A bench, spring and an unexpected remark
Sometimes life reveals its lessons not in the moment of action, but in the stillness in between. Sitting on a bench in the spring sunshine, I let my eyes wander over nature as it slowly wakes from its winter sleep. How blissful those first days are, when everything begins to flow again. I let time stand still for a moment. Something within me says softly: ‘Now the new year truly begins.’ Just at that moment, out of nowhere, a sentence drops. One that lingers.
Next to me sits a participant. She is nearly at the end of an intensive two-year training programme that I facilitate. All that remains is her final assignment: her personal work, the crowning piece of the programme. The plank across the pit. For some, it is the difference between finishing and being left unfinished. Then she says, without hesitation: ‘I’ve got everything together, but I’m not going to write my personal work.’
Her words hang in the air. Not because they are meant dramatically, but because they touch on something bigger: the moment you decide not to do something.
Just before the finish
It does something to me. I can’t deny it. It always has. The sun lost none of its shine, the birds kept chirping and the world simply kept turning. Nothing earth-shattering, then. A pinprick in existence, or perhaps something even smaller. In the past I would have felt a stab of pain in my heart, become a little irritated, tried to persuade the person and insisted on the terms of the agreement. I am past that stage. I stay calm. Grounded and fully present, even, knowing that persuasion techniques yield little or no result. It is her choice, not mine. I don’t bear its consequences.
About the moment when we have almost finished… and stop anyway.
The brake on the last kilometre
As a trainer, and formerly as a teacher, I am no stranger to the phenomenon of someone stopping just before the finishing line. It also takes me back to all the times I used to travel somewhere in the country to carry out an assignment. What happened then serves as an illuminating image here. I was often held up about a kilometre from my destination. Roads were dug up, there were diversions, events blocking access, or the satnav led me down a dead-end forest track. Always that final stretch. A sense of panic would come over me. Sometimes I felt like giving up and turning back. Something held me back just before the end. That is exactly what happens to many people. In courses, in exams, in life projects big and small.
It happened so often that I began to pay attention to ‘the why’ of it. Every time, those last few hundred metres. It was as if something lay just beyond my reach. The finishing line was almost within my grasp, but I couldn’t quite get there. I was missing a piece of the puzzle. Information that was lacking and that I needed in order to take the last step without obstacles. It left me disheartened. I applied this image to a personal theme concerning a deep truth. For me, the two were connected. Like a metaphor that encouraged me on the one hand, because I was almost there, while on the other hand it was exhausting to grope in the dark for the missing piece. As I found more peace with the theme of truth, the literal obstacles on the way to my goal disappeared. An important insight still needs to be integrated before the last step can be taken: a fear that has taken control has to be faced.
Leaving things undone means losing opportunities.
Self-reflection
Even though I stay calm when someone gives up, it does something to me. In the spirit of ‘practise what you preach’, I turned my gaze inwards to explore what had touched me. In a training like this, I am one hundred per cent present for my participants and their growth. I guide, inspire, motivate and activate them in their process of reaching their highest potential. What drives me is seeing their process unfold and seeing the participants leave stronger than when they started. Do I expect the same drive from them? Do I have that right? No. I cannot and need not expect the same drive from them. It is an exercise I have become better at over the years.
Confession: I plead guilty
The next day I woke up with a sentence repeating itself in a whisper. I had to do something with it. Not just for myself, but also for all those who give up just before the finishing line, or perhaps even earlier. Unbidden, my thoughts brought forward a list of things I myself have not yet finished. Things I leave ‘lying around’. You trip over them. They never go away. There is, for instance, a book I have written three quarters of. It lies dormant somewhere, haunts the back of your mind and, just when you least expect it, suddenly pops up through other people’s questions: ‘Weren’t you going to write a book?’ And yet there are reasons why it doesn’t get finished. Whether those reasons are legitimate is another matter. I use them as if they were legitimate, but deep down I know: they have become worthless.
Completion is the place where strength, self-worth and inner peace come together.
The researcher
When I looked at why I didn’t follow through on certain opportunities, I came upon strong feelings of discomfort. An inner unease, a paralysing fear whose origin I didn’t know back then. Something that took my breath away. What I did know was that the feeling did everything it could to make me give up at a certain point.
I am a curious being and a researcher. I keep searching until I find an answer that satisfies me. I found the answer… with my pupils.
What happens with the pupils happens with you too.
Of course there may be external circumstances holding you back, but in most cases it is about your inner state of being. I was able to observe this closely during my career as a secondary school teacher. What happened with the pupils probably happens with you too. Picture an exam, something we all know. Even before the exam starts, there are pupils who have already given up. You can see it in their body and in their whole demeanour; you hear it in what they say, even if they don’t say it in so many words. You see it in the lack of depth or the absence of commitment during the school year.
What I learnt together with my pupils.
I wanted to take every pupil towards a good result because I believed in them, and also because I could see that their potential was greater than they themselves thought possible. How could I make it clear to them that they mustn’t give up? A drawing appeared on the board, showing what happened to them just before the exams. It was a simple drawing that came about in the moment, but one well worth drawing. The pupils’ morale rose and in most of them a little flame awoke, so that they approached the exams differently. It was a successful initiative, with the result: better marks to take home. But far more important was the euphoria afterwards. The good feeling they had and the better self-image they took home with them. A feather in my cap, and in theirs!
Completion is an act of strength.
The deep pit and the narrow plank
If, as a pupil, you have been sufficiently committed during the school year, you will be able to start studying for your exams with a healthy level of effort. If they hadn’t been, it seemed as though they were standing before a deep pit before they had even started. I drew on the board what I saw: a deep pit. It seemed insurmountable. Behind it, the mountain they had to climb all the way to the top. Their hearts sank. They preferred to laugh off the exams or to act as though they weren’t interested. Whatever their bravado, their self-image takes a knock when they fail or get low marks. In the long run, this shapes your wellbeing. What if we laid a sturdy plank across the pit? I drew a plank. The plank stood for the decision not to give up, for that inner moment when you say: ‘I’m doing it anyway.’ Then the worst is actually already behind you. Then the journey to the top of the mountain begins. When the pupils looked up at the summit, they were inclined to give up again. I encouraged them to take one step at a time. To read the first page. I drew the step. Only then to move on to the next one; no sprinting. When you go walking in the mountains, the summit sometimes disappears behind the trees too. With every step, they reward themselves with a pat on the back for that small success. When they look back, they see how far they have already come. That’s no small thing. With every step, the goal comes closer. Enjoy the journey. Don’t leave anything undone, but keep going. At the top, the nerve-racking exam awaits, less nerve-racking than usual because the preparatory steps have been taken. After the effort comes relaxation, and in the drawing we see the pupils joyfully making their way down the slope on the other side of the mountain. Then comes the ultimate reward. The podium of results and self-worth. The pupils drew themselves on the podium with a trophy or a wreath around their heads. By completing, everything is neatly put away. No loose ends are left dangling.
Why do you stop before the finishing line?
Resistance just before the finishing line is a familiar phenomenon in both personal development and at a systemic level.
What is often at play:
- Fear of change: If you finish something, it means that something has really changed.
- Doubts about your self-worth and self-image: ‘I’m someone who never finishes anything’ is safer than ‘I’m someone who finishes things and so becomes truly visible’.
- Fear of success: If you show that you can do it after all, then you have to live up to it. What then?
- Loyalty to (someone in) the family system where ‘not finishing’ was the norm.
You leave something undone because completing it means change.
A systemic exercise for completion: Are you putting the roof on your house?
- Write down three things you have started but not finished.
- Choose one. Sit with it for a moment and ask yourself the following questions:
- What is stopping me from finishing this (yet)?
- What might happen if I do finish it?
- Who in my family system was unable to finish something or found it hard to finish things?
- Who or what am I trying to stay loyal to by not finishing it?
- Then imagine that you do finish it after all. How does it feel? What changes?
- Close with a small first action (a phone call, writing a page, opening a folder).
The finishing line is within reach. Take that one step.
Finally: no sensible person leaves their roof unfinished
No sensible person would dream of leaving the roof of their house unfinished. So why would you leave a house, in the form of a project you have worked on for a long time, unfinished at the very last moment? You know that finishing it will give you a sense of pride and satisfaction. You know that only then is something truly complete. Because whatever you leave lying around will one day lie in your way. It is a pattern you are bound to find in other areas of your life too. Over time, many loose ends become an insurmountable mountain.
Hilde Van Bulck
More information about my work and what I offer: www.hildevanbulck.com
Hilde is a facilitator of systemic and energetic work with years of experience in education, constellation work and presence awareness. She helps leaders and their teams turn problem situations into opportunities for growth. She runs training programmes, guides people in their personal and professional development and writes about the richness of life, including its paradoxes.
