I recently heard a wonderful poem by Jack Riemer. I was struck at how well it captures the essence of leadership and personal accountability.
We cannot merely pray to end war;
For the world was made in such a way
That we must find our own path of peace
Within ourselves and with our neighbor.We cannot merely pray to root out prejudice;
for we already have eyes
With which to see the good in all people
If we would only use them rightly.We cannot merely pray to end starvation;
For we already have the resources
With which to feed the entire world
If we would only use them wisely.We cannot merely pray to end disease;
For we already have great minds
With which to search out cures and
healings
If we would only use them constructively.Therefore we pray instead
For strength, determination, and will power,
To do instead of merely to pray
To become instead of merely to wish;
That our world may
be safe,
And that our lives may be blessed.”
-Jack Riemer (adapted)
I often hear leaders speak in passive voice. “If only our people could be more engaged”, “If we could just have a greater sense of urgency”, “I hope we’ll get through this change”. It’s as if those leaders forget that they are the ones leading.
Leaders shouldn’t hope or wish; they should do. Leadership is an active endeavor. A leader’s job is to draw out the best from his or her workforce, to keep them engaged and empowered, and to create the kind of culture needed to make the organization succeed.
How do you think about (or communicate) the needs of your organization? Are you passive – relying on some invisible force or person to make things happen? Or, do you speak about your responsibility, actions, and influence. If you aren’t sure, ask someone. If you lead in the passive voice don’t be surprised if you don’t see much change.
Chief Renaissance Man:
Thanks for the poetry! It’s wonderful. Here’s one of my favorites by Mary Oliver. I thought of it because it seems to build on Riemer’s, albeit with a slightly more figurative flair . . .
The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice–
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do–
determined to save
the only life you could save.
© Mary Oliver.