“Let go or be dragged.” ~ Zen proverb
Four weeks ago the LWP partners began our customary quarterly partners retreat at a Hyatt in Atlanta at 9 a.m. sharp. We began the day in customary fashion, after Dave ensured that we had a mealtime plan, by analyzing our quarterly goals. We carefully reviewed who is doing what to reach goal, our money plan from the previous quarter and then where we have nobody leading.
Like all businesses, marketing was where the spotlight shined loud and clear. What I appreciate about our collective skill sets is how quickly we are able to shift from driver mode right into solution mode. We revisited hiring outside consultants, as we have done in the past. It would take at least six months to get them up and running; plus, how do we find someone who understands the dynamic of an estate and elder law firm vs. a hunt and kill mindset at all cost?
At the end of the day we agreed that I would go full-time into marketing. I am naturally the best person to lead this, and the organization needs me to lead it, own it and nurture it.
I’m not going to lie – I resisted. Hard. My control freak showed up immediately: “I know (control freaks always know best) that X will happen,” “Who’s going to lead Y,” “Who’s going to coach Z,” “We have been making such great progress on Z, I can’t just abandon ’em now.”
I finally GOT IT. I have been working with team members for 17 years, hearing the exact same words when their attorneys ask them to step up and replace themselves. I never fully understood what the root of the resistance was. Now I get it.
The hesitation does not stem solely from fear and the unknown aspects of change. It’s not just fear of what’s next and whether the team member can actually pull it off. Sure, the uncertainty is a big piece, and fear of failure has a giant room at the inn as well. But in all honesty, the biggest piece comes down to leaving with a feeling of abandonment – abandoning the team, the clients and what you have taken personal pride in developing and perfecting. It’s the essence of, “I said I would do this and I gave it my all and now I’m leaving the baby. Do they have all they need to make certain this doesn’t nosedive?”
So we resist, we justify that “they need me” and we attempt to control the situation, instead of investing in how we are going to become the next, better version of ourselves and create a better version of the business. Dang it, there it is again, that 2mm shift.
But if we can detach from the logistics of how what we are currently doing will get done, and anchor to how we are going to step into our new role/world/life, the art of surrendering begins.
As soon as I got on the plane, I got to work. I looked at what I am doing non-marketing-related and to whom I can responsibly shift it over. I quickly came up with a suggested transition plan. I pulled out our marketing plan, the money plan, and realized not only that I can do this, but that I am very much the best person for the job. I can do this, and I will do this. I sat for the next two hours and 20 minutes while trapped on the plane and mentally surrendered to letting go of what was, to allow the new reality to permeate, and to embrace the sense of excitement, along with a healthy level of challenge.
But I couldn’t do it without detaching first and allowing for the possibility of what’s next to unfold. Yes, I know this is a skill and it must be practiced, daily. And it is never, ever mastered. But like my good friend Candee always says, “You must be willing to try it on.”
That honestly is the process for giving up control and the art of surrendering. It’s simply one small step (emotions, logistics and movement) at a time. And then you can course a realistic present and a future path and plan. Eventually you find your new normal. And that’s really the story of growth.
Molly L. Hall, Co-Founder, Lawyers with Purpose, LLC, and author of Don’t Be a Yes Chick: How to Stop Babysitting Your Boss, Transform Your Job and Work with a Dream Team Without Losing Your Sanity or Your Spirit in the Process.
Molly: A long-ago boss of mine used an analogy that has stuck with me ever since. He said, “You can’t get to second base if you’re unwilling to take your foot off of first.”
I think that captures the idea that it’s a risk to step away from the safety of where we are, but we’ll never get to the next level if we don’t. It symbolizes letting go of one thing and setting your eyes and mind on the next goal. It embodies forgetting the danger and going full bore toward what lies ahead.
Mike Goss