Following my heart
When I left my corporate career, everyone said I was courageous, and some wished they could leave too. Why didn’t they? Fear of uncertainty and fear of failure. The fear of uncertainty causes us to maintain the status quo, even if it isn’t working. Leaving behind a highly paid career with all the financial benefits it brings to set up a small business in the middle of a recession is not for the faint-hearted! In hindsight, what others saw as courage was merely naivety, something I find serves me well in moments of uncertainty. If we overthink things, we don’t move forward.
Although I had substantial experience working in a large global corporation of more than 400,000 employees worldwide, and I was comfortable managing a European budget of $1 billion, nothing could have prepared me for running a small business on my own. When I added horses into the mix, the uncertainty grew exponentially. Everything was unknown. I was on my own with no support structure, and the learning curve was fast. Failure was a definite possibility. Over the coming months and years, I would fail repeatedly, pick myself up and try again. Had I known that, I might have stayed in my corporate career. We have a psychological need for safety and tend to seek it naturally. Uncertainty is a threat to our safety, yet it is unavoidable if we want to create breakthroughs.
One of the first leadership programmes I ran was a six-month programme for a group of IT directors. It was called “Challenge the status quo” and was designed to help them increase self-awareness and be more bold and courageous in their leadership. In between workshops, I gave them practical challenges to develop their leadership further, one of which was to overcome their fear of something. I’m a great believer in walking my talk and won’t ask anyone to do anything I wouldn’t be willing to do myself. And so I found myself working with someone to help me overcome my fear of horses. Despite my fear, I kept being drawn to horses without knowing why. I had no intention of riding again, so my decision to overcome my fear of them was to put the fear to rest and move on.
Little did I know what was in store. I overcame my fear of horses in the first five minutes of being in their presence and learned so much about my own leadership in the first two hours. I talk about this experience in more detail in Leadership Beyond Measure. Suffice to say here that I discovered Equine Guided Leadership, which is a way of working with horses to develop leadership and communication skills.
Following that first session, instead of putting my fascination with horses to rest, it reignited it, and I found myself drawn to learning more about working with them. Still with no intention of doing the work, I embarked on an extensive training programme to train as a HorseDream Partner, an international methodology designed to work specifically with corporate leaders and teams.
Uncertainty was at play in abundance.
Throughout the training, I found myself working with people who had their own horses and were very confident and competent around them. I was unsure why I was doing the training, but I followed my instincts and trusted that I was meant to be there. I was willing to explore and see what happened. The only thing that was certain was that it felt right. In moments of uncertainty, we tend to rely on logic and reasoning, yet our instincts are rarely wrong. Effective leaders trust their intuition in uncertainty and include it in the decision-making process.
I had no desire to ride horses, yet there was also no doubt that I was in the right place. In only eight months, I overcame my fear, attended intensive training, qualified as a HorseDream Partner, delivered my first corporate workshop and took ownership of my first horse.
Life was moving fast, and I was galloping along the path of uncertainty with no idea where I was heading.
Facing uncertainty head on
After seeing Kalle charging up and down the arena, I knew deep down that she was the right horse for me. My heart was sure, my gut instinct was clear, but my head was questioning the sanity of taking on such a majestic animal when my capabilities of handling horses were virtually non-existent. I didn’t even know how to put on a head collar.
I went home to think about it. I wanted to be sure I was doing the right thing. In moments of uncertainty, we look for certainty, glimpses that we are on the right track. Things were moving fast, and I felt the need to slow down the decision and give myself time to pause for breath. Kalle is 16.2 hands high (which is 1.68m to the top of the shoulder), bigger than I had intended as a first horse. She is a German breed called Trakehner, known for being spirited and highly sensitive. Riders often say this breed is tricky to handle. Knowing nothing about horses, I was oblivious to this. I discovered that they are highly sensitive and intuitive, making them perfect for my work.
I had limited experience around horses, and this was a huge decision. At the time, many people said I was bold. Others told me I was crazy. I didn’t see it in either of those ways. When people questioned my capability, I replied that nobody knows how to look after a child until they have one – you just have to learn. And fast! I followed my heart and knew that this was the work I wanted to do. Exactly eight months after I overcame my fear of horses, Kalle came into my life. Clients had been asking to work with horses, so I decided I’d better get a horse!
If I had any doubts about taking on a horse as powerful as Kalle, I was certain my friends would not let me play small. Later that day, I spoke to a dear friend, Nicole, and explained that Kalle was big, powerful, spirited, kind and gentle and that I was a little concerned that she might be too much for clients. Nicole asked whether I could handle her. I replied that I thought so. To which Nicole responded, “If you think you can handle her and your clients can’t, then you are holding your clients too small.” With that I made the decision. I took ownership of Kalle one month later.
My path of uncertainty had most definitely begun.
“When you reach your limit, stop, reflect and find another way. The challenge is to know when your limit has been reached.”
“Sit down and be quiet.”
The words of my childhood years at school. I was told what to do, how to do it, and I was expected to follow the instructions. I was rewarded when I did and reprimanded when I fell short. Things were fairly black and white. Pretty certain. The world looks very different today.
Now you are competing against technology for your job. You’re not a robot, but you often feel like one.
You are expected to be creative and innovative, but must not fail or make mistakes. You are encouraged to be empowered and take responsibility, but there are five levels of signoff to buy printer paper. You are told what to do and how to do it, but criticised for not being agile and decisive. You have to meet tight deadlines and stretch targets, but there are insufficient people to do the work.
As a result, you’ve been given enough workload for three people but are not considered resilient enough when you get stressed.
The hierarchy is flattening, so you now have more than one boss, and they have different ideas about your priorities and objectives.
I hope you are superhuman.
Rapid pace of change
Have you ever wished there were more hours in the day? Do you find yourself permanently rushing from one place to another? Do you get to the end of the day only to discover you haven’t achieved the things you planned to do?
We live in extraordinary times. Life and work are changing at an alarming pace in ways we cannot predict, and at times it leaves people feeling exposed, uneasy and uncomfortable. People are increasingly connected to technology and disconnected at an emotional and physical level. It’s not unusual to see a family of four at a restaurant all on their mobile phones, physically present but with their attention elsewhere.
Technology processes high volumes of data, and the human brain is unable