Leaning Into The Silence

As I sat down to write this week's post, I found I was drawing a bit of a blank. I hate when my mind goes blank. So, I chose to reflect on the week that's just transpired, what I've experienced, in the hopes that I'd recall an incident, or a lesson or that something might emerge. And it did. It's amazing what happens when I let myself get a wee bit introspective and curious.

This week has been filled with a lot of coaching, and a lot of leading. Coaching both individuals and teams. Leading teams and group calls and classes. All of this, as you can imagine, has required a lot of talking.

Sometimes my talking is about asking questions.

Sometimes my talking is about sharing perspectives or insights.

Sometimes my talking is about mirroring something to those around me.

Sometimes my talking is about pointing to a learning that's wanting to emerge.

In all cases, I'm using my voice. 

Generally speaking, I see my voice as a tool, one specifically designed to help me connect with others meaningfully, to be in conversation and curiousity, and to support those with whom I am interacting. My voice is also a tool I can use in service of myself -- using it to ask for what I want or need, or to share what is happening for me. I think it's safe to say that I have learned to use my voice well. And this week, I was challenged to use it more than well -- to use it meaningfully.

Let me explain. 

As a leader and a coach, folks often look to me to speak. They expect me to ask questions that they might be avoiding, to share what I might be seeing. They expect me to give voice to what I know, what I believe, what I think is important. This expectation is one that I have inadvertently molded into a self-imposed responsibility. Like I am somehow RESPONSIBLE to speak, to share, to teach, to question -- to use my voice all the time. 

While I think that there is a kernel of truth in the need to use my voice, I'm learning that there is also value in my not speaking. That sometimes it's actually best for me to NOT share what I know, but to allow those around me to dare to know on their own. To sit in the discomfort of me not sharing (and trust me, it can be uncomfortable) in service of those around me discovering whatever needs to be discovered, in their own way. While this is something that I do quite naturally when I'm coaching, it's more challenging when I'm leading and teaching. 

So, where I'm landing -- and where I'm inviting those around me to play -- is in the space of self-claimed silence. That space where I know I have something to share, some wisdom to impart, but I stay silent anyway. This space is valuable because it allows for those around me to have their own version of epiphany moments, ones that aren't necessarily created by me. In other words, folks can learn by me teaching vocally; and they can also learn by me giving space -- read this as silence -- for their learning to emerge.

Bottom-line: sometimes, I've just got to be quiet. I know I have lots to say. I have been told that my words create learning. This is lovely to know, and, I don't need to hold this awareness as a mandate to keep talking. I actually get to sit in my discomfort of not speaking, and trust that whatever learning needs to happen will happen without my voice in the space. They say that silence is golden. My invitation to you as leaders is that you join me in leaning into the silence.