Every profession has injuries of overuse – the better you get at something, the more you do it, the more likely there will be wear and tear. Just ask a carpet layer about their knees.

Supporting and advocating for others is serious work. The themes are often heavy, stories are frequently tragic and the suffering can be immense. We also need to be quite considered, to consciously respond rather than automatically react.

And that seriousness can take its toll. So we need counter actions. Things we do that deliberately create a healthy opposite to even out imbalances. Including seriousness. Especially seriousness.

We need to protect a sense of spontaneity and play in work hours and in our lives in general. It may even involve a slight bending of rules, a smudging of the professional veneer.

I’m not talking about shortchanging clients or embezzlement, breaching organisational policy or legislation, being rude or unprofessional. Our actions need to be aligned with our core values and be defensible – responsible in the broader sense. But our actions can also inspire a feeling of mischief or glee in the moment that lightens the heart, makes us smile or laugh. And at its best it’s contagious, deepening our connection with our peers and the people we support.

We often hear time is our most precious resource, it’s the only thing we can’t replace or get back. And I often get asked in workshops how we can fit person-centred practices like Motivational Interviewing into already busy appointments. It feels like there just isn’t time to add anything more.

It can be helpful to think of attention as being as valuable, if not more valuable, a resource than time. What we point our attention at is what we experience. We don’t experience what we do not pay attention to, even if it’s right there in front of us.

When we seek support, we want someone to give us their full attention. And yet as Buddhist nun Pema Chödrön observed (and I’m probably paraphrasing here), “one of the hardest places to remain truly present is in the middle of a conversation, because we are activated by everything”.

When we are supporting someone else, what are we attending to at any given moment? If we can train ourselves to stay focused on the person – their experience, where they are at, what they need – there is a very good chance we will use whatever time we have better.

There will always be times when you’re not sure what you have to offer – the work is complex, your resources are low, or you just feel plain old stuck.

It helps to know your strengths, what you are able to do well, even at 70% of your best performance or less. Yet these are often the very things we most take for granted or feel the most invisible when we’re focused on what else we think we should be doing or where we need to go next.

Perhaps it is your capacity to listen deeply, offer a safe space, or just be a genuinely kind and caring person.

“I’m just listening” might become “I’m really listening”. The safety you create offers a place for someone to experience what it feels like to let their guard down a little. Your acceptance of the other person for who they are provides a concrete example for how they might accept themselves.

And in that moment you might both be able to feel less pressured, catch your breath and create room for the next step forward to emerge.

Some days I feel like I know nothing. It can come with a quiet urge to give up or step away. And it’s always worth reflecting on what I might want or need to work on.

But equally, it’s worth reflecting on what I have learned since yesterday, to make me feel like I know nothing today.

Perhaps the feeling of knowing nothing comes from an expanded perspective, a deeper awareness or a fresh insight. Perhaps it’s a blind spot coming into light where it can be examined more closely.

Or perhaps it’s a reminder to hold what I do believe I know more lightly, with more curiosity and less certainty.