The Space Between the Questions: Coaching as a Way of Leading
The Space Between the Questions: Coaching as a Way of Leading
Coaching, at its best, doesn’t start with a question. It starts with a pause.
A pause that allows presence. That invites reflection. That signals: this space is yours.
When I think about what coaching has become for me — beyond methodology, beyond certification — I come back to that space. The space between the questions. The quiet moment where insight becomes visible, and potential begins to move.
This article is not just about coaching. It’s about what coaching does — to people, to systems, to the very fabric of how we show up as leaders.
It also builds on a recent blog series — my personal coaching journey — which began in Germany with theory, deepened in China through practice, and evolved into a lived philosophy. That series was about becoming. This article is about being.
The Moment That Changes Everything
We often think of transformation as a thunderclap—loud, unmistakable, dramatic. But more often, it begins as a whisper. For me, the whisper came in a crowded training room in China, during a coaching and leadership development program. I was participating not as the expert, but as the student—eyes wide, heart cracked open. Among the facilitators was Master Coach Lisa Wynn, a woman of remarkable clarity and presence. Her words were precise, her energy unapologetically honest. She didn’t teach coaching as a set of techniques; she embodied it as a way of being.
Though I wasn’t her client, our work together left an indelible mark on me. Lisa didn’t just facilitate learning—she created space. That space allowed everyone in the room to come forward as both teacher and learner, human and professional, vulnerable and powerful. It was in that room that I first felt what it meant to be held in a truly developmental space. A space that doesn’t push you, but invites you forward.
At the time, I didn’t realize this moment would mark the beginning of a fundamental shift in my career—from leadership to coaching, from directing others to walking beside them. But something inside me clicked. I started asking different questions. I listened with more curiosity. And I began to notice what happened when I stopped needing to be the expert.
One of my early insights was that potential often reveals itself in quiet ways. It doesn’t always look like performance. It’s not always the loudest voice in the room or the fastest problem-solver. It’s the person who is willing to pause, to reflect, to take responsibility for their growth. I learned to spot these subtle signals—and then, more importantly, to trust them.
That’s where structure began to enter the picture. I didn’t just want to inspire people—I wanted to support them to grow. And sustainable growth, I discovered, requires more than inspiration. It requires intention, framework, and the kind of accountability that builds confidence rather than pressure.
At this stage of my journey, I was still defining myself—figuring out how to translate years of leadership experience into something deeper. I started small, mentoring within my organization, testing models, adapting coaching tools to business realities. What emerged was not a fixed methodology, but a flexible mindset. One anchored in purpose, empathy, and development.
Blake Cai, one of my early colleagues in this period, captured that spirit in his words:
“Jens is such a fabulous passionate people leader to work with, believing in growing people as top priority. His learning agility enables him to do whatever new tasks with ease, and I admire most his critical thinking and curiosity to learn.”
Blake’s feedback reminded me that leadership and coaching don’t live in separate houses. The best leaders coach. And the best coaches lead—with integrity, by example.
Still, it wasn’t always easy. Early on, I often felt the tension between delivering results and nurturing growth. It felt like a paradox. Could I really hold space for others’ development and still drive performance? Could I trust the process of coaching enough to loosen my grip on control?
That question found an answer when I began supporting individuals during key professional transitions. One of those individuals was Fred Lui, who took on a new leadership role and reached out for coaching support. Fred’s testimonial, shared after our coaching journey, still grounds me:
“It was my pleasure to have had Jens as my executive coach… We’ve detailedly analyzed my direct supervisors, my peers and some of my direct reports… I developed a high-level calendar to incorporate the frequent business travels required for the new job and also keep balance of my family life… With his support I achieved very good performance in EnerSys and was listed as ‘High Potential’ talent.”
What struck me in Fred’s words wasn’t just the outcome—it was the process. We cocreated a developmental path grounded in self-awareness, communication, and personal structure. His transformation didn’t come from grand strategies but from thoughtful, steady reflection and courageous self-inquiry.
These early experiences cemented a core belief I still hold today: People don’t grow because we push them. They grow because we hold the space, believe in their potential, and walk alongside them with care and challenge.
That’s when I began to form the foundations of what would later become my coaching framework—one that integrates system thinking, practical structure, and emotional presence. The philosophy was simple: growth happens at the intersection of clarity and compassion. It is both inner work and outer alignment.
Looking back, this section of my journey wasn’t about mastering coaching—it was about becoming a coach. Learning to listen without agenda. To trust silence. To speak with intention. To stay grounded when clients felt lost. And perhaps most importantly, to do my own work. Because if coaching is a mirror, then I had to be willing to see myself clearly first.
This was my beginning. And it didn’t start with a bang. It started with a moment of being truly seen—and choosing to carry that gift forward.
Becoming the Coach People Needed — Not the One I Thought I Had to Be
There’s a moment every coach must face, whether they realize it or not: the recognition that your journey is not just about mastering a set of tools—it’s about discovering who you become in the presence of others’ growth.
In the early years, I often caught myself trying to be “the perfect coach.” I was attentive, prepared, methodical. But beneath it all, there was still a subtle pressure to add value, to prove that I deserved to be in the room. Then, one day, I stopped asking, “Am I doing this right?” and began asking, “Who am I being with this person right now?” That single question became a compass for my work.
Otto Nowack, a client from the corporate world, expressed this shift well after a series of online sessions we shared:
“Jens was able to build a trusting relationship from the very first session, which made the discussions and especially the results very productive. The coaching sessions were optimally structured, (positively) challenging, and very well prepared.”
Reading his words, I remember how much that experience shaped me—not because I had all the answers, but because I had finally given myself permission to meet him human to human. It was the quality of presence that mattered, not the quantity of insight delivered.
This evolution wasn’t linear—it required undoing years of corporate conditioning. I had spent much of my earlier career operating in high-performance environments where outcomes were everything. And while I still value excellence, coaching taught me that transformation doesn’t always announce itself with results. Sometimes, it reveals itself in a moment of silence that lands differently. Or in a question that lingers longer than expected.
At the same time, I started to notice something else: clients weren’t just growing— they were awakening. Not just becoming better professionals, but more grounded, reflective people. And their words often mirrored back parts of myself I was only beginning to accept.
Renée Klazinga, reflecting on a team coaching engagement, captured this dynamic beautifully:
“Jens coached us to create a common understanding, provided valuable tools, and asked important questions that helped us improve the communication and understanding of our roles within our team better—this all without the need to apply tough leadership or a topdown approach.”
What struck me most about Renée’s reflection was that it wasn’t about her learning from me—it was about what we co-created together. The absence of “top-down” wasn’t just a style preference—it was a fundamental shift in power dynamics. When coaching works, it decentralizes authority and distributes ownership. It invites people to step into their own authorship.
This was the turning point: I no longer saw coaching as a service. I saw it as a partnership. And that meant trusting the client’s wisdom as much as my own. It meant being okay with not knowing, and even more importantly, letting go of the need to fix.
As I matured in this identity, I found myself coaching not just individuals, but also teams and emerging leaders. These weren’t abstract engagements—they were real people facing real pressure: new roles, strategic pivots, personal cross-roads. One of them was Dr. Thomas Holleczek, a senior data leader at Red Bull. His words after our 8-month coaching journey still resonate deeply with me:
“With Jens’ direction, my career trajectory has changed and improved, and my confidence and capability have skyrocketed. I ultimately managed to land a job that I always wanted! Jens did not instruct me, but supported me and taught me to evaluate my options and skills by always asking the right questions.”
What I appreciate about Thomas’s story is that the outcome—landing the job he truly wanted—was just the visible part. The real story was in the invisible work: the questioning, the unpacking of doubt, the clarity that emerged from sitting with discomfort long enough for it to teach us something.
By this point, I had begun to integrate a rhythm in my coaching—a dance between challenge and care, structure and surrender. I became more comfortable disrupting when necessary, but never at the cost of safety. And I became more intentional about the reflective space I created—not just to think, but to feel, to imagine, to remember who we are beneath the noise.
This ethos is perhaps best expressed in the words of Natalia Schweizer, a fellow coach and entrepreneur:
“Die Zusammenarbeit mit Jens war sehr entspannend und intensiv zugleich. Ich bin Jens sehr dankbar dafür, dass ich ihn in meine Metapherwelt mitnehmen durfte, um daraus doch ganz brauchbare Lösungen für mich als Unternehmerin entwickeln… Ich empfehle die Zusammenarbeit mit Jens allen Menschen, die sich Coaching auf gleicher Augenhöhe wünschen!”
Translated:
“Working with Jens was both relaxing and intense. I am very grateful to him for joining me in my metaphorical world, helping me create meaningful solutions as an entrepreneur… I recommend working with Jens to anyone who seeks coaching on equal footing!”
Her words remind me why I chose this path in the first place. Not to impose my expertise, but to walk beside people in a way that honors their wisdom. To create coaching spaces that are not hierarchical, but human.
As this phase unfolded, I realized that being a coach isn’t about being impressive— it’s about being present. And ironically, it is in that presence that true transformation becomes possible.
This part of the journey taught me to trust the relationship more than the roadmap, to value spaciousness over speed, and to remember that even the smallest shifts— when held with care—can change the entire trajectory of a life.
Coaching with Structure and Heart — The System Behind the Shift
As my coaching identity matured, I noticed a subtle but powerful pattern: the most effective conversations didn’t just feel good—they moved something. They created clarity, shifted energy, and catalyzed action. There was a rhythm to it. A kind of quiet choreography that, once understood, could be both followed and adapted.
This is where the engineer in me met the coach. I started asking myself: What if we could map this experience—not to control it, but to deepen it?
Out of that inquiry emerged the foundation of a structured approach that honored both precision and presence. It wasn’t a rigid model—it was a living system. One that allowed for deep listening, bold questioning, reflective learning, and transformative insight—all without losing the human connection at the core.
One of my clients, Fred Lui, reached out during a pivotal leadership transition. He had just taken on a regional leadership role in Asia and wanted to ensure a smooth integration—professionally and personally. Over the course of our one-year coaching engagement, we created a tailored framework that addressed both internal clarity and external complexity:
“Together with Jens, we’ve detailly analyzed my direct supervisors, my peers, and some of my direct reports with each person’s personality and managerial style and reflected on my own behavior during the transition period. We successfully established my network mapping in the new organization… With his support, I achieved very good performance in EnerSys and was listed as ‘High Potential’ talent by the company.”
Fred’s results weren’t accidental. They were the outcome of structured reflection, strategic focus, and emotional intelligence working together in real time. We used a coaching calendar to manage priorities and maintain balance between highfrequency travel and family life. We used mapping tools to navigate complex relationships. And we worked with insight loops—moments of self-awareness turned into action.
But structure alone is never enough.
The heart of coaching still lies in holding space—especially for those moments when clients feel most uncertain, vulnerable, or stuck. One of the most rewarding aspects of this work has been witnessing leaders rediscover their own voice and agency in these moments.
Daniela Caserotto-Leibert, a venture capital executive, reflected on this balance after our eight-month coaching engagement:
“Jens is an extremely experienced and inspiring leader. During our journey, we worked on my personal development and growth ambitions. The result? I got empowered in taking decisions, implementing and managing them… Paired with check-ins and an openness and trust which was second to none, Jens went the extra mile sharing insightful articles and research papers based on our conversations.”
Her transformation wasn’t the result of a breakthrough moment, but of sustained inquiry. We built a developmental path through regular rhythm—coaching dialogues, reflection points, and personalized content that allowed her to integrate insight into action.
This kind of systemic coaching—where structure scaffolds transformation without stifling it—became the signature of my evolving approach.
It also meant learning when to challenge and when to step back. As Giada Ferrari, an executive coach I mentored during her development journey, shared:
“I really appreciated Jens’ honest feedback and his pragmatic approach… He is a wonderful coach who also has extremely valuable management experience within a global company, which helps him better understand his coaching counterparts.”
Giada’s words reflect what I’ve come to believe deeply: Coaches must know the terrain their clients walk. They don’t need to have lived every story—but they must understand the pressures, politics, and patterns that shape the leader’s world.
And so my approach continued to evolve. I began blending vertical development (growing leadership capacity) with horizontal awareness (navigating complexity). I wove together coaching presence with design thinking, reflective learning with strategic action. What emerged was an integrative, systemic coaching practice—one that served not only individual clients but also broader leadership ecosystems.
This intentional blend also showed up in my work with high-potential talent and team interventions. When teams begin to see themselves as part of a living system, new kinds of conversations become possible. Assumptions are questioned. Accountability is redefined. Purpose is rediscovered.
Peter Schwenkel, a regional business director I had the privilege to coach and mentor, described it this way:
“Jens is a great coach and leadership role model, not just for myself but within the whole Bosch organization… Over the course of several months, Jens was my coach and mentor on my way to become ICF ACC certified. He was such an encouragement and source of inspiration… and helped me progress significantly in my own coaching journey.”
Peter’s journey was a vivid example of how structured development—when infused with care—can catalyze a ripple effect. He didn’t just become a more capable leader. He became a mentor, a multiplier.
And that, to me, is what coaching is ultimately about.
It’s not about creating dependency. It’s about building internal capacity—the kind that outlasts any engagement and continues to grow even when the coaching relationship concludes.
By this point in my journey, the distinctions had become clear:
• Coaching isn’t fixing. It’s facilitating emergence.
• Structure isn’t a cage. It’s a container for freedom.
• Tools are helpful. But presence is transformative.
These are not just philosophies. They are the daily choices we make as coaches. And when these choices are made with care, intention, and humility, something extraordinary begins to unfold—not just for the client, but for us as well
When Coaching Becomes Culture — Scaling Trust and Presence in Organizations
There’s a moment in every coach’s journey when the question shifts from “How can I support this individual?” to “What if the way we work together could shape a team, a culture, even a system?”
For me, this shift emerged gradually—first through subtle ripple effects, then more deliberately as I stepped into roles where coaching wasn’t just a craft. It was a culture-building strategy.
What began as one-on-one work soon echoed beyond the coaching room. Clients would share how their meetings had changed. Their teams opened up. Feedback landed more clearly. Reflection became a habit. I realized that coaching, when integrated fully into leadership behavior, becomes more than a developmental tool. It becomes a way of operating. A cultural language. A leadership posture.
This realization deepened during my time leading a global HR expert organization. I wasn’t just applying coaching in isolated sessions — I was embedding it into how we engaged, aligned, and made decisions across functions and geographies. I witnessed firsthand how coaching could move from being a service to becoming a strategic capability that lived at every level of the business.
One of the most powerful experiences of this kind came through my collaboration with Lisa Wynn, a Master Coach with whom I co-facilitated leadership and coaching programs in China. Her reflection captured the essence of what we were building:
“Jens is a powerhouse of empowerment and coaching skills… Whatever is needed in the moment in the service of developing a coaching culture, Jens is there first to deliver what is required. An inspirational leader of the coaching movement, not just in Bosch but for the world.”
We weren’t running programs. We were building a mindset. We were modeling a different kind of leadership—one that paused, asked, held space, and invited others to take ownership.
That shift doesn’t happen through frameworks alone. It happens through consistency. Through modeling. Through leaders choosing curiosity over control— again and again.
Jenny Jiang, a senior leader I coached virtually during a period of career reflection, captured the essence of this shift:
“One unique thing about Jens is that he has the character and charisma needed to build trust with strangers in a virtual environment. You can feel his sincerity through his voice. He listens to people’s hearts… I totally trusted him, as a genuine person, as a professional coach, as a true friend.”
Trust—even across borders, time zones, and screens—becomes the foundation for something larger than just performance. It becomes the fabric of how people work together. And when leaders feel safe, they create safety. They listen more, react less, and begin asking questions that change the culture—not just their own behavior.
Hua Taojie, a former team member who later became a coaching client, described this transformation from the inside out:
“What I am doing nowadays to my team is to practice what [Jens] has demonstrated to me as a leader and inspired me as a coach… You have brought the awareness to me that it is a matter of myself if I would and be able to change myself. Your kindness and belief in the potentials of human beings are the best gift to me as your coachee.” Taojie’s words reveal what happens when coaching becomes self-generating. Not transactional, but transformational. Not held by one coach, but carried forward by every leader it touches.
This is why I believe coaching cultures aren’t built through toolkits or training modules alone. They’re built through presence in the right places—in performance reviews, yes, but also in informal moments. In how feedback is given. In how silence is respected. In how leaders respond, not just react.
When coaching becomes part of the organization’s nervous system, something fundamental shifts. Teams move with more clarity. People speak with more honesty. And leadership becomes less about control, and more about coherence.
That’s the point where coaching stops being an activity and becomes an identity.
And that’s when culture starts to evolve—not from the top down, but from the inside out.
Signature Presence — Where Everything Comes Together
By this point in my journey, I had stopped trying to define myself by what kind of coach I was.
Executive? Transformational? Systemic? Developmental?
The truth is, I was no longer following a label. I was inhabiting a presence.
What emerged through the years was something I couldn’t have named at the beginning: a kind of internal alignment between my values, my stance, and my impact. It wasn’t about sounding wise or staying three steps ahead of the client. It was about showing up fully. With clarity. With humility. With readiness to stay when the conversation gets hard—and to say less when silence speaks louder.
I’ve come to call this signature presence. It’s not a brand. It’s not a technique. It’s who you are when you stop trying to be impressive—and start being of service.
The presence you bring into a room becomes a message in itself. Your way of listening. The tone of your questions. The spaciousness of your silence. The way you hold discomfort without collapsing or fixing. These are not things you do. They are things you are.
One mentee, reflecting on her coaching journey, told me:
“The biggest shift was not in how I coached. It was in how I trusted myself to coach without needing to prove anything.”
That’s what coaching maturity looks like. And I realized I was experiencing the same thing. I didn’t need to carry the room anymore. I just needed to hold it—with integrity, attention, and belief.
That belief often shows up in the stories my clients and mentees carry with them. Not because they remember every tool I used—but because they remember how they felt in the space we co-created.
Giada Ferrari, a coach I mentored on her credentialing journey, shared something that’s stayed with me:
“I really appreciated Jens’ honest feedback and his pragmatic approach… I learned the most from his evaluation of one of my coaching sessions.”
Her growth didn’t come from being told what to do. It came from a reflection that helped her see herself more clearly. That’s presence. That’s the mirror effect of coaching.
And it’s not just in formal sessions. The presence we bring into everyday interactions—into team meetings, performance conversations, hallway dialogues— that’s where our identity as a coach-leader becomes visible.
I remember a colleague once telling me:
“Even when you’re not coaching, you’re still coaching.”
At first, I laughed. Then I realized what she meant: the way I was showing up had shifted. It had become more intentional, more tuned-in. And that wasn’t something I turned on or off. It was something I had become.
That shift—when coaching stops being a practice and becomes a way of being—is, I believe, the deepest work any coach can do.
Because once you’re grounded in your presence:
• You no longer chase insight. You create the conditions for it.
• You no longer strive to impress. You stay curious longer.
• You no longer need to lead the conversation. You trust what wants to emerge.
It’s here that the earlier threads of my journey—training, mentoring, systems change, client transformation—all begin to weave together.
Presence, after all, is the container for all of it.
And it’s not something you graduate into. It’s something you practice every day.
The Invitation
If there’s one thing this journey has taught me — from Germany to China, from the first training room to the teams and leaders I now serve — it’s this:
Coaching isn’t something I do. It’s how I choose to lead.
It has become my way of being in the world.
This article has walked through systems and stories, frameworks and reflections. But beyond all that, it’s an invitation.
To pause.
To breathe.
To listen — not just to others, but to yourself.
If you’re a coach: trust your presence more than your performance. Your stillness will speak more than your structure ever can.
If you’re a leader: stop waiting for a perfect moment to lead with intention. Bring coaching into your conversations now — not as a technique, but as a way of relating. Start by listening with the kind of curiosity that makes others want to speak.
If you’re in HR or organizational development: don’t make coaching another layer of bureaucracy. Make it a way of working. Normalize reflection. Build tension safely. Invite learning in the spaces between agendas.
And if you’re simply a human, trying to grow — this is for you, too.
Ask fewer questions for answers, and more for awareness.
Slow down before speeding up.
Allow your future self to emerge — not from ambition, but from alignment.
Because that’s what coaching really is.
It’s not a service. It’s not a profession.
It’s a way of holding space — for others, and for yourself.
And when done with care, it changes everything.
So here, at the end of this article, I leave you not with a conclusion, but with a question:
What kind of presence are you becoming?
– Jens Maxeiner