We need to talk about Jeremy

By Chris Morris on 2nd December 2011

Jeremy Clarkson went on The One Show this week and joked that he’d shoot all the public sector workers who went on strike.

This ‘joke’ was agreed with BBC producers before the cameras began rolling. In context, it was actually a joke about BBC balance. BBC programmes are supposed to give both sides of the story, so after offering some jokey support for the strikers – “I think they’ve been fantastic. London today has just been empty. Everybody stayed at home, you can whizz about, restaurants are empty” – he flipped to “but we have to balance this though, because this is the BBC… Frankly, I’d have them all shot.”

When the presenter clarified that this was not the BBC’s view – it was Jeremy Clarkson’s personal view – Clarkson responded: “No it’s not!”

It was clearly a joke. Not a particularly funny joke admittedly, but Jeremy Clarkson isn’t a particularly funny guy. What can we do? (Shoot him?)

As Clarkson said the next day: “I expressed two different views. Which one do I apologise for? I am just making fun of the BBC’s need to be impartial. Not about strikers. I wasn’t saying that strikers should be shot.”

Where did all the offence come from, especially from people who weren’t even watching the programme?

I think most of us were outside our comfort zone on Wednesday. Public sector workers who felt down-trodden were flexing their muscles – they were doing their best to stand up for themselves, for their families and communities. But it didn’t have as much impact as many of them hoped. Many other people were strongly against them – publicly and privately belittling them without empathy. And that was epitomised by Jeremy Clarkson – an outspoken, belligerent beast and a personal friend of David Cameron. Many people directed their frustration and anger towards him.

We lose ourselves when we try to rationalise our experience. Ask someone to explain why the joke offended them and they’ll flounder, but that doesn’t mean the offence wasn’t genuine. People are scared at the moment. They’ve worked for years believing their future would work out as planned. Now reality has punctured the plan and they feel wounded. It’s unsettling. Budgets are black and white, but people exist in a kaleidoscope of hopes and dreams. Some are worried and unsettled. Their future is uncertain. They don’t know what to do.

It’s easy to round against Jeremy Clarkson but he’s a light entertainment star with a DVD to promote. The real issue is that our country is divided and many of the people we rely on feel very let down.

Think about those guys who clear away your rubbish each week or fortnight – do you know their names or how much they get paid? The whole country would soon stink without them but they’re mostly invisible unless they don’t turn up. We want nurses to be available for us immediately when we arrive at a hospital in need, but what thought do we give to the nurse who goes home and cries because she can’t see any way out of debt, and her kids need new shoes?

As soon as we meet the bin man or nurse personally – when we see them as real human beings – then our attitude towards them tends to change instantly. It’s horrible that they do so much for us and we do so little for them. We can see that when we’re willing to think about it. But of course it’s easier not to think about it, so we shift from experience to theory and say things like “they should be grateful to have a job at all”. The kaleidoscope is reduced to black and white, and then we don’t have to consider our role in their suffering.

When I work with clients, I think it’s important to acknowledge the guilt and shame we’ve tried to keep a lid on for so long. We all know that our actions in this part of the world are part of the reason people are starving in other countries. We know we’re damaging the environment. We know we could do more to help people less fortunate than ourselves.

When we refuse to feel our own guilt, we project it out into the world – onto people like Jeremy Clarkson. We cast them as the bad guys so we can feel good by contrast.

Trouble is, we look out into a world of bad guys and think that’s reality. Then we can’t do all we want because the world is so hostile and unfair.

If you’d like to explore how your own beliefs influence your experience of the world, and even hold you back from living the life you really want, I’d love to talk with you. My coaching page will be updated in the new year but please feel free to get in touch before then. You can e-mail me – hello@chrismorris.com – to chat or find out more.





Love and fear: the fabric of reality

By Chris Morris on 9th September 2011

Imagine you have two coats, red and blue. Life is good for you when you’re wearing the red coat – the sun shines brighter, good things happen and everyone is kind to you. The blue coat leaves you cold – you have darker moods when you’re wearing the blue coat, things keep going wrong and people drag you down.

Now imagine nobody told you the coats have this effect.

And imagine your eyes have become foggy, so now both coats look the same to you.

This is my experience of how we create all the suffering in our lives. We have two gears: love and fear. We also have thousands of thoughts every hour, more sensory data coming in than even the fastest computer could process and a memory bank with billions of ideas to compare with each other. We do our best. And when we’re wrapped in love, life is good. When we’re wrapped in fear, it’s not.

Depending what gear we’re in, we experience our thoughts differently – and those thoughts have a different influence on our feelings, behaviour and new thoughts.

What if you’re sitting with some friends and the conversation goes quiet? In love, it’s beautiful to sit peacefully and not need to say anything. In fear, the same thought – “nobody’s speaking” – leads to a different feeling, and that feeling shapes our next thought. We can go “nobody’s speaking”, “this is lovely”, “I so enjoy being with people who don’t expect anything from me”. Or we can go “nobody’s speaking”, “this won’t work if we can’t even talk to each other”, “why can’t I think of anything to say?”, “I’ve got to get out of here”. The difference is nothing on the outside and nothing to do with thinking positive. It’s simply about which gear you’re in: love or fear.

Let’s say the conversation continues and my friend says I’m naive. When I’m loving, I know it makes sense for him to think that way because of how he thinks about the world and how my ideas integrate with those thoughts. I appreciate his honesty in sharing what he thinks. I respect his world and don’t take his thoughts personally. I continue to love him. But when I’m fearful, I feel under attack. I’m so busy doubting myself and defending myself that I don’t even see my friend any more. Would a friend be so rude to me? He’s just an idiot … blah, blah, blah.

The same applies in business too. I remember negotiating a six-figure contract for my IT company in the 90s and then, right at the last minute, the client said he wasn’t sure. Wrapped in love, it’s beautiful to explore what somebody really wants. I wouldn’t want us to do anything he wasn’t happy with and there’s always the possibility of finding something more wonderful. But wrapped in fear, as I was then, I didn’t want to lose what I didn’t even have yet. I was paranoid about saying the wrong thing and blowing the whole deal. I took it personally and thought he was messing me about. I felt sick in my stomach, lashed out and the deal was never done.

At it’s most simple, each moment is a choice: love or fear.

The confusion comes because of the fog in front of our eyes. Even if we understand the all-powerful nature of our coloured coats, how can we choose between two coats that look the same to us? With the fog in front of our eyes, we don’t see the choices clearly: red or blue, love or fear. We mostly see fog. And in that confusion we might think we’re being loving when really we’re trying to prove we’re a loving person because we’re so afraid we’re not. There are many examples like that and that’s why I think clarity is so transformative. Clarity changes your relationship with everything – every person, every concept (like money, society, health) and every thought you have. Clarity means you’ll always know what to do when you aren’t happy with something – without judgement, you can simply shift gears. Because in love, you’ll be happy with anything. And that’s a wonderful place to start exploring and creating what you really want.





How normal am I?

By Chris Morris on 24th August 2011

I had my healthcheck this morning and every test result came back normal. Normal and average. I couldn’t bear being so normal until the doc consoled me – “if it helps, very few people are *this* normal”.

Oh, the relief! I may be normal, but I excel at it – and there’s nothing normal about that. Phew! ;)





The riots in London

By Chris Morris on 9th August 2011

London is burning and now is the time to see with clear eyes. When we see the violence around us, it’s not enough to simply say “it’s all crazy” and “this is pure criminality”; we need to see more clearly if we want to move forward.

Most of us have had moments where we believe our worth as a human being is conditional on us doing the right thing, looking the right way or having the right stuff. We all do things and buy things to establish our place in an imaginary pecking order. And I think it affects us very deeply when we think we have to live that way and then we can’t make it work. We despair and lose our inner sense of worth. We start to destroy ourselves, and the destruction spills out – in small and bigger ways.

You don’t need to be a psychologist to understand the psychology of rioting. People who’ve felt powerless for years are intoxicated by a sudden surge of power. They thought they had only a few options and none of those gave them any hope. Suddenly the world opened up. They found they could totally control their environment. They dominated the streets and could smash or take anything they wanted. In those adrenaline-filled moments, they felt alive and powerful.

I grew up in care, didn’t go to school for many years and was homeless at 18. If you don’t understand what drives someone to smash up their own community, you’re fortunate. You haven’t been there and I’m glad for you. But if you think you’re better than those people, you’re wrong. You only made the best choices you knew how to make and so did they. Your life unfolded in a way that you can see more of the choices that are available to you. Some people don’t have that clarity yet.

What turned my life around was noticing I could make a difference in my own life. Relying on something that can be taken away (by government policy, benefit cuts, etc.) is a way to live in constant insecurity – that’s what leads to frustration, fear and anger. Knowing I have the power to choose my own path is what sets me free. It’s not always easy. Maybe it’s simple, but that’s not the same as easy.

While I run a successful coaching practice, I spend as much time working with people from backgrounds similar to mine. There’s nothing fancy about that work. People just need to know they have as much value as everyone else – that their equal value is their birthright and it can’t be lost unless they give it away.

That message is transformative – I’m constantly amazed by the difference it makes.

As Tom Carpenter said, ‎”Every form of lack – be it lack of money, lack of self-worth or lack of peace – arises from the belief that we have lost the ability to be loved. When we know that we are loved, it is impossible to think anything is missing.”

So when I hear people say the rioters “should be shot”, I remind those people – some of them my dear friends – that they’re part of the problem the rioters are trying in their own way to solve. I know that’s a confrontational message. But those defiant people on the street are doing the best they know how to do right now. Your behaviour may be more civilised than theirs but you’re not a better person. If your response to their poorly-expressed despair is to want them dead – to extinguish their very being – how are you not part of the problem?

They are afraid and they turn to violence. You are afraid and you turn to violence.

I’ve heard other people say we should take away their benefits. As if throwing water over a drowning man will help.

The people making these suggestions are frightened by what’s happening and they want to eliminate the threat. Or they want to punish the perpetrators so much that there’s no threat in the future. It’s an understandable reaction but illogical. Who really thinks that cutting benefits will help? It will vent your anger, yes. It will assert your power over the people who frightened you, sure. But creating a new level of poverty won’t help.

Can’t we see beyond the masks and machismo? These are desperate people trying to take control of their own lives in the best way they know. They don’t express themselves as victims because they are doing this to assert their power. But clearly they are suffering and trying to improve their lives. It doesn’t take much to see that.

David Cameron messed up the presentation when he said to “hug a hoodie” but I think his sentiment was right. People need to know they’re cared about.

What can you do in your community to show that all lives are equally valuable?





When I say you could live to be 1,000 years old, what’s your first thought?

By Chris Morris on 1st July 2011

I enjoyed an evening with Aubrey de Grey yesterday. Aubrey specialises in the science of ageing and how it can be slowed down and even stopped. If his predictions are right, it may be possible for us to live for hundreds of years – and the life expectancy of a 40-year-old today may be around 1,000.

We won’t be decrepit 1,000-year-olds – the bio-rejuvenation he predicts means we could have healthier bodies than we do now.

Does that sound like science-fiction to you?

In 2005, the MIT Technology Review challenged scientists to disprove the claim, offering a $20,000 prize to any molecular biologist who could demonstrate that it is “so wrong that it is unworthy of learned debate”. Nobody claimed the money; the learned debate continues.

I drifted in and out of understanding Dr de Grey’s scientific explanations. What interests me most is the sociological impact it could have and especially how people feel about living much longer. It’s very curious: most people look first for evidence against the possibility, not for it – they think first of the problems, not the benefits. Why is that?

When I told people I was going to meet Aubrey, the most common response was light mockery. His long beard does not help in this respect. “He looks like Gandalf de Grey”, said one chap. While most people realise that being a good gerontologist doesn’t require regular beard-trimming, I think we react flippantly to his ideas because they’re such big ideas.

Most people claim to be busy these days, but most people also feel like they’re on a treadmill. Having 10x more time… that’s a lot to take seriously.

We tend to get prematurely practical too. “What about overcrowding?”, “The pension age would have to rise”, “The planet is already struggling to cope with our excesses”.

Those concerns only make sense if you think this one technological advance could happen in isolation. It’s much more likely to happen alongside the development of clean energy and more efficient ways to live in the vast areas of our planet that are currently uninhabitable.

Then there’s the cultural hypnosis. When people think time is valuable and finite, they tend to convert their time into money and hoard it for the future. That way they can convert it back later, enjoying their last few years without any ‘work’. This seems insane to me. But if you think like that, it makes sense to want the best time:money conversion rate – so savings and pensions become important and suddenly getting more time might devalue our stock.

When you extend your life expectancy, a lot of this cultural hypnosis is exposed. The life we were taught to expect (the learning/development phase – the productivity phase – the retirement/illness phase) is much less than the life we could be enjoying.

How would you be living today if you knew you were going to live another 100, 500 or 1,000 years?

When I let my mind go quiet, I notice some of my own beliefs about ageing. My grandparents lived into their early 90s and I’ve already had about 30% of the time they had. Rightly or wrongly, I believe I’ll probably live a bit longer than them – so, on balance, I think I’m about 25% done. Those are just a cluster of beliefs, of course, but you know how much beliefs guide our lives. I also realise I’ve mentally written-off some years at the end of my life. So the race is on to contribute something to the world – I haven’t done much so far, and time is running out. Tick, tick, tick.

For Aubrey, it’s simply about health – if we can clean up the damage that comes from metabolism before it creates pathology, all kinds of illnesses that affect older people will never arise. Goodbye heart disease and Parkinsons, hello 950th birthday. Just make sure you can afford all the candles.

When I asked him about the sociological implications of such longevity, he dismissed the question brusquely. His view: “If disease is preventable, why do you want to die?”

If people won’t get behind the science until it’s put into a sociological context? “Make those people feel stupid”, he boomed.

Making people feel stupid is not my style. Besides, people already have long memories. Can you imagine if they held a grudge for 1,000 years?

The biggest thing I got from meeting Aubrey is a new perspective on what’s possible now. My generation may be on the edge of this new way of living and it may not. The options that may be available in 20-40 years may only extend our life expectancy by 20 years, but further research during those 20 years may improve the technology, and that could continue exponentially. The healthier we are when we start, the better our chances of continuing. According to Aubrey, the first 150-year-old and the first 1,000-year-old will probably be born only 20 years apart. As we tucked into our Time & Space platters – with all that deep-fried tempura, chips and chicken wings – I wondered if my lifestyle today could be knocking hundreds of years off my life. Aubrey had a burger on the side, though. So I remain hopeful.

What might life be like in 1,000 years? What might your life be like today if you knew you were going to live that long?





Johann Hari and the game of journalism

By Chris Morris on 29th June 2011

I’ve been following the Johann Hari scandal this last couple of days. Have you heard about it? Johann has been interviewing a series of prominent people for The Independent and other newspapers and now says he replaced their less-interesting answers with more-interesting quotes from other sources. Some of his “exclusives” were actually quotes from old articles and books.

In many ways, it’s a gossip story and I don’t care. 30,000 people will die today from hunger and whether a quote came from an interview yesterday or a book published a year ago doesn’t really matter. Unlike some other journalists, Johann hasn’t fabricated the quotes completely. I doubt he meant any harm.

But there’s a wider point: how well do we understand our relationship with columnists and commentators?

I’ve always seen Johann as an entertainer, not a journalist. He stitches together selective arguments to create a narrative that takes his readers on a ride. In particular, his speciality is getting people who don’t know much about a topic to think they are understanding it properly now. That’s a profitable niche to be in and understandably it’s won him a lot of fans. But how often are we unsuspecting pawns in a bigger game we don’t understand?

When Johann interviewed Gideon Levy – an Israeli activist who’s made a career of criticising Israel – most of the quotes weren’t published. Why? Because Gideon Levy doesn’t make sense most of the time. He contradicts himself relentlessly and his mistakes/lies are easy to spot. So Johann ditched most of those quotes and used extracts from Gideon Levy’s own articles instead. Much more time had been spent polishing those: they’d been through fact-checking, re-writes, sub-editing and proofing. They’re still his words, probably, but we were sold the idea that he’s a lucid and well-informed interview subject – and really he’s not. We were misled.

I think of it like air-brushing pictures. If you air-brush a celebrity or model to make them look nicer, that’s one thing. If you air-brush a bomb site to show more victims, that’s something else.

Gideon Levy makes money by accusing people of genocide. His deceitful words should not be ‘word-brushed’.

Most modern journalism blurs news and opinion, fact and fiction, advertising and editorial. I’ve written news reports in the past (for The Evening Standard and The Big Issue) and been a researcher for BBC News and Newsnight. I’ve also been a guest on news programs, giving my own opinions on the news. I’ve written my opinions for newspapers and had columns in Time Out and a couple of the gay newspapers. I’ve made a short radio program for the BBC. Now I blog.

Blogging gives you absolute control over the output. There are limitless possibilities.

When you read an article – either in the mainstream media or on a personal blog – how much do you know about the writer/publisher’s agenda? Do you care?

What is my agenda for posting this?

I won’t read Johann Hari’s articles any differently in future. He’s great at what he does. The people who are outraged should look to themselves – why would you join in a game before finding out the rules?





You can change your life in an instant

By Chris Morris on 19th June 2011

One of my friends was attacked in the street last night. He’s the bravest guy I know and soon he began beating himself up, ashamed that he’d run away.

I thought, “He survived an attack. How could he be ashamed of that?”

In the heat of the moment, few people want Yoda to pop up with “only in the mind, thoughts are” advice. But I guess it’s ok the next day…

In my life, my big challenge is to love what’s real. That means letting go of all hopes for a better past. All my suffering has come from having a story about who I am and how the world should be. When reality punctures that story, I hurt.

Isn’t that true for all of us?

We act as if our stories are real. Then it feels uncomfortable when the stories are made wrong.

If we stay attached to a story and it’s repeatedly made wrong despite our efforts to maintain it, it can feel like the whole fabric of reality is against us. The world is against us. Even our own bodies are against us.

The more we fight it, the worse we feel.

And those feelings can change in an instant.

Recently I worked with a lady who’d been diagnosed with breast cancer and was due to have a breast removed the next day. She arrived in tears, devastated.

In the context of a coaching conversation, I asked how she knew she was supposed to have two breasts. That may sound like an odd question. For some, it may even sound like an offensive question – that’s why I emphasise it was calibrated for that individual in that conversation. For her, she zoned out as she thought how to answer. Like most of us, she’d been carrying an idea of who she was, and part of that for her involved being a woman with two breasts. It felt like an attack when reality suddenly punctured her idea of herself.

A few moments later, her smile was life-changing. It was like a switch had flicked. There was no therapy needed, no nothing. She simply realised that she wasn’t supposed to be anything she isn’t. She was having a breast removed, and it didn’t mean anything more than that.

When people offered her sympathy, she understood that it was them who felt bad. Their story about her had been punctured too. She comforted them while continuing to feel comfortable herself.

Can you apply this principle in your own life? Can you love reality, even if it doesn’t match your expectations?

  • If you’re interested in exploring this more and think I could be useful, please get in touch.




Being vs doing

By Chris Morris on 17th June 2011

A few people have asked me recently why I focus less on what people are doing and more on how they’re being.  For me, being comfortable in your own skin is the only foundation for authentic success. Why? Here’s what I said to Adrian Reynolds in an interview with Evolver Talent:

“I think we always do the best we know how to do, based on who we think we are. If we don’t like ourselves, it doesn’t seem to matter what we achieve. We’ll probably think it was a fluke anyway. When I was 19, I was allowed into the House of Commons chamber during recess and I stood behind the dispatch box where ministers and prime ministers usually stand. I only remember feeling terribly uncomfortable. I thought it must be a mistake. I must have misled the MP I was working for; he’d never have arranged it for me if he knew the real me. Who was I to stand where great men and women had stood? I was nothing, nobody. So it could have been a magic moment for me but I walked away feeling even smaller than I had arrived.

I had so many experiences like that around the same time. I did three big interviews on Newsnight before I was 21 – some people would call that an achievement. But if you look back at those clips now, you’ll see an unhappy boy with an affected voice, trying desperately to be something more than he thought he was. I kept waiting for them to realise they’d made a mistake by inviting me. No achievement felt like an achievement. I had hundreds of letters from people saying my campaign had inspired them to live more truthfully, and I thought thank goodness I wore the tight top because that’s the only reason they like me. In hindsight, I laugh. I’m not allowed in the House of Commons chamber these days but I’d love to stand behind that dispatch box and I love being anywhere else in that building and anywhere else in the world. I know who I am and I love myself in a good way. There’s nowhere I can’t be. Success is inevitable now. That’s why I think being is more important than doing.”

You can read the rest of the interview here: Interview with Chris Morris

Thanks to Adrian

on being




Your personality creates your personal reality

By Chris Morris on 16th June 2011

I’ve never seen a new-born baby looking cynical. Sure, they cry – that’s physical. But have you ever seen a baby pop out with a disapproving face, lamenting the lack of hospital facilities? “Oh, I wanted to be a Spring baby!”

We’re born free. We look around with wonder, giggling and gurgling. Life is what it is. We haven’t learnt to evaluate and judge yet.

Pretty soon though, we realise we need another person. Usually it’s a mother, but it doesn’t need to be. We basically need at least one servant – someone to fetch and carry for us, clean us and feed us. We aren’t able to do those things yet so we rely on outside influences. Our life depends on them. Without them, we’d die.

I think that’s when we begin to craft our personality. We notice that we can create more or less of a connection with other people. Depending on who’s around, we may find it works to be good, or funny, or clever, or cute, or brave… it’s different for all of us, yet it’s also the same. We each have the same capabilities as all human beings and we learn to emphasise the parts that seem useful for getting what we want/need.

It’s complicated, of course. People have written long books about how personalities are formed and this is a short blog post. My point here is simply that the whole of us creates a personality, and most of us start to believe that’s who we are.

What about the parts of the whole that weren’t welcomed into the world? What about all the parts that didn’t seem useful for getting what we want/need?

Have you ever had a sense that there’s something wrong you? I think most of us share that unexplained feeling, deep down, that something’s not quite right. And while different cultures have embedded the idea in different ways – Catholics talk about Original Sin, for example – I think it’s more easily understood when you realise you’re a human being with the same capabilities as all other human beings, yet you’ve also told yourself a story about who you are, and you believed it. When we withhold the truth of who we’ve always been, we feel that sense of otherness with ourselves.

Byron Katie asks, “Who would you be without your story?”

If you have an answer, I respectfully suggest you haven’t understood the question!

In the meantime, we busy ourselves with the questions we’re more familiar with – who would you like to be? what story would you like to live out?

If you know the world is hostile, you’ll find evidence to prove it. Know it’s friendly and the evidence is equally forthcoming. If you know you’re a good person, you’ll find evidence to make it so. Know you’re wise and there’ll be plenty to show you’re right.

Every definition of yourself and the world is lacking. Every evaluation and judgement separates you from raw experience. Yet knowing this shouldn’t stop us from picking a story anyway.

You are whoever you choose to be. Who are you choosing to be today?





Experiencing Marshall McLuhan

By Chris Morris on 15th June 2011

One of my favourite quotes comes from Marshall McLuhan, the Canadian philosopher and father of Media Theory. McLuhan predicted the world wide web decades before it was invented and coined the famous phrase “the medium is the message”.

He said:

“Everybody experiences far more than he understands. Yet it is experience, rather than understanding, that influences behaviour.”

I love that quote so much!





Do you want to be understood?

By Chris Morris on 14th June 2011

I was facilitating a discussion yesterday, exploring how to negotiate effectively.

When I negotiate, I rarely want someone else to adopt my position. I usually want our conversations to create something new – something we hadn’t thought of before.

The question came up: “what if ‘the other side’ doesn’t understand where I’m coming from?”

That’s where most of us think the challenge is – with other people.

But first, are you sure that you understand where you’re coming from?

The whole group looked at me funny. Then they smiled.

Because when you think someone doesn’t understand you, misunderstanding yourself in a new way might be what sets you both free.





Have you heard about Innersound?

By Chris Morris on 10th June 2011

I was helping out at a conference recently and met two fascinating people from a company called Innersound. They were demonstrating a form of energetic massage and I was immediately impressed because they didn’t want to talk about it first. It’s the experience that counts and there can’t be a placebo effect if you don’t know what to expect.

The experience was blissful. After five minutes, I sat up and my spine was incredibly straight, my mind was clear and I felt like I’d slept for a day. Wow! I was beaming from ear to ear and I told the lady I’d only felt like this before after doing Qi Gong on the beach in Mexico. “Very good”, she smiled. “What we teach is Qi Gong and this treatment is related.”

I’m generally skeptical about all things “energy”. When people want to balance my aura, they’re usually people who don’t like themselves very much. Nonetheless, I’ve had some really cool experiences and I keep an open mind. I booked a full session for the following week.

The Innersound building on Queen Anne Street is rather grand. Spread over several floors, there’s a big reception, a suite of treatment rooms and lots of space for classes. I removed my shoes and was pleased to find out my treatment was with one of the people I’d met at the conference. He reminded me of ‘The Ninja’ – the guy who taught me Qi Gong in Mexico. They both have that air of quiet authority that comes from living your work and not talking a lot about it.

The treatment was wonderful. I had that same blissful feeling, the same straight spine and the same clarity. Twenty minutes later I was walking home and feeling amazing.

The effects of the first treatment stayed with me for about two days and then faded. This full treatment lasted about 10 days and then faded.

I was hooked. As soon as it started to fade, I booked a third session.

Is it true that all good things must come to an end? I don’t think so, but my joy at Innersound certainly came tumbling down. My next treatment was with another guy and his approach was very different. He was gentle and sweet, but he was one of those guys who can’t seem to stop talking. He had theories about everything, including about me. First he knew that I was obviously a very successful person who worked at a senior level. Ha! I smiled and said nothing. He said I was relaxed sometimes and stressed other times. Mr Barnum might have turned in his grave at the crudeness of that one, but I smiled again and said nothing. The stress was probably because of the long hours I work, he continued, because of my senior job…

I can be very present and in the moment. I listened to him. Then he asked what I thought and I quietly told him I work two or three hours a day usually, don’t have much stress and would like to start the treatment. He carried on talking… we all breathe a lot of toxins from the air, and that causes stress. We’re all stressed because of the water in London. (I don’t even live in London!) Everyone has low Qi and the only way to feel good is to attend classes as well as having regular treatments. Had I thought about classes? He handed me a leaflet.

Eventually he started the treatment… and carried on talking. Apparently my face was hot because I think too much. Maybe. Maybe also because I’d been lying in the sun for two hours before my appointment.

The treatment had no noticeable effect. So he started with more theories… I was resistant, I had to let the energy in. I was probably guarded because of the stress. Had I thought about classes?

These classes work like a gym membership. There’s a joining fee (£100) and then it’s about £60 a month. You can cancel after three months (giving a month’s notice) if you don’t like it.

When I said I wasn’t going to sign up immediately, he looked at me with sad eyes and told me I didn’t value myself. Apparently it’s a shame because my energy is so low and these classes are the only thing that could make me happy. Did I know that if I increased my energy by paying for the classes, then I would make more money?

Maybe I am stressed. I told him to stop being an arse.

The silly thing is, I believe those classes would probably help me. I tracked how the treatments lasted and faded and I think practicing what they teach would probably make a difference. I’m not going to go though. I don’t want to be around people who play those kind of games.

In business as in life, I love what’s real. When you use hype and trickery, you send a message that you think what’s real isn’t enough. Is that healing?

Innersound – you were better when you were silent!





Can you get free coaching from your friends?

By Chris Morris on 9th June 2011

Someone said to me earlier “It must be great for your friends – all that free coaching”.

I thought about it because I don’t coach my friends unless they sign up for coaching. It’s nothing to do with money. So what is it about?

I think coaching is about holding the space for someone to reveal themselves to themselves. I like having meaningful conversations with my friends (I’m not one for chatting about what happened on Eastenders last night or whether Lady Gaga’s shoes are as nice as James Corden’s hat) but that’s different from coaching.

When I’m coaching, my attention is absolutely and unconditionally with my client. If the door bell rings while I’m on the phone, I probably won’t hear it. The main reason I’m able to be useful as a coach is because I can slide out of my own opinions and hang-ups while I focus, for that time, on being in the moment and doing what I’ve agreed to do with the other person.

My friends aren’t shielded from my opinions and hang-ups. Sometimes they’ll be talking and I won’t really be listening. Sometimes I make assumptions or go off on my own tangents. Maybe I’m more present than some other people they know. Maybe I play fewer social games and I’m more conscious when I do – but certainly not always.

It can be funny sometimes. Someone will turn up expectantly and after a few minutes they’ll lose patience and ask “so? what do you think?” as they thrust their head forward. And I smile because I love them. I don’t care how they do their hair, but at the same time I’m not stubborn. If they ask me explicitly, I’ll say the nicest version of the truth I can think of. It’s not my job to hold a frame they’re trying to bust out of. I prefer not to give/seek external reassurance, but it’s fine.

With clients, that’s different. They’ve asked me to hold a frame so I do. We have a set of agreements and a shared purpose. We’ve made commitments to each other.

Let me clarify – do I let my friends know when I see them rolling around in a field of stinging nettles? Of course. Do I use their own metaphors and language structures so what I say makes more sense to them than it otherwise might? Sure. Why not? But if they carry on rolling, that’s ok with me too. And I probably won’t mention it again unless they bring it up or ask why I think their skin is so itchy.

We can all find ‘people to talk to’ and ‘bounce ideas off’. We can all find people to share food and drink with and sit into the early hours exploring the meaning of life – if that’s what we want.

Coaching is different to that. Nobody needs a coach but I think everyone can benefit from one. When I hear somebody say they don’t need coaching because they already have ‘plenty of friends’, that’s maybe a sign that all of us who are coaches need to better explain what we do.





Who would your guru be without any followers?

By Chris Morris on 7th June 2011

I thought I had the world at my feet when I was 23. I’d turned my life around completely. From being homeless at 18 to buying my own house; from being lonely to having a wonderful relationship; from pondering suicide almost daily to passionately embracing the joy in every moment.

Then I discovered ‘Self-Help’.

I naively believed the charming claims that leapt out of glossy brochures and book jackets. They told me I could be better. I knew change was possible, so I found it easy to believe. I could be more. I could be great.

So began five depressing years of spending lots of money on smoke and mirrors.

Yesterday somebody offered me a bacon-flavoured crisp. It wasn’t bacon and didn’t really taste like bacon, but the experience was very bacon-y. Does that make sense? The chemical they’d used to cover the potato gave a powerful illusion of bacon, but it contained no actual bacon. The pack was marked ‘suitable for vegetarians’.

I reached for one crisp after another. I don’t like crisps. I just wanted one more.

I think ‘Self-Help’ works a lot like that too. Most ‘gurus’ are kind and well-meaning people, doing the best they know. But the light they beckon us into usually comes from cleverly-angled torches that camouflage their own shadow. Their words may be flowery but their baseline message is simple: we aren’t good enough as we are.

They don’t say that, of course. They usually say the opposite. But their real message is embedded in the deep assumptions of how they themselves show up to teach.

I spent several years as a student of Richard Bandler, one of the main creators and developers of NLP. At first I was one of hundreds sitting in a packed training room; then I began assisting, promoting and organising some of his events. When I hired Richard for an event in 2007, I began to see him more clearly. In those fleeting moments when he came out of role and we were just two guys sitting together, his wisdom was more apparent than any time I’ve seen him on stage. When we sat one day looking at some stamps he was collecting – when he got that I didn’t need the stamps to be a metaphor for anything else – that we could just sit together – that was as beautiful an experience as sitting with anyone else in that way. Namaste. And when he got up, went on stage and taught people to do the opposite, that’s when I realised I could no longer be his student.

This isn’t meant to be a dig at Richard. I’ve spent time feeling angry and resentful that I adopted some of his teachings and they set me back, but I take responsibility for that now. I’ve learnt to be more discerning and, more than that, I’m continuing to learn how important it is to embrace sovereignty over our own lives.

That’s why I’m skeptical of most ‘Self-Help’ ideas. I think Paul McKenna is a great guy but when he says “I Can Make You… Thin/Rich/Confident, etc.” the obvious response is “Darling, no you can’t”. I understand why he positions his books that way, of course. And doing so has made him very successful. But I think repositioning an idea to make more people adopt it is like having plastic surgery to make yourself more beautiful. It’s not you who’s beautiful when you have a bit of someone else’s arse stapled to your face.

As Ghandi said, “It is because we have at the present moment everybody claiming the right of conscience without going through any discipline whatsover that there is so much untruth being delivered to a bewildered world”.

I’m coaching eleven people at the moment and sometimes I notice myself wanting to help them. Then I remember I couldn’t help them if my life depended on it. My job is simply to be grounded, see people as they really are and hold the space for them to reveal themselves to themselves. If that sounds self-deprecating, it’s not. I’ve come to see myself as one of the best coaches around because my clients consistently get the results they want. These are tremendously powerful people, as you are too. The more I get out of the way, the more clarity appears in our conversations.

When you get really clear about what you truly want your life to be about, authentic success becomes easy and inevitable.

One of the loveliest testimonials I’ve received is from Caroline Chapple. She said: “Chris sees what’s great and unique about you and reflects that back in a way you can trust and believe. It’s a very powerful and joyful thing to experience”. When I mentioned my thoughts about ‘Self-Help’, Caroline drew this brilliant cartoon to illustrate the point.

Caroline Chapple Cartoons





Are we sure that being gay isn’t a choice?

By Chris Morris on 27th May 2011

Patrick Strudwick has written a powerful expose of Lesley Pilkington, the psychotherapist who tried to cure his homosexuality.

She told him that childhood wounds were responsible for how he felt, that he was experiencing mental illness and an anti-religious phenomenon. She prayed that he’d remember being sexually abused, even though he wasn’t. She told him to become more heterosexual by playing Rugby.

Most will agree that Ms Pilkington has more issues than she’s qualified to treat. Colleagues are outraged. The BACP has suspended her accreditation and ordered her to re-train.

Yet the furore isn’t really about an old woman behaving unprofessionally; her suspension only made the news because collectively we are holding on to the myth that people are born either heterosexual, homosexual or bisexual – that we have no choice.

Is it true that we have no choice?

I’ve been in a relationship with another man for 13 years (which is all my adult life). I fought in the European Court to get the age of consent equalised for everyone and I think all consenting adults should be free to enjoy themselves in peace and privacy.

I’ve also spent years exploring how we build ourselves as people – how our bodies work, how we adopt and maintain beliefs, how we link together our thoughts to construct our personalities, and so on.

I now think we create ourselves as gay or straight the same way we create ourselves as confident characters or shy ones, artistic or sporty, optimistic or pessimistic. We create thoughts about ourselves that we hold to be true, we attach to them and filter our experiences through the network of assumptions they generate.

I used to think I wasn’t artistic. I couldn’t draw anything that looked like something. I had no sense of how colours complemented each other or how to express my feelings on canvas. One day I was challenged on it. How did I know I wasn’t artistic? Why was I making an identity out of a lack of ability? I thought about it for a good 20 minutes without saying anything and I remembered all those times in art class when I didn’t pay attention because I didn’t think I was artistic. I didn’t doodle when I was bored because I wasn’t artistic. I didn’t use the paints I got for Christmas because I wasn’t artistic. So of course I wasn’t very good at art. I’d never learnt, practiced or associated good feelings with the process. When I changed that and began painting for fun, soon I got good at it. Now I think I’m artistic. Now I can paint well.

I also grew up in care where the other boys were much older and more scary than me. I learnt to hide and be invisible as a way of staying safe. Before long I thought I was a shy person; then I had therapy and learnt I was an introverted personality. One day someone challenged me on it. I thought about this one for even longer than 20 minutes and over time I realised all the ways I’d taught myself to be. I had beliefs about myself that I thought were truths. When I began to realise I was more than my thoughts about myself, I began to be free. I don’t think of myself as a shy person any more and my behaviour has changed too. I make new friends and chat to people wherever I go.

I love being around new-born babies because they don’t see us as men or women, gay or straight. They don’t have those concepts yet and there was a time when we didn’t either. Then we began to think, and our thoughts began to define us and our relationships with others. Most of us never explore this. We’re too busy. We’re too distracted. Or it’s too uncomfortable.

I was extremely uncomfortable when people said I could be less shy. It felt like they wanted me to be something I wasn’t. I distracted myself by getting angry.

I know a lot of people will feel the same when I say you can choose who you’re attracted to and who you’re propelled to seek relationships with. I don’t mean it’s a simple and conscious choice like how you want to have your steak cooked. I mean that you’re a human being and you’re capable of anything human beings are capable of, and the labels we use to feel secure are also the fences that keep us penned in.

There aren’t many Lesley Pilkingtons around these days and they shouldn’t be allowed to frame the conversations we have around sex and sexuality. It’s no longer about which way is right or wrong, normal or abnormal. The next step is about bringing awareness to our own choices.

I’ve worked with people who wanted to explore what else they’re capable of and we explored their potential with fascination not desperation. You are whoever you choose to be. I think that’s real freedom and the next stage in our evolution.





What is real?

By Chris Morris on 25th May 2011

From “The Velveteen Rabbit” by Margery Williams:

“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”

“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.

“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”

“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”

“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”





What is the difference between thinking and feeling?

By Chris Morris on 22nd May 2011

I enjoyed this quote from Marilyn vos Savant.

Asked “What is the difference between thinking and feeling?”, she replied:

“Feeling is what you get for thinking the way you do”.

Elegantly simple and splendid!





For coaches – do you want more clients?

By Chris Morris on 5th May 2011

Fellow coaches often ask me how I find clients. How? How? How? Amazingly, fewer than one in ten coaches make a living wage from coaching.

My usual answer is pretty flippant – I don’t find clients, they find me. I don’t advertise or pitch. People hear about me via word of mouth and I’ll only work with them if I like them and find them interesting. So that’s a great place for me to be – I love it! – but it doesn’t answer the question: how can coaches find clients? It’s a really important question for a lot of people.

Finally I have a good answer. Actually the answer comes from my buddy Rich Litvin and his mentor Steve Chandler. They are coaches who earn A LOT of money. And Steve in particular has an amazing track record of teaching people how to go from ‘just starting out’ to having a full roster of high-paying clients – easily, ethically and with a lot of fun along the way.

Steve Chandler’s work with coaches has produced 18 disciplines for attaining clients and building a strong and prosperous coaching practice. On 3rd and 4th June, he will be in London for the first time and bringing his teaching into a two-day intensive workshop. He’ll be teaming up with one of his most profoundly successful graduates, master coach Rich Litvin. Rich is finishing a book on enrolling high-paying clients into your coaching practice and he has 81 principles he’ll be revealing for the first time ever. These principles are profound and jolting… a strong antidote to the problem of being “stuck” with too few clients and an income that does not light you up.

What I love is that Steve and Rich are creating this event in the same way they CREATE clients – by invitation and referral only. As a friend of Rich’s, I get to invite YOU.

Me being me, there’s no sell involved here. My invitation is simply to download a free copy of Steve’s book How to Get Clients and also the unique MP3 recordings that he and Rich have made available for you. Whether you then attend the event or not, you’ll already have a lot of solid material that will make it very easy for you to CREATE clients. Check it out. It works. There’s a page with the downloads here.





In my next life

By Chris Morris on 7th April 2011

I love this idea from Woody Allen, so I thought I’d share it.

“In my next life I want to live my life backwards. You start out dead and get that out of the way. Then you wake up in an old people’s home feeling better every day. You get kicked out for being too healthy, go collect your pension, and then when you start work, you get a gold watch and a party on your first day.

You work for 40 years until you’re young enough to enjoy your retirement. You party, drink alcohol, and are generally promiscuous, then you are ready for high school.

You then go to primary school, you become a kid, you play. You have no responsibilities, and you become a baby until you are born.

And then you spend your last 9 months floating in luxurious spa-like conditions with central heating and room service on tap, larger quarters every day and then Voila! You finish off as an orgasm!

I rest my case.”





Do you trust your unconscious?

By Chris Morris on 9th March 2011

It’s the new mantra of pop psychologists – “trust your unconscious”.

Here’s why I think that’s the last thing you should do.

First, remember that you don’t actually have “an unconscious”. I wrote about that here. The conscious mind / unconscious mind distinction is a useful metaphor, in some contexts, but generalising from a metaphor can take you to some pretty wild places. I see it a lot when I work with people who’ve done a lot of “self-improvement”. When you create an entity of your own blind spots, you need to be smart about it. Otherwise you’ll be in trouble.

My take is that we each have one big system that runs everything – from purifying our blood to deciding what we’ll read next – and we’re all aware of some activities within the system and not others. It’s the same system, body and brain, all connected, but we pay attention to different things at different times. There’s a lot going on. We learn to focus.

If you interpret that as you being “conscious of” a few things and the rest is “your unconscious”, that’s a popular interpretation – but is it useful? You are your unconscious and it is you. Trusting yourself is wonderful, but when do you trust yourself, how, and why?

I spoke to a guy earlier – let’s call him Caesar – who is a good example of this. Caesar made a decision last month and then took some time to think about it more. He did all the things he likes to do. And then he made the same decision again, of course – because he’s the same person and nothing relevant had changed.

When you put your £1 in the vending machine and press Coke, the best option is you’ll get Coke. You might get nothing. It’s very unlikely you’ll get an elephant.

Caesar probably changed his state and physiology a little during his thoughts, but he was the same guy feeding the same ideas into the same machine. He didn’t change enough to change.

It’s like presetting your phone with your friend’s number. You set it up and press Preset 1 – and, yes, it connects you to your friend. The next day you press Preset 1 again and you get your friend again. Each time you press Preset 1, you always get your friend.

So that must be a true friend, right?

Of course not! You’re just repeating the same process and getting the same result.

I’ve seen people do this by swinging pendulums, using energy wheels, noticing finger signals, and all sorts… different toys, same game.

And it’s obvious once you see it.

The tools create a context for you to express your own thoughts in different ways. And that may well be very useful sometimes, but – again – when do you trust your thoughts, how, and why?

We’ve all noticed people with bad posture, right? I have a slightly bent spine for example, and I tend to compensate by holding my neck slightly off centre. That lengthens my neck muscle on one side and knocks out my shoulders (on the other side), and then my upper back. I noticed it and relaxed the muscles in my neck and upper back, but then my lumbar took the strain… so I’m one of those people who really needs some good bodywork, head to toe, and I’m getting it. In the meantime, I notice with amusement that when I think I’m standing up straight, and look in the mirror, I’m far from straight.

What feels right and natural to me is a reflection of how my system is currently configured. I feel wrong with my neck straight. I feel right with it bent.

I think this is similar to what happens when we believe our thoughts. They feel true because we created them and we’ve habituated to them. So even when we ask ourselves “is this true?”, our thoughts shout back “of course!”.

I think it’s better to question those thoughts, don’t trust them.

Colonel Gaddafi, Ted Bundy… shouldn’t they question their thoughts before trusting them?

And shouldn’t we all, really?

So design the system you want – then trust it

The key to ecological change is actually changing something(!) while keeping the whole system in balance. Before Christmas I had a client who wanted to make more money and I encouraged her to dance. Every day, dance. She wasn’t happy with this advice at all and in fact she asked for her money back. She wanted to make money, not dance. And then last week she wrote to say thanks after all. It had taken a couple of months but she’d begun to dance and her attitude to money had also changed. Her system has a new balance that accommodates making money, easily.

I encouraged her to trust her deep intuitions, but only after she reconfigured the system that generated those intuitions.

The same clusters of sensory data now mean something different to her, so trusting her intuition is useful now.

Before our time together, her intuitions were filtered through fear, unworthyness, guilt, etc. Telling her to trust her unconscious then would have been nuts.

Yet that’s exactly what she’d been told to do by a succession of gurus and teachers…

My advice is to focus on self-inquiry and self-awareness. Question your thoughts, don’t trust them. Keep questioning. Question the idea of questioning. Question more.

Only when you have a configuration that really works for you – then trust it.





Meta Programs in NLP (revised list)

By Chris Morris on 8th March 2011

This is the list I use for presenting/grouping Meta Programs (in the context of teaching NLP). I think some people do it differently so this could be a useful thread if we share more versions.

PRIMARY INTEREST / SORT
People (who)
Places (where)
Activities (what)
Information (what)
Things (what)
Motives (why)
Purposes (what for)
Time (when)
Processes (how)
Quantities (how much)

TIME PROCESSING
In time
Through time
Between times
Beyond time / “out of time”
TIME ORIENTATION
Past
Present
Future
Non-temporal

PROCESSING & PERCEPTUAL AWARENESS
Sequential
Simultaneous
REASONING & PROCESSING METHOD
Inductive
Deductive
Abductive

REASON
Possibility / Desire
Necessity
DIRECTION
Towards
Away

SOURCE OF MOTIVATION
Internal
External

TASK PREFERENCE
Options
Procedures
FOCUS OF ATTENTION
Inside
Outside
SCOPE OF THINKING & GROUPING
Global / Large
Specific / Small
FLOW OF MENTAL EVENTS
Matching (Sameness)
Mis-matching (Difference)

SOURCE OF EVALUATION
Self
Others
FOCUS FOR EVALUATION
Process
Result
CONVINCER BEHAVIOR
Action
Thought
Emotion
CONVINCER PROCESS
Automatic
# Repetitions
Consistency
Time

Credit goes to a lot of people who’ve helped me understand and develop my understanding of Meta Programs, including Gabe Guerrero, Eric Robbie and Richard Bandler.





My review: Training with Frank Pucelik, co-creator of NLP

By Chris Morris on 24th February 2011

For those who don’t know, Neuro Linguistic Programming (NLP) is a controversial offshoot from psychology that began in California during the 1970s. Frank Pucelik helped to create and develop the original idea. He was a key pioneer in the early days, working with Richard Bandler and John Grinder for several years before the more-famous developers – such as Robert Dilts – got involved.

The Magic of the Meta Model – a two-day training with Frank Pucelik

This was my first NLP training in over a year. I wanted to get Frank’s perspective on the field he helped to create and, particularly, what value he’s got from applying the Meta Model. I’ve learnt the Model in various formats over the years and I often return to my favourite challenge: “so what?”. What can we do with these words on paper that makes them come alive?

How would Frank distill the essence of his NLP into two days of training (about 12 training hours)?

First, let me pay tribute to Michael Carroll and his wonderful team at the NLP Academy. Little things make a big difference when you’re running events and Michael’s team make it all seem effortless. They’re there to offer assistance whenever you want it but they never get in your way when you don’t – it creates a lovely, relaxed atmosphere.

Frank’s smile filled the training room before we began. When he started talking, the first thing I noticed is how comfortably his voice flows from within his body. I think all verbal communication begins where the sound begins, and Frank has a range of resonance that touched every part of us. His use of rhythm and tonal shifts were also exquisite. Unsurprisingly, I looked around after a few minutes to see a room in trance.

I won’t summarise the whole training here; I don’t think that would be appropriate. What I’ll do is pick out a few distinctions that I think reflect Frank’s training style and impact. These are what seem most relevant to me right now; other people will have their own perspectives – please feel free to add yours below.

The first thing that stood out for me is how much Frank loves people. While Bandler and Grinder took their show on the road, from town to town, country to country, (first together and then separately), Frank moved across the world and began creating therapeutic communities for young drug addicts. That’s a very different dynamic. I have learnt a lot from both Bandler and Grinder but sometimes I find their trainings a bit rehearsed – even a bit robotic. Frank is fresh, alive with spirit, and when he said things like “the client has all the resources they need” it felt, to me, that he was simply speaking his truth.

One obvious example is how he spoke about his clients. One of his stories was 95% similar in structure to one of Bandler’s set pieces – at least the way I parsed it – yet the 5% difference made a whole world of difference. Bandler’s story presents himself as the hero and his client as a faceless shmuck, sucked into change by a clever trick. In contrast, Frank’s eyes filled with tears as he told us how one of his clients triumphed over her circumstances, made sense of her experiences and rebuilt her life, with a little assistance from him. She was the hero – she shone. We shone with her.

Trainers can’t not communicate their deep assumptions about the world – I’m keen to be around people with kind and loving assumptions.

In that spirit, let me also tip my metaphorical hat to Frank’s wife Olga who sat quietly at the back of the room but added something very special to the mix. She reminded me of John La Valle’s wife, Kathleen, who can be similarly unassuming and also makes an incredible contribution to events by radiating love and well being. People like Olga and Kathleen are easy to cherish.

I didn’t agree with everything Frank said. For example, I don’t think we process one – word – at – a – time – like he taught us. My internal representation for “not sad” is different to “sad” and I don’t think I need to access “sad” to access “not sad”. I’m more inclined to agree with Jackendoff and Pinker: we process language in clusters.

Even on a few points like this, though, Frank was extremely gracious about incorporating different perspectives. I didn’t chip in much but a couple of times during the weekend I questioned something and he artfully incorporated my ideas and reframed his pitch so we all got more value. He was very approachable in the breaks too. I think everyone got time to talk to him and ask questions one-to-one.

There’s something else that I’m struggling to put into words. I think a good training experience is usually a full-body experience and recapitulating it in words alone can be a challenge. However, I want to express this because, for me, it’s the difference that made the difference. Throughout the training, Frank used quotes patterns to tell us how he was teaching us, how to relate to him, what he wanted us to notice, and so on. It was on one level very sneaky and on another very straightforward. His structures are every bit as complicated as his fellow co-creators but, unlike them, he doesn’t hide inside the maze. He has very little armour on. It’s his Frankness that makes him unique and he lets Frank be seen.

If you ever get the chance to meet him, I highly recommend it.





Amazing Grace in Cherokee

By Chris Morris on 16th February 2011

This is Amazing Grace in Cherokee – so beautiful.





I’m wondering

By Chris Morris on 9th February 2011

If it required no effort, time or expense, which new skill would you love to acquire?

Anything you like.





Have you seen Elizabeth Chau?

By Chris Morris on 6th January 2011

Elizabeth Chau was my friend at school. She was sweet and kind and loving; one of those special people who always had a smile for you and always made you feel welcome. To know her was to love her.

It’s so very sad that we don’t know where Elizabeth is now or what has happened to her. She left college as usual on 16th April 1999 and was last seen in Ealing Broadway, West London.

The world is never quite the same after someone you love disappears with no warning and with no known reason. I can only imagine what it’s like when that someone is your daughter or sister.

Scotland Yard have issued a new appeal this week with a £15,000 reward for information. If you know anything, however trivial it may seem, please call the police on 020 8358 0300.

Here’s my original article from the Evening Standard:





Confessions of a Conjuror by Derren Brown

By Chris Morris on 23rd December 2010

I’ve just read Derren Brown’s latest book, Confessions of a Conjuror – the most elegantly kind book I’ve ever known.

I love it.

If you’ve read it too, what did you think?

Merry Christmas!





Spreading Joy at Christmas

By Chris Morris on 21st December 2010

My beautiful friend Anja shared this idea with me. I love it so much I thought I’d share it with you too.

“For a couple of years now, I’ve been sending a Christmas present to a random person who has a wish list on Amazon… just to bring unexpected joy to someone in the spirit of Christmas, surprising them with one of the items they wished for.”

Merry Christmas to Anja!!





The gold, frankincense and myrrh

By Chris Morris on 10th December 2010

As we count down to Christmas, I have a question: what happened to the gold, frankincense and myrrh?

For a couple whose kid was born in a barn, those kingly gifts must have been akin to winning the lottery.

Were they mentioned again in any of the later stories?





Rare video – Eric Robbie in action

By Chris Morris on 9th December 2010

For those who don’t know, Eric Robbie is a legendary figure in the field of NLP – one of the original master trainers and a co-developer with Richard Bandler.

This rare recording shows him in his early days as a trainer. It’s from two decades ago when he was first developing his system of Sub-Modality Eye Accessing Cues (SMEACs).

The SMEACs system is a remarkably accurate way of noticing from the outside what people are thinking about on the inside. For example, you can access their internal images and internal dialog.

In the video clip below, Eric focuses on how a lady constructs internal images of someone she doesn’t feel safe around. He then utilises her own metaphor to pace and lead her towards a positive change.

It’s a gentle piece of work and you may notice layers within layers if you watch it a few times.

This demonstration reflects one of the ways I find the SMEACs system very useful. When you know the unconscious metaphors that are driving someone’s experience, that’s when you can most profoundly influence them, easily.

Eric’s classes are rarely filmed and I think this is the only recording of him on the net. I hope you enjoy it and find it useful. Please join my mailing list if you’d like to hear about future trainings with Eric.





We’ll never know what we used to think

By Chris Morris on 7th December 2010

I had an interesting experience earlier when somebody asked me to compare what I used to think about X (person) with what I think about them now. I already knew I couldn’t give a truly accurate answer, but today was the first time I really thought about it and attempted to articulate why.

What popped out of my mouth is this…

  • Imagine a field of green grass, with some leaves blowing gently in the wind
  • Freeze the picture as if it’s a photograph and let the leaves fade away while the field remains
  • Imagine a very tall girl in a green dress driving a blue car past a green wall
  • In your mind, listen to your favourite song and try to remember when and where you first heard it
  • Now… return and imagine the same field of green grass. Is it the same shade of green as when you first imagined it? Perhaps it’s darker in tone or lighter? Is the imaginary wind blowing the imaginary leaves in the same direction and at the same speed?

My sense is we’ll never truly know. We construct each of our thoughts (including our thought-memories) in real-time and stored references are dynamically filtered by present conditions. So when we compare our thoughts/memories, what are we really comparing?

What I’m constructing right now and re-presenting as my old thoughts about X may be quite different to what I really thought about X in the past. Even if I read old pages from my journal, my thoughts now about my thoughts then will still be constructed in real-time, dynamically filtered by my present conditions.

That’s why I love this moment right now – it’s all I truly know.

What about you? Do you know what you thought before you read this post?





The flow of happiness

By Chris Morris on 1st December 2010

I love this flow diagram I got from the ultra-cool people at The School Of Life.

They’re organising a ‘self help summit’ that sounds intriguing.

We’re bringing together some of the most influential names from the self-help industry, along with some of its most vocal critics, to debate well-being and whether the happiness business is really helping.

Those names include Alain de Botton (who I think is fabulous) and Professor Richard Wiseman (who I’m skeptical about, especially since he reneged on his promise to send me a KitKat… and I love KitKats).

The wonderful Oliver Burkeman is also involved – he writes “This Column Will Change Your Life”  in The Guardian.

I don’t know what the event will be like. Happiness is a multi-million pound industry and it’s easy to be cynical about that. I’ve also written before about the tyranny of self improvement. However, I’ve seen amazing things that fill me with optimism. Miserable sods really can turn into genuinely happy and creative people. The program I ran in Whitehall showed that even civil servants can be joyful!

It will be interesting to see what the ‘self help summit’ throws up.

Here’s the flow chart – beautiful in its simplicity:





Are you happier in the summer?

By Chris Morris on 30th November 2010

I used to think the weather influenced me a lot. I felt happier and healthier in the summer and a bit grumpier and lazier in the winter.

Then I realised that in the summer I ate more salad and lighter food, drank more water, went outside and exercised more, partied more with my friends.

Now I still prefer the summer but I’ve changed my behaviour in the winter, and I like winter a lot more now. I eat salad and lighter food, drink more water, go outside and exercise more, and party with my friends. These are the things that make me feel good, more than the weather.





The Story of NLP – BBC Radio 4

By Chris Morris on 29th November 2010

A 30-minute documentary about NLP is about to be broadcast on BBC Radio 4 (11am UK time). It features interviews with Richard Bandler and others who have been key influences on the field, as well as some skeptics/critics.

You can listen live on the Radio 4 site or listen later on BBC iPlayer.

Please share your thoughts below. Can NLP ever be part of the mainstream?

The BBC sent me this promo:

Thousands claim NLP has changed their lives, but what exactly is it and is there any scientific evidence that it works?

NLP – Neuro-Linguistic Programming – is a psychological approach originally developed in 1970s California by John Grinder and Richard Bandler. It was radically different from mainstream therapies of the time, offering its users fast results instead of the years of commitment required for psychoanalysis.

Today NLP has found its way into all walks of life, spawning numerous practitioners and schools and offering many different ways to improve, from curing phobias or depression to becoming a better teacher, athlete or manager. Its most prolific gurus are multi-millionaires and, in the case of Paul McKenna, household names.

But for all its commercial success and numerous devotees, NLP is seen by its critics as just another pseudo-science without robust evidence to support its claims. So does NLP genuinely help with powerful behavioural change, or can its achievements be explained by the placebo effect?

William Little, journalist and author of The Psychic Tourist, finds out for himself what it’s like to experience NLP techniques, meets those who have used it to change their lives and interviews its co-founder Richard Bandler, the charismatic exponent of so-called “persuasion engineering”.





Gero Miesenboeck reengineers a brain

By Chris Morris on 21st November 2010

I enjoyed this video from Ted Talks and thought you might too.





Follow your joy

By Chris Morris on 18th November 2010

A simple thought today. My life would be less than it is without the beautiful and magical music of Robert Norton.

Have you heard him play? There are many free samples on his website and you can also download or order CDs.





Should I get a mac?

By Chris Morris on 17th November 2010

My pc has broken and I’m thinking of replacing it with a mac. Should I go for it? I started out iCurious and then fell in love with my iPhone and iPad. Is it just a phase though? I always thought I was a pc guy.

What’s your advice?





The walls that divide us aren’t real

By Chris Morris on 16th November 2010

Congratulations to Prince William and Kate Middleton. I wish I could get married too. ‘Civil partnerships’ are good to a point but I think it would be nicer and fairer if all couples could enjoy the same rights and responsibilities – regardless of gender/sexuality.





Supermarket-size hypocrisy from Waitrose

By Chris Morris on 3rd November 2010

I must be getting old because today I found myself getting annoyed about carrier bags. I know, I know. But it’s Waitrose’s fault (I say) – they have been getting more and more peculiar about carrier bags for months now and today I got a massive “you’re destroying the planet my grandchildren were supposed to inherit” kind of tut from the old woman behind the counter.

She’s been building up to it for a while. Every time I ask for a carrier bag – you have to ask now – she reaches down slowly and disapprovingly. Today the tut was finally allowed out  – a tut loud enough to repel all the ultraviolet radiation that my ozone-destroying ways have been letting in all this time.

The thing is, Waitrose wraps everything in plastic. I bought a small red chilli that they’d wrapped in a huge plastic bag, and a small chicken breast that they’d wrapped in a big plastic box.

Most of their greetings cards don’t use recycled paper, they actually reward customers who travel by car (I always walk) and don’t get me started on how they fly food thousands of miles rather than selling local produce.

Is my one little carrier bag really the problem?

I wonder if I can persuade Chas and Julie to write a new edition of their Compendium of Modern Hypocrisy?





Frank Pucelik and the early days of NLP

By Chris Morris on 30th September 2010

Frank Pucelik is one of the co-creators of NLP. I enjoyed meeting him last week – and it was a fascinating evening.

NLP (Neuro Linguistic Programming) is the science of behavioural modelling – a collation of ideas based on the premise that all human behaviour has a structure, and all structures can be modelled.

I’ve found NLP very useful but I’ve always had an odd sense that the field is dirty, that something undefinable isn’t quite right with it. Frank’s account of the very early days helped me to understand this better. I think dishonourable seeds grow dishonourable crops in a dishonourable field… and I think Frank’s story is important because it continues to resonate in the field of NLP today.

Much of what he said fits with the ‘official history’ of NLP, but there are some key deviations.

‘An Evening With Frank Pucelik’ was organised and hosted by Michael Carroll at NLP Academy.

Frank told us that he returned from the Vietnam war as a broken man, traumatised and lost. He met a kindred spirit in Richard Bandler, a warehouse assistant who worked for Bob Spitzer’s publishing company, Science and Behaviour Books. Frank and Richard had an intense friendship and helped each other to rebuild their lives. They were both good copiers and began copying the therapeutic approach of Fritz Perls, founder of Gestalt Therapy, using Bob Spitzer’s tapes and transcripts as references.

Their interest wasn’t in anything theoretical… they wanted to use Gestalt therapy to rebuild their own lives.

After a while, Frank said that he and Richard were doing a ‘cleaner’ version of what Fritz did because they didn’t have Fritz’s beliefs about which bits were important – they did what they observed working.

Frank was a student at the University of California (Santa Cruz) and that meant he could book rooms for him and Richard to practice in. They set up a Gestalt practice group and it attracted other students and also a linguistics professor called John Grinder. John sat quietly for the first two sessions and then approached Frank and Richard with some observations and questions. Frank says that John was the real genius of the group. Frank and Richard originally pretended that they were aware of all the things John pointed out, but later they invited John to join them and the three of them began working as a close team.

Where Frank deviates most from the ‘official history’ is by saying there were actually seven other members of this original team. Their names were Jeff Paris, Patrick and Terri Rooney, Marilyn Moskowitz, Ilene McCloud, Devra Canter and Treveleyan Houck. They were students at the university and contributed ‘a hell of a lot’. The team worked and played with modelling projects for 30+ hours each week – unpaid – and together they developed what they first called Meta and we now call NLP. These people have never been publicly recognised. Frank’s naming of them was a powerful moment – delivered with intense emotion.

This second generation of co-developers (recruited by Frank, John and Richard after the original team graduated from university) are the people we hear about now – Leslie Cameron-Bandler, Judith DeLozier, Robert Dilts, David Gordon and MaryBeth Anderson. Frank generally praised these people’s contributions, while firmly pointing out that they weren’t the original co-developers.

Frank said that John Grinder couldn’t bear to be around Robert Dilts at first because ‘he was like a walking computer’. John told Frank to ‘turn him into a human being or get rid of him’! After two weeks of working with Frank, Robert was reintroduced to the group and became a valuable member.

Frank described the living quarters in the early days. Bob Spitzer rented a house in his grounds to Gregory Bateson, a famous anthropologist and a key influence on NLP. Richard Bandler lived in a shack/tent made with paper walls and John Grinder lived in a converted chicken coop.

Frank said he dated Leslie before she married Richard Bandler, and he dated Judith before she married John Grinder. They all lived and worked in close proximity. Frank said they knew each other inside out – they were each other’s best friends, confidants, workmates and therapists – and trust between them was vital.

Soon after, Frank said that Richard Bandler asked him to leave the group and he reluctantly but willingly complied with Richard’s request. He says it wasn’t because he was scared for his own safety (he said he’d have relished a fight with Richard) but because he was worried for those he cared about. He wouldn’t expand on that.

Frank said he lost his best friends and team mates at that point, and he found it difficult to leave but did so because he thought it was the right thing to do in the circumstances.

There’s a strong sense of injustice about the way he was ousted and the way other people have taken credit for his years of work, and the work of the other seven members of the original group.

At the same time, Frank said he remains very grateful to the group because they helped him rebuild his life after Vietnam. He repeated that he was a broken man when he met Richard, as Richard was too, and they became human beings together.

My sense was that walking away was probably very good for Frank. While other NLPers of his generation often seem trapped in what they call freedom, Frank seems more alive than most, more open, more free. He hasn’t got stuck in NLP but has moved on to a successful business career and now runs many social projects in the Ukraine. His work with drug rehab and therapeutic communities is pioneering and wonderful… and more on that another time.

A final thought – Frank said he thought that Richard Bandler liked to have only one close male friend at a time, and that these close friendships have helped to shape his way of being in the world. Richard has said similar in the past, joking that he used to have a John but the John got broken so he got a new John. (John Grinder and John La Valle.) In between the Johns he had an Eric Robbie, and before all of that he had a Frank Pucelik. There have been others in between too. It was fascinating for me to meet Frank and see that, in looks, in mannerisms, and in ways of being in the world, Frank is a striking balance between Eric Robbie and John La Valle, and extremely similar to both. NLP has been shaped by a whole series of people who haven’t had fair credit for their work. Many have been delibrately written out of history. And while the field has undoubtedly made many good things possible, and personally I’ve benefited a great deal, I think the unexplainable sense of dishonour will linger until proper credit is given where it’s due.





Is it the Loch Ness Monster?

By Chris Morris on 13th September 2010

The NHS in Scotland spends nearly as much on homeopathy as the NHS in England, even though there are 10x more people in England. Why are they so into homeopathy in Scotland? There must be something in the water up there!