Components of Creative Ascendancy
And How to Let Fear Flow.
A few weeks ago I introduced the concept of creative ascendancy as an alternative to the zero-sum measurement of competitive advantage. Creative ascendancy is the development of an individual or company relative to their own performance. Essentially it’s saying, “I did something better today than I did yesterday.”
I like this approach to organizational development in particular because it enables purpose for business beyond the necessary initial baseline of profit. In pursuit of their own creative ascendancy, organizations can serve:
as communities (both internally and externally)
as facilitators of individuals’ personal and professional growth
as a catalyst for positive impact and change (in service of a better world)
as creative expression
When you stop charting your course in constant comparison to someone else, it opens up a grand question and space for innovation: “What do you want to achieve?”
What do you want? What do you really, really want?
At first look this is a really difficult question to answer. When there are seemingly an infinite number of possibilities, trying to articulate what you want (in business or life) can seem overwhelming. But if we think of (1) measuring our progress based on our own creative ascendancy, coupled with (2) approaching our work as an artistic practice, and (3) a recognition of our dynamic capabilities, we have lots of resources to work with as we chart our course, even if the direction we’re heading is quite far from our current state.
In this way, thinking of your career as a body of work, and your current role or state as a specific artistic practice for this period of time in which you are in the process of mastering provides a sense of freedom, autonomy for discovery, creation, development, exploration. It means that no matter where you are, you can make something out if it. Your current situation is what you make of it.
This is a lesson I find myself remembering — and forgetting — quite often.
There have been specific moments in my life where I was clear about the direction I was heading, and while I knew that the journey would be risky, not always rewarding, and more often than not quite challenging, I also knew that the experience would be what I made of it.
One of the most illustrative examples that comes to mind was when I decided to undergo back surgery at 21 to correct my scoliosis. I knew the surgery would be a challenging and painful three month recovery, but I also approached the experience with a sense of curiosity, learning and awe. As such I don’t remember the fear or pain of the recovery, but I do have so many memories of the process that left me feeling wondrous. (Most memorable was my first conscious thought on waking up from surgery and feeling as if my feet had shrunk, but then realizing that they appeared smaller because they were farther away now that my straightened spine increased my height by nearly four inches.)
Likewise, in pursuing my PhD I had so many moments when I thought for sure the odds were against me and I would fail. Like when they removed my advisor from my research program, or when we got kicked out of our flat - twice - because the landlords sold the property or decided to put the entire building under major renovations. There were moments throughout that entire process where it felt like the floor was falling out from under me, and I remember it, but not the pain. Only that I loved every moment of getting to pursue that journey.
This is what they mean when they say “Life is what you make of it”. Those things I wanted to be wonderful experiences, and they were.
But I say this is a lesson that I often forget because for so many others, I had the desire to explore, but was less clear on the direction. That lack of self direction mixed with fear — complete fear of failure, of not knowing, convincing myself I was alone on the journey, convincing myself I should have already been, done, or known how to do something — that’s when I failed. That fear is awful. It isolates you. It drains you, leaving you exhausted. Because you’re trying to control it, suppress it, hide it, ignore it.
Come to know your direction and let the fear flow through you.
A few years ago, I took a trip to Hawaii that was part relaxation, part adventure challenges at a resort. I asked the coordinator to book experiences that would help me feel “more grounded.” Ironically, they booked me into an obstacle course where I had to (among other challenges) climb to the top of a tree and jump out of it to grab a trapeze bar.
Standing on the two foot square platform at the top of the tree, ready to jump, the instructor, Elliot, asked me, “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” I say quickly.
“No really, how are you feeling?”
And then this rush of fire floods my entire body. My arms are feeling like they are burning from the inside out. Sweat immediately starting pouring from my hairline and my heart catches in my chest. The fear is quite literally rushing through me. Tears are streaming down my face.
“I’m scared,” I shout, but it comes out as a near whisper.
“That’s exactly as you’re supposed to feel,” he said. “Do you feel that rush through your whole body? The constriction in your chest?” as he literally holds his own chest exactly where mine is in a fire of pain. “That’s fear. And that is normal.”
He continued, “I will point out that you are standing on a ledge, hanging from a tree that is five stories up, ready to jump off of it. Of course you’re going to feel the way you do now.”
Have you ever felt like that? Have you ever been in a new situation, and felt you were expected to handle it, exactly like a normal everyday routine, like brushing your teeth. No fear here! But you aren’t brushing your teeth are you? You’re before a big client meeting that was just that far outside of your league. Or how about before a meeting with an under-performing employee where you finally had to let them go? Before an important job interview? Before an interview with someone from the media? Oh gosh - who knows what they’re going to do with what you say!? How about before a major presentation to the CEO? Before a conversation with your boss to pitch a new idea? Before having to make a difficult decision about the future health and care of your parents? Before deciding to make a big life change: marriage, the end of marriage, a big move. Before taking a chance on a long held quiet dream.
We encounter lots of moments when we feel this same rush of fear, but we’re not in a controlled setting — we’re out there in the wild. And we’re expected / expecting ourselves to just perform. And I have found that when I try to control it, suppress it, ignore it, it doesn’t work.
But that recognition, that recognition of it was all it took. To have it be okay to name where I was and how it felt to be there. To say, “I haven’t done this before, and I’m scared. But I want to, I want to try to take this leap.”
This is going to sound cheesy: let it flow. Standing at the top of that tree taught me that if you construct and contract in an effort to control you will likely freeze. That’s what Elliot told me, “Let it flow.” Feel it. Recognize it. It will pass. It will pass through you. And when you’re ready, you can take action. You can jump.
So I did. I jumped. For me it felt like I leaped ten feet out to grab the pole. When I got down, I laughed because in reality, the pole was so close that I could have just reached out and grabbed it. But to me, it was a great big leap.
Which brings me to my other point: on our artist-adventurer journey, we are navigating our own unique set of skills. I could handle a reach-out version of a ten-foot-leap.
Elliot told me a story of another guy who did it. This guy was an adventurer, mountain climber, adrenaline junkie. He climbed that tree swiftly, and moved that pole all the way out as far as it could go. And he leaped. And he was just about to make it when in almost slow motion everyone saw that he was about three inches too far away, and gravity was kicking in. And in that instant he turned his body so that instead of grabbing with both hands, he could brush the tips of his fingers of just his right hand around the pole. He grabbed it, and swinging from one hand, he swung his other hand up and grabbed back on. Now this guy was a mountain climber. He was an adventurer. He was an adrenaline junkie. That story, his story, makes sense for him. That’s where he was.
I am not that. (Yet.)
For me to expect myself to do that is crazy. My body is not prepared. So I could handle a reach-out ten-foot-leap-in-my-head.
And then I did it again. And on the second time, I moved the pole all the way out.
— No! Just kidding! I just moved it out like another foot. Just twelve more inches farther away. And it took longer for me to feel the fear and let it flow. But it did. And I leaped, and I grabbed it.
And the next time I know I could do better.
Again, that’s my creative ascendancy.
And I think as leaders of our organizations and members of our communities, that’s the example we can set for those around us.
The first step is to set our direction, to set the bar.
The second step is to recognize and feel the fear, to let it flow.
The third step is to leap.
In this journey, creative ascendancy isn’t about perfection, but about setting a clear direction, letting the fear flow through us, and taking those brave leaps forward.
Importantly, when we acknowledge fear, we give it space to flow, transforming it into the energy we need to ascend creatively. Let it propel you.
Onward.