Connection is not a tactic. It’s a posture of curiosity, trust, and resonance.
We don’t build trust by showing how much we know — we build trust by being deeply, genuinely curious.
As a coach, I don’t enter a conversation with a toolkit of pre-baked solutions. I enter with questions — the kind that draw out wisdom already within my client, rather than impose expertise from outside. This isn’t a performance. It’s a partnership.
My approach is rooted in the philosophy of humble inquiry (Schein, 2013) — the disciplined practice of asking questions you don’t already know the answer to. It’s about listening not to fix, but to understand. Not to analyze, but to accompany.
When done well, this approach invites clients to say things like:
“I’ve never said that out loud before.”
“That’s a great question. I’ve never thought of it that way.”
“That’s actually the thing I’ve been circling around.”
And that’s the moment when the real work begins.
Why It Matters
In organizational life — and honestly, in most of adulthood — we’re often rewarded for having the answer, not for asking better questions. Many clients come to coaching expecting performance reviews in disguise: a plan, a checklist, and maybe a critique.
But what they often need more urgently is a safe space to think, feel, and reflect — with someone who won’t hijack their insight with well-meaning advice.
When I coach someone through a transition or identity shift — a promotion, a change in role, or the quiet suspicion that they want something different — our relationship becomes the container that makes that change possible. That container is built on:
Deep listening
Respectful challenge
Space to not have it all figured out
That’s where humble inquiry becomes my primary tool — and one of the most relational moves I can make.
What I Do (and How I Use It in Coaching)
Here’s how I put this philosophy into practice:
I practice attunement
My background in music and theatre taught me that powerful relationships don’t begin with speaking — they begin with listening. With tuning your attention to the other person’s rhythm, energy, and meaning-making style.
In coaching, this means:
Letting silence breathe
Noticing what’s said and what’s avoided
Matching the emotional cadence before introducing new frames
It’s not about mirroring — it’s about resonance. And it’s through that resonance that trust emerges.
I ask questions that don’t rush toward clarity
In an era of optimization and efficiency, I intentionally slow things down.
Questions like:
“What’s feeling sticky here?”
“What are you not saying yet?”
“What does your gut know that your head is still arguing with?”
These aren’t performance questions — they’re relationship-builders. They tell the client: You don’t have to be polished to be valuable here.
I offer reflection, not redirection
Instead of steering a conversation toward outcomes too soon, I reflect back what I’m hearing:
“You lit up when you talked about that moment. What was happening there?”
“I noticed your voice dropped when you mentioned that colleague. What’s the story behind that?”
This mirrors their inner landscape — and helps them navigate it with more clarity and agency.
Boundaries of Usefulness
This approach works especially well when:
You are navigating ambiguity or identity change
You are open to reflective, insight-driven dialogue
The coaching engagement is developmental, not purely performance-based
It’s less effective when:
There are urgent, high-stakes deliverables or specific behavior targets
You are seeking direct advice or expertise transfer
There’s low psychological safety and high fear of being “wrong”
In those cases, I adapt by layering in more structure — but even then, I bring inquiry forward as a relationship move first, not just a technique.
Impact & Invitation
Relationships aren’t built on having the right answers. They’re built on shared meaning — created one question, one pause, one breath at a time.
When clients feel seen and not judged…
When they feel accompanied and not evaluated…
When they feel invited, not interrogated…
That’s when transformation happens.
And if you’re standing at a threshold — a role change, a reinvention, or just the quiet whisper of “I want something more” — let’s start not with a plan, but with a question:
What are you ready to grow into?