On the Trail
On one hike this year, I reached my first real rock scramble. It wasn’t just uneven steps or a few boulders to step around. It was a stretch where the trail stopped being a path and became something I’d have to climb.
I stood at the bottom and stared at it for a while.
I traced possible routes with my eyes. Where would my hands go? Where would my feet land? What if a hold didn’t feel as solid as it looked? Eventually, I figured out how I wanted to move, and I started climbing. I had to grip tightly. I had to push past the fear and commit to the next move.
But partway up, I noticed something. My shoulders were tight. I was holding my breath. My whole body was bracing, as if tension alone would keep me safe. It wasn’t helping.
So, I paused. I took a few deep breaths. My hands stayed firm on the rock, but I let the rest of my body relax. Once I did, the climb got easier. I moved more smoothly, thought more clearly, and trusted myself to find the next step.
That’s what has stayed with me. Getting up that scramble required both: a firm grip on what mattered, and the willingness to release everything that didn’t.
Last month, I wrote about leading in ways that don’t require being seen. Since that climb, I’ve been thinking about another kind of letting go. Sometimes it isn’t recognition we’re holding onto. It’s control. And when we hold on too tightly, we leave little room for anyone else to lead.
What I Realized
Leadership comes with responsibility. People depend on us for direction, decisions, support, and guidance. When we care deeply about the work, it’s natural to want to make sure things go right.
But somewhere along the way, that sense of responsibility can turn into a need to control.
We want to be involved in every decision. We want things done a certain way. We want to anticipate every challenge before it happens. And without realizing it, we can hold on so tightly that others stop stepping forward.
I don’t think of myself as a controlling leader. But I’ve realized that most leaders who hold on too tightly don’t see themselves that way either.
That’s exactly the point. We may believe we’re providing support and direction while the people around us experience something entirely different.
Our intentions don't always match our impact.
As leaders, we have a responsibility to pay attention to both.
The only way to know how our leadership is actually experienced is to ask, and to be ready for the answer.
Leadership isn’t just about the results we achieve. It’s also about the environment we create while working toward them.
The Leadership Connection
I’ve always believed that strong organizations are built around people: their experiences, perspectives, talents, and ways of thinking. Together, we can accomplish far more than any one person could alone.
But that only works when people feel trusted. And trust isn’t established because we say, “I trust my team.” It’s demonstrated in how we lead.
Do we give people room to make decisions? Can someone disagree with us without worrying about the consequences? Are we comfortable letting others approach a problem differently than we would? Or have we created an environment where people spend more time anticipating what we want than contributing what they know?
When that happens, people stop sharing ideas. They hesitate to make decisions or challenge an approach they believe could be better. It’s not because they lack ability. It’s because they’ve learned it may not be welcomed.
Silence doesn’t always mean agreement. Sometimes it means people no longer believe their voices will make a difference.
That’s where community matters. The people around us have something to offer that we may not have ourselves: a different perspective, a better solution, an experience we haven’t lived. Sometimes the very thing we need to move forward is something someone has been trying to share with us all along. But we have to be willing to listen. Not to respond or defend our position, but with enough openness to consider that their approach might be better than ours.
We can’t ask people to bring their full selves and their best ideas to the table if we’re unwilling to make room for them. And when we do make room, we benefit too. We don’t have to carry every responsibility alone.
Moving Forward
That scramble taught me that grip isn’t the problem. Gripping everything is.
Loosening our grip as leaders doesn’t mean abandoning accountability or lowering expectations. It means holding firm on what matters most, like direction, standards, and values, and releasing the need to control every detail beyond that. It means leading with confidence while staying open to the possibility that someone else has a better idea.
The true measure of our leadership isn’t how much control we maintain, but how much confidence we build in the people around us.
So, this month, I’m challenging myself, and other leaders, to reflect:
Are we creating environments where people feel trusted, heard, and valued?
Are we listening to understand, or waiting for our turn to respond?
Are we giving people the freedom to contribute their strengths, even when their approach differs from ours?
Are we willing to hear how our leadership is actually experienced, even when the answer makes us uncomfortable?
Sometimes the greatest obstacle to moving forward isn’t the terrain or the challenge in front of us. It’s our own unwillingness to loosen our grip.
What’s one thing you’ve been holding onto too tightly, and what might change if you let it go?
One intentional step at a time.
#TrailCheckIn
