The Seven Marks of a Leader

Let’s talk about bad bosses – the screamers, the belittlers, the tyrants terrified of any challenge to their throne, burdened by emotional baggage they toil ceaselessly to foist on everyone else. Then think about the great teachers, coaches, mentors, and bosses you’ve had, the ones who got it right – kind and thoughtful leaders who drew from you qualities you didn’t even know you had. If you distilled the essence of their excellence into seven core components, what would they be?

A good leader is bold. Timidity erodes confidence. But a good leader does not mistake bluster and aggression for boldness. Being bold means embodying courage – courage to overcome one’s own limitations and see past the limitations of others. Being bold means speaking the truths that must be spoken plainly, directly, and kindly. Being bold means having the guts to admit when you’re wrong, and being strong enough to stretch into empathetic understanding of your opponents. When your team members and subordinates see these qualities in you they reach deep into their own strengths and walk with you toward a well-articulated aim.

A good leader has vision. And they hold that vision while others around them lose sight of it. They don’t get bogged down by the minutiae of process, or the technical hurdles that always arise. They lift their eyes to the ideal while stopping short of using the ideal to denigrate current conditions. Staying positive, emphasizing what’s right and framing what’s wrong as temporary and under revision, a good leader inspires their team through sheer confidence in the notion that the impossible is possible if we’re relentless enough. Being a leader means having the imagination and the muscle to perceive the good and steer toward it.

A good leader is humble. They’re not afraid of saying the three most powerful words in the English language – I don’t know. They understand that wisdom begins with the admission of ignorance and blossoms under careful cultivation, in collaboration with thoughtful others in continual dialogue.  Where there is no humility there cannot be wisdom. Nothing diminishes the confidence others have in you more rapidly and permanently than arrogance and self-aggrandizement. Trash talk and braggadocio only spotlights your neediness and low self-esteem. The people we really admire are the ones who stand in the background and wow us with their quiet accomplishments. A good leader deflects the light so that it shines on others.

A good leader values creation over process. You never know where the real solutions are going to come from, and rigid conformity to existing processes stifles genuine growth. It is the task of managers to faithfully execute processes, while it is the task of leaders to test the limitations of existing processes. These two disparate goals need not be characterized by hierarchy and conflict. In fact, it is the duty of leaders to ensure that this disparity is lovingly honored. Leaders are kept afloat by a sea of managers, technicians, and other process experts – they must respectfully honor those whose task it is to carry out the processes crafted by previous leaders. Yet leaders must be creative enough to take warranted risks when emerging flaws in existing processes prove destructive. Managers will hunker down and try to work with what they’ve got. Leaders are willing to toss it all aside and start over. Both are right.

A good leader works harder than everyone else. They see themselves as a worker among workers, not as a superior. A manager sits back and directs the actions of others, pushing from behind. A leader gets out front and pulls. By setting the example, a leader creates the space in which her team members rise up and contribute, each in a way best suited to their own unique strengths. Leaders leave lots of room for this. You draw the best out of people by appealing to their better natures and attracting them into viable, mutually rewarding opportunities, not through browbeating and derision. The title of leader is not conferred for past accomplishments – it is earned through effort and vision. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done. What matters is who you are. A leader embodies the principle that all work is service. Time and time again, a good leader proves his servitude and sacrifice, never asking for recognition or reward. The only reward a good leader needs is a thriving, enthusiastic, and competent team producing real results and creating work of lasting value.

A good leader brings stillness into every room they enter. Theirs is a calming presence. There is enough anxiety, resentment, conflict, and animosity inherent in any endeavor – no need to add to the problem. A leader’s role is to bring balance to imbalance, stability to instability, and medicine to dis-ease. A leader is a healer, a reconciler, and a builder of bridges. By modeling the consciousness of serenity and peace, a good leader deflates the self-righteousness of the messiahs, mollifies the aggression of the combatants, and soothes the wounds of the aggrieved. Peace begins in recognizing responsibility and acknowledging one another’s perceptions. But it only really grows in common ground. A leader looks for ways to establish and honor our shared mission, our complementary differences, and our common humanity. We are not our roles – we are human beings, struggling under the weight of a host of difficult demands at home and at work. A good leader draws our attention to what’s right, what’s working, and what’s better than it used to be. We already know what’s not working – it’s demoralizing to keep being reminded. Instead, good leaders help their teams slow down and relax, leaving space in which exploration, innovation, and accomplishment can arise. Peace equals progress.

            A good leader is emotionally intelligent. It really helps to be talented, smart, and insightful. But none of that matters if your virtues are eclipsed by emotional dysfunction. A good leader is compassionate, empathetic, perceptive, disciplined, playful, principled, and merciful. Trading enemies lists for the spiritual practice of continual forgiveness, good leaders grow beyond the consciousness of resentment, simplistic narratives of heroes and villains, and reductionist interpretations of complex, nuanced scenarios. They see past the self-serving black and white world of the emotionally wounded. A good leader is an optimist, honoring the best in themselves and others in even the darkest of times.      

In your family, in your classroom, in your committee, in your team, in your band, or in your boardroom, think about how these seven characteristics of good leadership apply. If you work alongside a leader, help them lead. If you are a leader, know this – you set the tone for your team. Who we are and how we walk into a room speaks volumes and sets patterns long before the PowerPoint presentation begins. Real leadership doesn’t come from the intellect with its data and talking points. Those are just the bricks. Real leadership is the mortar we use to bind it all together, made from the virtues of our character. The best leaders never set out to become leaders – they rose from the ranks on the loft of their uncompromising personal excellence. Despite the prevailing cynicism of our times, virtue is still recognized and rewarded, amplifying like echoes in a canyon. Just show up, do good work, hold a high vision for what’s possible, trust people, and get out of their way.    

Meaningful Work

In my role as a professor I have the opportunity to counsel many young people as they face the endless options before them. What should I major in? What kind of career should I work toward? Should I do what I love or make a living? I’m not there to tell them what to do or who to be. In my counseling work I don’t try to change people. I help them tell the truth to themselves about themselves. The healing comes from that.

When students agonize about their majors, their college choices, their careers – in other words, their futures – what they are really agonizing about is a far more fundamental question, the most important question of all: who am I or even more to the point what am I? No other question so effectively clears out the accumulated debris of years of fear and misunderstanding leaving us clarified and ready to act in accord with our essential nature.

Although he is terribly out of fashion and much maligned, the philosopher Karl Marx made a powerful point when he suggested that instead of homo sapien, our species would be more aptly named homo faber. Homo sapien means “man the thinker”. Homo faber means “man the maker”. For Marx, the single most defining characteristic of our species is not our ability to think but our ability to shape the world around us. Yes, birds make nests and bees make hives, but human beings reach into the ground extracting iron, oil and other elemental substances and then with our opposable thumbs and creative visions we turn the earth’s elements into space shuttles, heart valves and iPads. Like gods we pick up clay and breathe our essence into it. In the alchemy of transformation, work is our talisman.

It is in our nature to work, to create, to combine, to innovate, to synthesize and to build. The things we make, whether they are songs or skyscrapers, are externalizations of our essence. And as we shape the world after our own visions, the world in turn shapes us. It is hard to know where our consciousness ends and the world begins. When we invent the world we are inventing ourselves. And work is the sacramental act that binds it all together.

A former student recently wrote to me through Facebook and relayed a struggle he was having. His heart and his gut were telling him to major in religious studies but he knew that with only a BA he wouldn’t be able to teach or in any other way earn a living with that degree. Grad school in the foreseeable future was out of the question and without a Masters degree his fear was that he would have to settle for some menial job outside his genuine interests – something just to pay the bills. As he framed it, the dilemma was between making money and meaningful work. He asked me what to do.

When a philosophical dilemma arises the problem is often rooted in the way we frame the issue. In other words, to make any headway on this dilemma we must first step back and examine the words we are using. What are our underlying, unexamined assumptions? What does “meaningful work” really mean?

What we have are two conflicting truths. On one hand is the notion that each of us must realize our passion by finding work that is deeply and personally meaningful for us. By finding a career that aligns with our deepest purpose we realize joy. From this perspective, the greatest blunder is selling-out for the almighty dollar and letting our sacred purpose wither.

On the other hand is the equally compelling notion that any work, so long as it does not profit from the suffering of others, can be profoundly fulfilling if the attitude of the worker is deeply committed to the consciousness of service. In this truth the so-called dilemma between making money and meaningful work dissolves. Any work can be meaningful work because meaning is found in the consciousness of the worker, not in external conditions or circumstances. It is this second possibility that often gets short shrift from both career counselors and spiritual advisors. The idea that any work can be meaningful is just not as sexy as following your bliss.

But not everyone gets to be an astronaut or a rock star. Very few earn a living at poetry or painting. Mystics and monks may get manna from heaven, but money? Not so much. And last time I checked, mothers don’t earn a dime. Clearly there must be a way to shift our consciousness into realizing that the sacred nature of work is only incidentally related to income stream. If your dream job has not yet materialized and you find yourself having to take whatever kind of employment comes your way to put food on the table and a roof over your head, consider this. There is great honor and dignity in being a part of something bigger than you, even if that something is an assembly line, a muffler shop, an office suite or a corner café. Some of the most deeply fulfilled people I’ve ever met are humble people with simple jobs – taxi drivers, janitors, warehouse workers, shipping clerks, gardeners.

When you surrender yourself to the choreography of your work, you slip into the now moment where you encounter other human beings, beings of infinite value, and you have the momentous opportunity to bring your training, skill and compassion to bear on their suffering and unmet needs. Making sandwiches, filing paperwork and cleaning rooms may seem like humble work, but it is no less essential than rocket science – without either one the world would be immeasurably poorer. No matter the nature of your work, realize that you are playing an essential role in bringing order out of chaos. As you trim hedges and stock groceries and wipe tables and deliver packages you are participating in the healing of the world. You are mending hearts. You are creating beauty. You are bringing people out of darkness. You are feeding them body, mind and soul. With every kindness you are restoring the faith of the people you serve. Your work is the connective tissue of the body of humanity. To recast an old theater adage, there are no small jobs, only small workers.

Whether we are called teachers or not, all of us teach. The way we treat other people teaches them who they are and who we are. Every encounter, no matter how mundane, is a holy meeting.

So while it is true that we must follow our bliss it is also true that we must guard against the tendency of the ego to hijack our hearts and twist our minds into thinking that we are too good for menial labor. When the Zen student complained to the master that after three weeks at the monastery he had still not learned a single thing about Zen the master asked, “Have you eaten?”

“Yes,” said the student.

“Then wash your bowl.”

All work is service. And service is the work of heaven. Who would think themselves too good to perform the work of heaven?

It is right in the midst of these everyday chores that we realize wisdom. Sweep the path. Wash the sheets. Lift up those around you who have fallen. Let go your empty dreams of fame and glory. They were only the projections of your fears and self-aggrandizement. Instead, embrace your role as a part of the whole, not beneath anyone else or better than anyone else. This is our meaningful work.