The ethos of quality

One thing I admire about Japanese culture is the ethos of doing something “full-assed”, as my son puts it: “In Japan, there is no half-assing stuff. If they do something, they do it full-assed”. You might not like the metaphor, but I do. I imagine either sitting comfortably on a chair, grounded and happy where I am or uncomfortably holding my balance, trying not to fall off. In the first case, I can be present to what I am doing, in the second, I am more present to not trying to fall off. I feel much happier in the first state.

I also feel that I owe trying to attain this state to whoever the people involved in my activity are. When I am playing the piano, I practice with no-one listening until I can be present to the music. When I am dancing, I try to be present to our co-creation of the dance and not to how I look or what the next steps are. When I am cooking, I don’t serve a dish that I don’t know how to make (unless announced to the eaters in a spirit of experimentation – but then, everyone is in enjoying the experimentation).

In August 2025, I took part in a week-long choir course in Tuscany. It was great – lovely people, 6 hours of music every day, great food, great weather – nothing left to wish for. I learned about my strong preference for the “ethos of quality” as described above in that course. It became clear very quickly that the repertoire chosen for this group of people exceeded its abilities. The directors must have faced a difficult decision: Let the repertoire go and choose something else short notice, something that would make the current abilities of this impromptu choir shine, or trudge forward with the planned program. They must have decided to stick with the plan as there were no changes, and we plodded along.

Don’t get me wrong, it was still a lot of fun, as I could learn to sing beautiful pieces of music and connect with lovely people from 8 countries. Until the day of the concert came. I felt so horrible standing up on a podium and presenting something that to my mind was not presentable. Both the singers and the audience were present to “the attempt of making beautiful music, which sadly failed.” Had I been the director, I would have made a different decision: Do what is possible to do in full presence to the music and the audience.

Now, why I am telling you this, other than to vent my frustration? I think that the “ethos of quality” is important to me in coaching. There are two modes: In the first mode, I am practicing something, demonstrating something for learning purposes of others or providing proof of my level of coaching (e.g. in an assessment for ICF – whatever you may think about it). I am present to what I am practicing or demonstrating as well as (hopefully) to the client. The second mode is full presence to the client without any need to do anything else. Distinguishing these modes is important for our learning. When we are learning to coach, I think it would be good to determine what we are doing in any given moment: practicing or performing. Of course, you can still learn from a recording of your performance, but when you are performing, you are with the client.

“Practice makes permanent” rather than “perfect”. Therefore, it is important to decide what we are going to be practicing. For Solution Focused or InterActional coaching, we hopefully practice co-creation, centering the client, being influential in future focused and resource-oriented ways. It sounds contradictory: practicing co-creation. However, even improvisation needs to be practiced. In jazz, dance, improv theatre, improvisation is practiced – why not in coaching.

Once I have practiced enough (with willing practice partners) and know that I can be present with what I am doing rather than with my “trying”, I can start coaching real clients. Maybe this is an interesting way of gauging whether you are “ready”?

In any case, if you are interested in “half-assing” things with us in our practice space, why not come to one of our free coaching meetups and exchanges?

‍