The helping professions can get a bit of a bad rap as “touchy feely” as if nothing substantial happens. It’s just a lot of talking about problems and feelings. No closing sales deals, smashing the budget or making record profits. No technology innovations or high profile product launches.

And yet there is such a pull to do exactly that. Get results. Meet targets. Make sure people complete court orders. There is a constant drive to see people get better, have better, go better.

We know the more we try to rush, the less progress we’re likely to make. We know the value of slowing down in order to go further. And yet… it can be so hard to slow down. Or to even catch that we’ve sped up in the first place.

Sometimes it helps to stop first. Interrupt the movement, come to a standstill and then start again at a slower pace. And we may need strategies to make this happen.

I remember a mindfulness teacher telling a story of a friend who set his watch to go off at 2:30 every day to take a moment to stop and be in the present moment. Over time he observed a remarkable coincidence. Right as the watch pinged, something amazing would happen. An eagle would fly overhead. A deer would cross his path. Until he realised these amazing moments were happening all the time, he just needed to find a way to notice.

So what helps you to stop so that you can slow down and be more more fully connected to what is happening? Perhaps it’s an alarm on a phone or watch. A reminder on your office wall. Or practicing the habit of introducing a pause into a conversation – “Let’s just both stop a moment and reflect on what isn’t being said’ – so you can start again with renewed attention and intention.

Helpers want to help. Carers want to care. Yet there will always be those moments when you need to do the thing the other person doesn’t want you to do.

Maybe you need to say no when they want to hear yes. Perhaps you can’t provide a desperate sought after resource like housing, financial assistance or a service. Or you need to notify child services or inform a corrections worker of missed appointments. Or exit a person from your program before they are ready.

None of these are easy, particularly if you have worked hard to develop a relationship and the action you need to take is likely to create conflict or opposition.

So how do you want the person to experience the interaction? What would give them an experience of feeling seen, valued and looked after?

It might be as simple a gesture as gently acknowledging this is not what they hoped would happen. Or holding the space with kindness and non-judgment. We can enquire more deeply into what they are experiencing. We can ask what they need from us and respect their choice if we’re not the right person to support them right now.

We might not be able to take the action they would most want us to make, but we can at least try to make sure they know they are heard and cared for in a difficult situation.

If pop songs were research studies, we would have millions of randomised control trials on the fundamental importance of love for humans. And yet where does love come into the actual research we use to guide our health and community services?

Most movies are love stories. Including action movies, even if mainly in the form of a story driven by a need for protection or revenge. But love is remarkably absent in our treatment delivery models for services whose whole purpose is to provide care.

We know people are more likely to thrive when they feel valued and connected. Yet our most of our treatment protocols read more like an instruction sheet for an IKEA bookshelf.

No system is perfect. There are economic limitations and a need to provide consistency and measurable outcomes. But the almost total absence of one of the most profoundly healing forces we know is… odd. And maybe not particularly helpful.

I’ve invited many groups to have conversations in pairs about a couple of core strengths they use to do their job and then discuss a couple of core values that helps them to do their job.

While there are always individual differences, one clear pattern emerges for many people: strengths are easier to name but harder to own, while values are harder to name but easier to own.

When people talk about their strengths, it can feel empowering. But people also often describe a self-conscious discomfort that someone could question their choice or disagree. Or there’s a concern that they might be seen as boasting or arrogant.

When people talk about their values, they sometimes have difficulty pinning them down. But once they do, there is a feeling of connection with something both deeply personal and bigger than them.

And when people share their values they tend to feel more connection with each other. The exercise dissolves, the self consciousness fades, and they slip into a conversation that can be hard to rein in.

Strengths are resources – they help with how we do things. Values are forces – they drive why we do things.

Let’s face it, the news is depressing, full of dread, scandal and tragedy. Conflict and corruption grab headlines far more easily than compassion and cooperation. It’s easy to get demoralised.

I’ve had the privilege of meeting several thousand people over more than twenty years of facilitating workshops and it continually blows me away how normal it is, yet again, to have another great group of people turn up for training.

Of course there’s been the occasional disgruntled person or group that’s frying around the edges with burnout. But it’s remarkably, consistently rare. Our communities are rich with so many good people that don’t make the news – quiet stories of courage and kindness, commitment and advocacy.

It’s important that we don’t sentimentalise this good nature, leading to token acknowledgment at best and outright exploitation at worst. I’m convinced that thirty percent of community services are funded by people’s compassion. People who care for others deserve fair pay and adequate resources.

And the reality is some of these good people have not so great moments in practice. I sure do. There is no such thing as the perfect conversation. And humans get frustrated, make assumptions, have blindspots and lose focus.

But we also need to celebrate just how many people turn up over and over to look after others, whether in their job, their local community or in the global community. It’s pretty cool when you think about it.