Audio and Image Transcript
I have ‘questioned’ leadership ever since I first wrestled with the idea freshman year of high school. My father, who worked as an executive on Wall Street at the time, brought me with him to leadership summits that he participated in. He also took me ice fishing and wandering into the woods in northern Sweden. In and out of leadership summits and camping trips, we engaged in edifying conversations and reflections together.
In the in-between moments, I sometimes sat alone in an abandoned, burned-down greenhouse situated in a nature preserve by my parents’ house. I would use bits of burnt charcoal I found on the ground to write in my journal.
I grew deeply curious. What is leadership really, and who gets to decide? What if leadership could even be something more expansive, a way to affirm life?
These questions formed the foundation of the major I designed and studied at university. During those years, I often reflected outdoors to see how I could make sense of leadership concepts in the context of my own lived experiences. I kept a journal of these reflections. It was one of the most precious objects I owned, and I never shared it with anyone.
Then one day after visiting my parents, I fell asleep on the Long Island Rail Road. I missed my stop. As I tried to orient myself I realized that my purse – and my journal – had been stolen. I was devastated.
In a frantic state, I thought I should try to remember everything I had written and rewrite it so I wouldn’t lose my ideas and learnings. But, for some reason, I couldn’t get myself to do it.
As I look back, almost every entry in that journal integrated metaphors I found while spending time in nature. They were special. Writing them down in a list for the sake of ‘keeping’ them just didn’t feel right.
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During a recent trip to New York, more than 15 years later, I found myself suddenly drawn to a smart Moleskine: a way to keep my hand-written reflections beyond the book itself.
With this new possibility, I wonder: What if the act of sharing presents learnings that I have yet to integrate?
With curiosity I continue on this shared invitation to explore how my liberation, my purpose, is bound up in yours. My sincere hope is that these metaphors and reflections might spark continued, deepened questioning and keep us on a path of emergence as we learn how to lead.