The Summer Courses, 2010 (Intro)
August 27, 2010 § Leave a comment
I take a Masters, called Personal Coaching with NLP and DBM in Málaga, Southern Spain.
(That’s Neuro-Linguistic Programming and Developmental Behavioural Modeling to the uninitiated. Basically both are systems to improve a persons’ psychological wellbeing and learning ability.)
In fact, I’ve taken this Masters twice, completing it once last year and doing it again this year in order to really understand and have control of the different models and ways of working that it presents. And that’s so as to really serve my clients better. Plus it’s fun to do.
Now every summer, the same good people at the school, Coach Creativo, put on a couple of intensive courses of the same methodology taught in the Masters but for people looking to explore and improve their abilities around their creative process, and around the area of their personal relationships.
Being a part of the school for a couple of years now, I wanted to fill these gaps in my understanding of Coaching, Creativity and Relationships – and of course, any excuse to improve myself in these areas was too good an offer to pass up.
In the following few posts I want to share some models and some personal learnings that have proved absolutely vital to me, really affecting me in a positive way. I have listed the way in which these models work and what you have to do so that you can use them yourself should you find a relevant topic. I’ve also included my personal story from my creative process to illustrate how the models impacted me and also to share some real pearls that I learnt.
You can skip straight to the models by clicking the links here:
I hope that these prove in some way significant to you. If you have any questions about the models or about anything else to do with Coaching, NLP or DBM that you may want to investigate, please get in touch with me at jordanlukecollier (at) googlemail (dot) com.
La Cartuja de La Cazalla
Before launching into the course and the exercises themselves, I’d like to take a moment to walk you around La Cartuja. Now, from what I understood of the history lesson that did go on for a long, long time, the Cartujos were monks from Grenoble, Southern France, that wanted to expand, shall we say. They wanted to continue their way of live further away from their origin so that they could be free to create art, and to generally be free and at one with themselves and with their faith. Much more I can’t really divulge as this is not a history blog and the ire of ardent cartujanos would be too much to bear should they choose to get involved with this very public mangling of the facts. (Plus the homework would just be too long and enduring to do). But let’s just say that this Cartuja, some one and a half hours’ north of Seville, deep into a barren land of nowhere and a certain magical wonderland of nightmares, is psychoactively organized to freak out even those of you with the sternest of stomachs.
Now exactly why this place will freak you out has not been fathomed at time of writing. It could be that the nearest inkling of civilization is fifteen kilometers away, and between us and them live wild boar, which the townsfolk deliciously fry up and serve with chips or in a stew. It could also be that the insanely hot Andalucian days and the cool almost desert-like nights play with your biological regulatory system to such an extent that they stir your insides up and set you off on strong and passionate emotional black-outs. It could be that the unerring clear sky turns one hundred shades of blue and red until it blackens for many hours, allowing the full moon that seemingly happens twice a month here to shine all the more fervently, turning the permanent dwellers in these few buildings into unpredictable werewolves should you request the wrong thing at the wrong moment. It’s also possible that the course we’ve chosen to partake in, hypnotically designed to draw you under and prod around with the most sensitive parts of your unconscious mind, is the culprit. Or it may be that simply, over the course of seven centuries, many people have arrived here with their issues, and that many people have left, well, different. Now that’s not always good different nor bad different. I guess it has to be experienced to be known.
There is a huge creative tendency around the many buildings, quarters, centres of prayer and ruins that scatter the site. These people, ailingly arriving, put themselves to paint, to sculpt, and to play with ceramics. (If there is a verb to go here, let me know). They probably wrote, related and sang, but of this remains no trace. However what is evident of the creations here are their stangeness, their suffering, and their incompletion – three elements I take as mirrors that can really arouse a severe discomfort within a visiting and struggling creative.
These traits are not limited to the bizarre pots and paintings that adorn every uncovered angle of the spacious premises. Unlike it’s lucky neighbour located within Seville’s city limits, La Cartuja de La Cazalla has been unfortunate not to profit from well-funded architectural refits. Severe mishmashes of style, material and workmanship are to be found right throughout the site, intermingling with the artwork and serving an unknowable maze of an indecipherable intricacy of laze and incompleteness, and out the back, bare-faced ruin.
In fact, there is a certain wrongness to the construction and artwork of this place that’s perfectly described by the following anecdote that arrived to me halfway through my first week here. As a place a little left of centre and a little out of town, many of the expositions are put on specifically to challenge, antagonize and shock the visitor. When a Japanese comic book display of genocide, torture and pornography was placed along the inside walls of the actually operative chapel in the summer of 2008, religious tourists that drove to the Cartuja from as far north as Burgos left in disgust.
It’s easy to forget that as both inhabitant and expressive Cartuja-owner, your obtaining of heritage funds is dependent on the accolade and admiration given to your site by it’s visitors. And when people visit monasteries, sadly enough as is the current case in this world, people more often than not want monasteries.
Saying all that, the place is not uncomfortable, and it’s certainly not ugly. Just take a pic-nic and a bottle of wine to the edge of the ruins on a starry night and you will not feel ungrateful for being here. Stroll along the dewey grass in the early morning, drink freshly made juice from the fruit that grows within the compound, and dive into a natural and algae-infused freshwater swimming pool to cool down after a sweaty half-sleep, and you cannot fail to feel invigorated.
But do not wander off too far on your own. Do not try to escape the grounds in your pyjamas in the middle of the night, especially if there’s hootin’ or howlin’ afoot. And do not even attempt to stub out your lit cigarette in the grass out back; certainly not that long, dry grass that adjoins onto the forest, Henry.
With all that in mind, I want to add that I did in fact do the Creativity and Ceramics course in 2009. I don’t know why but I was sick for three days and three nights straight.
And three days and three nights after I got home after that, I left home and got to Barcelona three days and three nights after that. I have never been the same.
Exercises start on the following page.
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