A while back, I was doing some work with an executive team and we were having a conversation about not waiting for permission to do the work that they, as leaders, had already been asked and empowered to do.

There was one participant who struggled with taking ownership. He was blocking possibilities, openly objecting and getting in his own way.

At first, I patiently responded to his repeated rebuttals but there was a point when I completely shocked myself and others by explosively calling him out. To be clear, not allowing others to hide is my job, but there is a right and a wrong way to do this.

Hint: The right way is never explosive.

NEVER in the history of my professional career, particularly as a trainer and facilitator had such a thing occurred.

Within seconds, I was back in my body and I fully owned it and apologized — in front of everyone — for the way that I had responded. I embarrassed him and he shut down.

The most basic cardinal rule, as the facilitator, is to ensure that participants feel safe and protected. And here, not only had I allowed this essential rule to be violated, I was the violator! And I felt AWFUL.

Later that night, while in my hotel room, I was processing the day’s events and running that moment over and over in my mind. I think that more than anything, I was thrown by the fact that my response was so out of character. I just couldn’t understand it. And then it hit me.

I was a pawn. Read: A willing vessel who had asked to be used.

The foundation of the work that we were doing was centered on wholehearted leadership. It’s tenets include things like self-awareness, authenticity, responsibility, etc. It’s about showing up fully, trusting ourselves and others and yep, fully owning our errors and mistakes.

When we raise our hands and asked to be used, we never know what that something greater might have in mind.

That moment felt like it was something beyond me because it was. It was a moment, masterfully crafted by the Universe as an opportunity for me to model what I had been teaching.

The next day, as I’m unloading my car, guess who shows up right beside me? It was the person who I had offended.

I checked in to see how he was feeling, apologized yet again and he helped me take my things into the building. We were solidly good.

We opened the training that day with my sharing how I had processed the situation — openly explaining how I had failed as the facilitator in that moment (and why) and also sharing what I did to make it right.

I used myself as an example of the fact that sometimes we just mess up. Sometimes painfully so. And we have to be willing to own our stuff, pick up the pieces and move forward.

And with that, I made the conscious decision to release the situation and any negative energy that surrounded it and we ended with a fabulous day of training.

When I got the evaluations from the group, I was floored to see just how impactful that situation and moment had been. The gist? There was tremendous gratitude and praise offered by the participants for not just teaching them about wholehearted leadership but for modeling what it looked like in plain clothes. The feedback was outstanding.

That experience solidified my belief that when we offer our humanity, typically, people offer their own in return.

Wholehearted leadership is a gift. It not just another leadership strategy. It’s a way of being that reminds us to stand tall, even and especially when we screw up.

Owning Change Quote of the Week: “Do not fear mistakes. There are none.” — Miles Davis

Monica Moody

Monica Moody