This morning when I considered writing my leadership blog for March I thought I was going to be writing about how, as leaders, we approach stress and living in a VUCA world. Then my day took a very unexpected turn and I find myself facing a very real, imminent, personal loss. Thankfully I have had the afternoon at home to begin processing this life changing event. But tomorrow morning my alarm will sound at 5am. I will need to feed out hay to the herd, get myself ready and be on the road for the 1.25 hour commute to the office. I will leave home at 5.30am. My day at the office will start at 6.45am and will consist of almost back to back meetings and workshops. At 5pm I will leave the office for the 1.25 hour commute home. My day will be exhausting, supporting my staff who are struggling with the impacts of significant organizational change and facilitating a leadership workshop. When my alarm sounds and today’s memories filter into my consciousness, I know I will want to pull that doona up, over my head and stay in bed.
As I write I can hear my horses calling to each other in the paddock and I wonder if they are reassuring me, or each other, as we face the truth that soon our herd will lose its leader? How will the rest of the horses cope without her no nonsense attitude, calm strength, and reassuring presence? My younger, pushier mare is not yet ready to step into the leadership role. I am not ready to say goodbye to my companion of 20 years who was born wild, orphaned in drought, rescued and who has been with me since she was just 3 months of age.
At best I know we have 6 months. The vet’s next visit will provide more clarity. I know I am here because of that special, magical, wonderful horse who changed my life. And the lives of many, many others. And tomorrow, when I am faced with people and problems that just don’t seem to matter in comparison I will struggle to be patient, to be kind, and to provide leadership.
And I know I don’t really have a choice, despite there being two pathways to follow. I know I will choose to show up, with compassion, vulnerability, and authenticity despite my pain. I will lead with the sentient grace of my equine master herder who like me, never wanted to be a leader and who much rather prefers solitude. Because that is what leaders do.