, slow to move, and even though he’s not able to purr, I love him a lot. From time to time he gives me some of the flies he has caught, and often, when I was a little kitten, he would walk for hours between the trees in search of food. My mother was a tentacled jellyfish that enjoyed swimming in the sea and dancing in the waves to music. She liked to pull us towards her as a gesture of affection, but her tentacles would squeeze and prevent me from roaming freely.

In spite of the fact that I am a cat, I am very fond of water, but I am also in love with my freedom. Unfortunately, my mother, the jellyfish, died at a young age. One day, the tide came in early and surprised her, she stayed on the beach in the sun. Papa Chameleon was up in the tree and couldn’t save her in time, while I was out playing with my friends, oblivious to the drama that was unfolding. Then there was Grandma Robin, Aunt Rabbit and my cousin Doberman in the family. My maternal grandmother was Grandma Robin. She loved to fly around the gardens. She chirped and was busy building nests. I spent much of my young feline life with her and it was she who, in a way, brought me to my human, Veronica. My aunt, a rabbit, was always afraid of nearby predators and often would not play with me. But at heart she was very sweet and vulnerable. Finally, my cousin, the Doberman. He was still a puppy, but being a Doberman, he had to project a controlled and authoritative image. I was very fond of him because to me he was a puppy in need of a big sister for his protection. At least, that’s the way I always thought of him.

As I said before, I know that it may sound absurd to have such a family, but it is a real thing. Just because it is so strange and bizarre, since I was a few days old, we all hid from the eyes of other animals and people. We didn’t want to be ridiculed. But the more we hid, the more we isolated ourselves. I didn’t fit in very well in the cat colony because I didn’t have a good understanding of cat behavior. At home, all I wanted was a scratch under my chin and a purr from my parents, but they couldn’t give me either.

How could they? Their languages were so unlike mine. For me as a cat, the environment they came from was so inappropriate. I soon learned to observe them well, to perceive what they were trying to tell me in their language, so that I could be a good daughter to them, to understand them and to support them. But until I was a young adult, I forgot that I was a cat, not a chameleon and not a jellyfish, but a cat... And that I needed cat things.

Anyway, enough about me, let’s get back to the present and the female human who had entered Veronica’s studio. I had an idea of who she was, and I had a sense of what might have been on her mind... The more I listened with my alert ear to her conversation with Veronica, the more my whiskers confirmed what my first thought had been. If there was one thing I had learned growing up, it was how to read between the lines, how to see beyond what appeared to be.

3. The girl who feared she had no heart

That fall morning I was very nervous. On one hand, I was afraid to open up to this woman. On the other hand, I was so hopeful that she could help me with my problem. My family owns a bakery and pastry shop in this small town. My father is the owner. He has always been innovative, outgoing, and has motivated everyone around him with his charisma. I, on the other hand, am introverted and find it difficult to get along with people, even though my father has always praised me for my creativity. The employees in our pastry shop always worked with enthusiasm to create new pastry creations and to serve our customers well. Over the years, my father had promised to give them more responsibility, but he was unable to delegate it. This had a negative effect on his relationship with them. Then he became tired and old. He decided to put me in charge of the store. However, the employees doubt that I will be able to lead the company in an innovative and socially competent way because they see me only as his daughter, someone very similar to him, but introverted. I know that their perception of me is that I lack empathy because of my reticence, and perhaps they are right. Maybe I am not the right person to run this bakery and make them happy in their work. I have my doubts. I especially doubt that I have a heart. No one has ever perceived me as a person with a heart.

Many have praised me for staying “cool” when a customer complained about a less-than-perfect Saint ‘Honoré’ cake or when suppliers wanted to raise their prices (and I brought them back down to earth), but never has anyone praised me for inspiring employees or for being especially kind to our regular customers who stop by every morning for croissants or butter puffs. And yet ... I know I could give so much ... I have high ideals and I want to make this bakery the best in the area. I have visions for us as a team.

I thought about all this when I arrived at the entrance to Ms. Veronica’s studio.

In the window I saw a cat. She was lying on the windowsill, one paw resting in the warm rays of the sun. She was cute. It wasn’t a pedigree cat, but there was something nice about her, with all her black spots on her cream-colored fur. I opened the door and the warmth of the studio immediately enveloped my body, which was numb from the cold wind that made the yellowed leaves dance on the cobblestones of the street.

The cat opened its eyes and looked at me curiously. Those eyes! Transparent green and very attentive, as if she wanted to ask me, “And who are you?”

I love cats. Very useful in bakeries to keep the rodents away from the ingredients in the back of the bakeries. We had two, Fritz and Cassie. Two semi-feral creatures, but unbeatable hunters. It was just that they weren’t up to my kind of petting... I wondered if this cat would let me pet her? I took all the courage I could muster and walked up to her.

I thought I’d crouch down a bit to avoid looking dangerous. We looked each other straight in the eye and for a moment a warmth spread through me and I thought that I would like to share that kind of look with the people I worked with in the bakery.

An equal, open look, curious about the other. Melancholy pervaded me and the desire to be appreciated and comforted by this cat. I stroked her slowly and gently and seeing that she seemed to like it, I decided to scratch her chin. Suddenly she began to purr. What joy! She liked it! Just at that moment, the voice of her mistress took me out of that perfect moment and I let the cuddle cat rest on the windowsill.

I was intrigued by the girl. I would have liked to let her pet me for a longer time. She had an innate ability to understand how to approach us cats. Gently and respectfully. Now she was sitting in the yellow English chair in the middle of the room. She was facing Veronica’s blue chair. Veronica was watching her intently, as I was, and had brought her a cup of coffee in a beautiful colored ceramic mug. The girl, named Annalisa, began to tell her story: about the bakery, her father, her doubts. She had doubts about her ability to be in charge of the shop, doubts even about whether she had a heart! How could she have such doubts? I could tell she had a big, sweet heart by the way she looked at me and caressed me. But the more she talked, the more I realized that we were similar in some ways. We both grew up in families so different from ours.

We were both convinced that our "difference” was incomplete, not correct, not enough in the eyes of our colleagues. But that’s wrong. I am a cat, and as a cat, I have my good side and I have my bad side. My father is a chameleon and has his own good and bad sides, which are very different from my own. And yet we are both perfectly adapted to live in our own unique ecosystems: He in his tree and I in the house of Veronica. Each of us had a different set of abilities. He was able to adapt to anything and to camouflage himself; I was able to hunt mice and to keep my favorite human company.

Veronica listened carefully to Annalisa and asked her many questions to understand what intrinsic resources, positive experiences, dreams, and goals the girl had.

Annalisa’s eyes slowly lit up at these questions, like when I see a beautiful fleshy mouse within paw’s reach, ready to chase it!

Annalisa seemed to finally understand that she had so much to offer this world and its people. However, her look suddenly became wistful again.