What is a Good Life? #116
Resting In The Arms Of Our Ancestors with Sue McDonnell
On the 116th episode of the What is a Good Life? podcast, I’m delighted to welcome Sue McDonnell—an executive coach, psychotherapist, and lifelong student of leadership, transformation, and human systems. With decades of experience guiding senior leaders and teams, Sue helps people break free from old patterns and embrace new possibilities.
Her approach is deeply systemic, recognising leadership as an interconnected dance rather than an isolated act. She has worked with executive teams at renowned companies, across several industries, facilitating interventions that honour both the seen and unseen forces shaping leadership.
Drawing on a wealth of experience—over 8,000 coaching hours—and influences from a range of great teachers, Sue blends relational intelligence, emotional agility, and adaptive leadership. For her, true leadership isn’t about control—it’s about presence.
Rooted in curiosity about the human experience, the wisdom of her Irish heritage, and a deep commitment to growth, Sue brings a unique perspective to leadership and change.
In this wonderfully soulful conversation, we explore what it means to navigate uncertainty, stay open-hearted in difficult times, and a connection with something bigger than ourselves. We also explore eternal ties with ancestors, touching on the unseen threads that weave through our lives.
This episode is an invitation to embrace the unknown with curiosity, wisdom, grace, and a deeper sense of connection.
The weekly clip from the podcast (2 mins), my weekly reflection (4 mins), the full podcast (59 mins), and the weekly questions all follow below.
1. Weekly Clip from the Podcast
2. My weekly reflection
At one point in this interview, I alluded to an experience that is not all that uncommon for me. I can be walking down the street, feeling open-hearted and loving towards one stranger, and then, in the next moment, feel a sharp sense of judgement or separation towards another, based on something rather banal they have done, like cycling on the footpath.
When she asked whether I noticed anything in my experience that may have contributed to this, I said that, at this point, I am not too concerned with analysing or interpreting it. I am more interested in simply bearing witness to it, to feeling my experience.
I mentioned that over the last few years, the more I feel, the less I judge—the judgement being of both myself and others.
Although judgements still occur, they are far less frequent. I also notice that the number of moments of connection I experience is growing significantly—not because I am trying to be good or intentionally seeking connection, but because it is a natural intelligence emerging from the felt experience of both connection and separation. Something in me, when given the opportunity to feel both, seems to orient itself toward connection.
I don’t know about you, but at some point, I hit a wall with trying to analyse my behaviour and pore over the reasons, meanings, and minutiae of everything I was doing. It drained the joy from my self-inquiry.
I almost had a mental ledger of good and bad behaviour, good and bad thoughts and actions. It felt the very opposite of natural; like an overbearing parent or headmaster, constantly monitoring and criticising myself rather than simply being.
This approach left me little space to feel my feelings and witness the unfolding of life. Whatever was occurring was being judged, filtered through a lens of good and bad—a mentally constructed morality.
What became staggeringly clear, the more I simply observed, was that there is a natural mechanism within us we can trust, one that will steer us if we are simply willing to observe.
When you truly begin to pay attention to your inner and outer world, you cannot help but see the consequences of your actions. It’s not driven by a sense of good or bad, but by noticing how the experiences actually feel.
It’s that feeling, rather than a constructed morality, that causes me to grow or move in other ways.
I’ve mentioned before about exploring my anger. For many years at the start of this self-inquiry journey, I would simply get angry with my anger and judge it harshly.
The more I simply witnessed it—even asking others how they felt around it—the more it softened. Not because I identified behaviours or triggers, but because I sat in the feeling of it and the impact it created for others.
When you sit with and feel the consequences of your actions, no mental justification can override the deep recognition of having hurt someone. At that point, atoning becomes essential.
The more we sit in silence or have the space to feel life’s experience, the disturbances our actions cause need to be addressed. In my experience, there is no waiting to be called out on my behaviour—only more suffering ensues if I obstruct what I sense to be a natural response to realising this.
I continually sense that the more we feel, the more data we collect, the more wisdom our bodies absorb—untouched by the mind—and the more I can trust whatever changes us to alter us in whichever way it will.
For a number of years, trying to will myself towards change only led to more frustration. Life felt increasingly cerebral—more mechanical, all interpreted by a mind masquerading as rational and objective.
This is not to diminish the importance or helpfulness of that analysis at first—only to say that, in my experience, it could only take me so far before I became stuck in it. More conversations noting the same things, more books pointing to the same things, while more ease in my being was not the outcome.
After an interview a couple of weeks ago with Andrew Alexander, in which we discussed freedom and responsibility, he mentioned the work of the philosopher Jiddu Krishnamurti. After the interview, I looked up Krishnamurti’s perspectives on freedom and responsibility and was really heartened by what I read.
According to Krishnamurti, responsibility is not something forced upon us by society. Instead, when one truly understands oneself, responsibility emerges naturally because one sees the consequences of one's actions.
"Freedom is not a reaction; freedom is not choice. Freedom is pure observation without direction, without fear of punishment and reward."
"If you begin to understand what you are without trying to change it, then what you are undergoes a transformation."
In my life, trusting whatever that transformation will yield—without direction—has cultivated a sense of being and connection I never imagined I would experience.
To explore one-on-one coaching with me
3. Full Episode - Resting In The Arms Of Our Ancestors with Sue McDonnell - What is a Good Life? #116
4. This week’s Questions
In difficult times, how do you keep your heart open to the world?
Is there someone who has passed from this life that you remain in conversation with?
About Me
I am a coach, podcast host, and writer, based in Berlin, via Dublin, Ireland. I started this project in 2021, for which I’ve now interviewed over 250 people. I’m not looking to prescribe universal answers, more that the guests’ lines of inquiry, musings, experiences, and curiosities spark your own inquiry into what the question means to you. I am also trying to share more genuine expressions of the human experience and more meaningful conversations.
If you’re interested in exploring your own self-inquiry through one-on-one coaching, joining my 5-week Silent Conversations group courses, or fostering greater trust, communication, and connection within your leadership teams, or simply reaching out, feel free to contact me via email or LinkedIn.