Recently I came across a poem I wrote last year.
I’ve never thought of myself as a poet, but at the time I was doing a course where each piece of homework invited us to communicate something creatively, using a different form each time. One of those assignments was poetry.
It’s fair to say I had quite a bit of thinking about that one.
And yet, when it finally arrived, it came much more quickly than I expected it to.
It began with an image that entertained me. A memory of an animated television show I loved as a child called Mr Benn.
In each episode Mr Benn would wander into a fancy dress shop. After trying on a costume he’d be magically transported into an adventure that matched it.
An astronaut might send him to space.
A knight might place him in a medieval quest.
I wrote about that image in a LinkedIn post at the time.
The image stayed with me because it felt like a perfect metaphor for how thoughts wear costumes in our everyday experience.
And when I later sat down at my desk intending to work on something completely different, this poem appeared instead.
I called it The Costume Maker.
The Costume Maker
by Jen Waller
Thought works quietly in the back room:
measuring, pinning, cutting from old patterns.
Laying out a new design at any moment:
overwhelm with tight sleeves,
self-doubt stitched just so,
grief folded into the lining
of something that almost fits.
And me?
I try them on, these daily disguises:
walk the world in responsibility,
eat lunch dressed as not enough,
answer emails wearing the tailored rush of urgency.
Even joy comes bespoke:
self-assurance with crisp edges,
golden thread stitching the illusion of success,
belonging that shimmers just enough to distract me from the quiet underneath.
And even ease, when clung to,
can tighten around the edges:
a smile worn too long,
a lightness held like proof that I’ve arrived.
But love,
the kind that doesn’t need a name,
is sheer enough to catch glimpses
of what was never hidden.
The light gets through.
Presence wears it lightly.
There are times when I reach in the dark,
not quite awake,
and pull on what’s nearest,
familiar fabrics of worry or worthiness,
slipping into them
before I even know I’m dressed.
But sometimes,
light hits the seam just right,
or awareness startles me awake, like a window flung open,
and I catch a glimpse in the mirror of the moment:
me, mid-conversation,
dressed as an astronaut,
or a jester,
or some grand, anxious heroine on a mission to prove something.
And it’s funny,
or tender,
or suddenly obvious how unnecessary it all is.
And always, so utterly innocent –
this dressing up,
this costume trying,
this reaching,
this forgetting.
And I see again:
this isn’t me.
Just something I put on without noticing.
And when I’m very still,
I can feel the breath beneath the fabric,
the uncostumed presence
that doesn’t need dressing at all.
Not separate from Thought –
but made of the same stillness,
before the costumes,
before the cut and stitch of passing thoughts.
A presence that waits,
quiet and whole,
and when I seem to reach for something to wear,
it’s that same presence
momentarily believing
it needs to become
what it already is.
A coaching reflection
One of the things I’ve noticed in coaching conversations is how convincing our mental “costumes” can be.
A thought appears and before we know it, it seems to become something solid. A feeling. A pressure. A story about what’s happening and what it must mean.
For a while it can look completely real.
But sometimes a small moment of awareness changes the whole experience.
A client might suddenly notice what they’ve been wearing without realising it.
Urgency.
Self doubt.
Responsibility for everything.
And the moment they see it as something they’ve simply put on without noticing, the grip often loosens.
Nothing has been fixed.
But something has been seen.
And from that space, people often reconnect with their own common sense and creativity in a way that thinking alone rarely produces.
Questions for coaches
If you’re a coach, you might enjoy reflecting on a few of these:
- When have you seen a client suddenly recognise the “costume” they were wearing?
- What helps someone notice their thinking without feeling judged by it?
- How do moments of awareness change the tone of a conversation?
- When have you seen a metaphor or image help someone see something more clearly than explanation alone?
No need to answer them all. Sometimes one question is enough.
A quiet thought
Perhaps thoughts are a little like costumes.
Convincing for a while.
Until awareness notices the seam.
And behind the fabric, something quieter has been there all along.
About Jen Waller
Jen Waller is a transformative coach who works with thoughtful professionals and coaches who are curious about the deeper nature of thought, insight, and human experience.
Her work creates space for people to explore what’s really going on beneath the noise of their thinking, often leading to moments of clarity, creativity, and quiet wisdom that can’t be forced through analysis alone.