Since I resigned from my corporate consulting career, I have been told many times that I am brave, not only because I jumped off a cliff with just a bag of dreams and determination as my parachute when I resigned, but also because I choose to speak and do what is true for me. We know of course, that what people say about you, tells you more about them than it does about you, but still, it makes me think. If I’m honest, I often wish a different adjective were used of me; one that were a little softer, a little less warrior like. And yet, bravery is something I value hugely in others.
One dictionary definition of “brave” is “ready to face and endure danger or pain”. So how do I define it and what is it I want to see more of in our organisations and in the world?
In the end, I think it comes down to being yourself: having the courage to say what is true for you, even when all around you perceive others to be thinking and saying something different: having the courage to go against the current and make a different choice because that is what is right for you: finding it within yourself to lead for what you believe in, to stand there, like the shirtless dancing guy, looking stupid to many, perhaps, but standing in your sense of purpose: showing who you really are in all your glorious humanity, with your vulnerabilities, sensitivities and sensibilities, for others to see. For me that is a big part of what leadership is about. I saw it a lot in the wonderful group with whom I spent this last week and who leave me inspired and uplifted inspite of horrific world events. And I wonder if Oriah Mountain Dreamer’s invitation (one of my favourite pieces of writing) is really one to the bravery it takes to really live:
“It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow
I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, ‘Yes.’
It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.
It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.”