The Radical Art of Working Without Love: What Sophie Hellinger Taught Me About True Presence

Discover why working 'without love' and removing safety from professional interactions can create deeper transformation than traditional compassionate approaches.

"Work without love. Do not pity others. Have no intention. Be without fear." Sophie reinforces the message by pointing her finger at the air. Sophie pauses to give us time to understand the importance of the message. She looks at each of us one by one. Five hundred coaches, trainers, and therapists have gathered for a seminar by Bert and Sophie Hellinger. We hold our breath.

"Imagine what would happen to you, both personally and professionally, if you were no longer blinded by love. If you don’t have to feel sorry, If you’re not held prisoner by goals and intentions. Are these things you can dare to let go of?"

Sophie’s strictness is nothing new. At the start of the seminar, she had already forbidden note-taking. "When you take notes, you’re present with your head. For this seminar, I demand that you be present with your heart.” Of course, despite the warning, someone secretly took notes. Sophie pauses the seminar and publicly reprimands the offender.

Still, there was something special about Sophie’s words. At first, they seemed to contradict everything I had learned. Working without love? Without intention? Yet, there’s something that makes me listen attentively. I’m not only listening; I’m also prepared to exchange my own fixed values for Sophie's ideas. For a moment, I wonder if I’ve been unconsciously brainwashed. But something in Sophie’s words motivates me to embark on the adventure.

An adventure without safety?

Most trainers pay a lot of attention to creating a safe environment. The general idea is that a safe environment is a prerequisite for learning and development. Sophie Hellinger doesn’t care, though. In fact, she takes away safety by publicly reprimanding the person who dared to take notes. Without pardon, without pity.

In any case, one thing is clear: the seminar leaders will not protect us. It’s precisely this lack of security that makes something remarkable possible. It forces everyone to stand on their own two feet. Upon closer inspection, it's not as crazy as it first appears to deliberately remove safety. Who wants to be coached by someone who’s not strong enough and needs the protection of others? Being forced to stand on our own two feet and not projecting our safety needs onto the teacher provides a deep learning experience far beyond tools and techniques. There's no room for reservations or conditions.

In my work, I intentionally create insecurity by openly dismissing any expectation that I am responsible for the learning experience. "I'm not responsible for your learning," I say. "Neither am I responsible for making sure that you enjoy today or that you can do something with what I have to offer." I often add that they shouldn't believe me. "Don't believe anything I say. See if it enriches what you already know and can do. I sincerely believe it.” I’m no longer afraid of their reactions. I know that this vulnerability puts the participants and me in the best possible position to take ownership. Each of us from our own role. Without fear.

On this adventure, we are fully present

Two elderly people shuffle into the room. It seems to take forever. The room waits tensely, hoping nothing goes wrong as they negotiate the steps. At the time of the seminar, Sophie is in her early seventies and Bert is in his eighties. Once on stage, however, they become two vital people with interesting stories to tell. They’re enjoyable to listen to. Sophie seems tireless. She has a quality of presence second to none. Even when she's sitting on a chair listening to her husband.

Having a quality of presence means being present without having to do anything or steer the meeting in a certain direction (working from the Empty Middle). The opposite is having a plan or objective in mind and determining the conditions and limits of what can happen. Your views on how the world works determine what should not be part of it. You unintentionally exclude anything you haven't thought of. You also exclude anything you do not understand. When your discussion partner introduces something outside your perception of reality, your initial reaction is to reject that information. Your discussion partner will then try to convince you of its value; it's a classic response. A lot of energy is lost. Although very good techniques and methods have been developed to limit the effect of this mechanism, it can be much easier by simply not knowing anything. Not knowing anything creates an enormous amount of space. Everything can participate again, making connections much easier. Not knowing anything creates an enormous amount of space. Everything can participate again, making connections much easier. Sophie did not need much, yet her quality of presence was high. That is precisely why she was invited to go on an adventure.

Nowadays, I mainly prepare for acquisition and intake interviews by organizing my presence. The question is, how do I ensure maximum presence in the conversation without being guided by predetermined goals or assignments? I don't want to feel restricted by questions that need to be answered; I want to feel free to investigate. The better my quality of presence, the more possibilities there are in the conversation. Without intention.

It's an adventure in search of where love belongs

It's wonderful to observe these two individuals collaborating. Their mutual eye contact is especially enchanting. Everything is there: Trust, surrender, the feeling of being carried, and, last but not least, love. This love is also evident in Bert and Sophie’s interactions with their inner circle. The people who assist them at the seminar, for example. Here, too, the love is mutual. But when they look at us and the teachers make a change, There is a subtle but unmistakable change in their eyes. The look in their eyes is different.

Authors like Neale Donald Walsch and Deepak Chopra have contrasted love and fear as two extremes. They are extremes between which you can choose, and they call you to choose love. Working without love or fear transcends this duality. You enter another dimension. The model of extremes immediately feels oppressive. It's not about choosing one or the other; it's about moving beyond that. Beyond everything, you reach a deep layer of being human. You are fully present, yet in a kind of trance. You instinctively know what your next step will be, as if you are being led. You do or say things you hadn't thought of beforehand, but you immediately know they're right. These interventions do not come from you, but rather flow through you. Afterwards, when you reflect on it, you sometimes come up with nice explanations for it, but they don't actually do the experience justice. From this place beyond everything, you deliver your best work. Even when it is invisible to others. It's a kind of flow that transcends you, who you are, and what you can do. You are not the best version of yourself; rather, you are part of something bigger that is available to you.

I often experience this feeling when I write. It starts with the desire to express something, though I don't yet know exactly what. When I am fully present and not fixated on an idea or a beautiful phrase in the text, it's as if I can connect to a larger source. The words come naturally. Without love.

Coming home after the adventure

The seminar was six years ago. Sophie’s words have become an inspiration in my work. Not as a mechanical technique or a trick, but as an underlying starting point. Not as a dogma, but as a challenge.

By working without love, compassion, intention, or fear, I can withdraw everything I know and find. If I do that and ensure a high quality of presence at the same time, an invitation to investigate automatically arises.

The beauty of it is that every time I think I have truly grasped it, I discover a new facet of this message, as if I were uncovering a golden vein. Without love. Without fear.