My Superpower Is Invisible (And That’s Fine)

People occasionally ask me what my superpower is.

It’s a fashionable question. It usually comes with good intent. And every time, my inner Englishman squirms slightly, because we’re not really meant to brag.

And Coach Andrew also hesitates.

Coaching, at its best, isn’t about the coach at all. The moment the spotlight shifts too far toward my capability, something essential risks being lost. The work doesn’t happen because of a dazzling move or a personal edge; it happens because attention is placed carefully, and then left there long enough for the other person to do their own thinking.

So the question lands with a kind of double tension: social politeness on one side, professional instinct on the other. I understand what’s being asked. I also know that the most important part of my work is rarely the part anyone sees.

Why techniques aren’t the real signature

Coaching (and leadership, and facilitation) loves techniques.

Powerful questions

Frameworks

Cards

Models

That move that made the moment turn

I use all of these. I teach them. I enjoy them. But they aren’t the craft. Two people can ask the same question often word for word, and yet get completely different outcomes. One opens something essential. The other feels thin, or rushed, or oddly misplaced.

The difference isn’t what was asked. It’s who was listening, and how.

When visible moves become performative

As a supervisor and mentor coach, there’s a subtle trap we can fall into as practitioners. And I should know as it's an area I work on in myself.

We start to equate usefulness with movement. Value with visibility. Impact with doing something noticeable.

So we lean forward. We intervene. We reach for the next good question.

And sometimes, the move is more about reassuring ourselves than serving the client.

Clients feel this even if they can’t name it. The conversation keeps going, but something tightens. The rhythm gets lost.

The dance: participation and leading

Good coaching conversations live in a tension.

On one side, participation:

being in it, affected by it,

sensing what’s happening in the room and in yourself.

On the other,

leading: holding direction,

choosing when to speak, when to wait, when to nudge.

This isn’t a switch you flip. It’s a dance. And in that dance, I've found the most important listening isn’t just to the other person’s words, it’s to yourself inside the conversation. Your body. Your timing. The impulse to step in. The equally strong invitation to stay still.

Presence becomes part of the intervention

Here’s the part that still feels slightly radical, even after years of practice.

Often, the intervention isn’t the question you ask. It’s the state you’re in when you decide whether to ask it.

Listening inwardly while listening outwardly. Noticing when your system is calm enough to wait. Letting the pressure drain rather than pushing for progress.

When that happens, presence itself becomes active. It changes the field. It slows things down just enough for something truer to surface. Nothing flashy happens. Something important does.

What clients feel (even if they can’t name it)

Clients rarely say:

“I appreciated how you listened to yourself before speaking.”

They say things like:

“I felt really heard.”

“There was space to think.”

“I don’t know why, but that landed.”

“That stayed with me.”

They’re responding to something invisible. The quality of your attention.

A gentle competency reflection (for coaches)

For those familiar with the ICF language, this kind of work sits most clearly in Maintains Presence and Listens Effectively, not as abstract competencies, but as lived behaviors.

Maintaining presence shows up here as resisting the urge to move into action too early, tolerating uncertainty, and staying with what’s emerging rather than forcing progress.

Listening effectively shows up as listening beyond words, to beliefs, assumptions, energy, and readiness, including listening to yourself inside the conversation.

What makes this practical, not philosophical, is what comes next.

When presence and listening are strong, contracting becomes cleaner. The goal, the why, and the what are properly understood before rushing into the how. Actions then come from the client, feel reasonable to them, and fit their reality. Follow-through improves not because the action was smarter, but because the timing was right.

In other words, presence and listening don’t replace results.

They make the right results more likely.

And that’s enough

So if you’re looking for a superpower you can demonstrate on cue, brand neatly, or teach in three bullet points, this may disappoint.

But if you care about real conversations, real presence, real change?

Then learning to listen to yourself while listening to the other — and trusting that dance — isn’t a weakness.

It’s the work.

And like most things worth doing, it does its best work quietly.