The conscious shift that separates competence from genius
Welcome entrepreneurs. I’m so glad you’re here.
At 37 years old, I decided I wanted to learn how to play the piano. I drilled the scales, played Mary Had a Little Lamb ad nauseam, and even used a really useful app to play simple versions of good songs. It was a lot of work, memorization, and practice. And then, after many, many hours, I remember the moment in which I first found myself simply playing. I laughed in delight as my hands found the right keys without conscious effort.
There’s a lot for leaders to learn from music. And I learned a lot about coaching from my efforts at the keys. Specifically, the mind shift required to go from following specific mechanics of a thing, to fluid competence, to true mastery.
Let’s dive in.
What music performance can teach us about leadership development
I’ve learned the hard way: if I don’t successfully empty myself before a session, I coach like shit.
When I show up to a session determined to coach well, then I pay less attention to the client. Instead of listening to them describe their interactions with their cofounder, I’m off thinking about ninja coaching moves I might pull, or the perfect question or model. I can tell myself I do those things in the client’s interests, but if I’m being honest, why I really do them is to make me look impressive in the client’s eyes. So they’ll think I’m a Good Coach.
Without meaning to, when I come into a session trying to do great work, I make the entire session about me. Nobody gets transformed from that place. Not me and definitely not the client.
That’s why I meditate each morning. That’s why I journal. That’s why I practice emptying myself over and over and over again, shifting my mode of consciousness. So I can do it on command, each time I work with a client, or play with my kids.
When I’m in the moment in this way – these days it happens more than it doesn’t – inspiration just comes. The emptier I can get, the clearer I can hear it. I see things, not even consciously, and then from somewhere “out there” I know exactly what question to ask. When I’m in this mode, there is no “me” to protect. No identity as a Good Coach or a Successful Entrepreneur to buttress. It’s only this moment, what wants to unfold within this moment, and a body/mind playing the one note that completes the melody.
It’s magic.
Yes, you have to practice. You have to do your scales with thought and consideration, build muscle memory and skills. But if you want to play a symphony, you also need to be able to turn your analytical brain off and fucking play.
Same with sports. Training happens with your brain on, or the part of your brain that thinks anyway, and performance, the really peak performance that we’re all chasing, that happens only when your processing brain is put aside and you’re running on instinct. Intuition. Same with art, or any creative pursuit.
Same with coaching. And leadership.
We all want to do great work. But what you learn with enough experience is that the urgent wanting fucks it all up. When you try hard to be great, you end up being average. When you stop trying and just open to the flow, you do great work. God has a sense of humor.
I think this shift, the willingness to trust your training, trust yourself, and let go, is what separates competence from genius.
Drumming
“I have to have a hard conversation with my Chief of Staff,” he said. My client, I could tell, really wanted it to go well. “I’ve gone through and really thought about what I want out of the conversation. I know the pros and cons, and I want her to stay in her role, but I need her to change four things.” He read the four things from a notepad he’d brought to the session.
“You’ve done your homework,” I remarked as he finished setting the stage for the conversation he wanted to have. “So since you’re so prepared, what do you want from our session today?”
He paused, considering. I love it when a person knows wtf they want and comes in hot, but I also admire when they pause to think. “I just want it to go well,” he said. Through his nervous energy I could sense that the stakes for this conversation were high.
If I had been trying to be a Good Coach, I likely would have analyzed the things he wanted to talk about. We could have gone into detail about each one and made sure they hit just the right combination of directness and empathy. We could have sanity checked each one against the goals he’d set, and that all would have been a waste of time that made us both feel productive.
But I wasn’t trying to be a Good Coach. I was empty. And the symphony’s missing note just came to me. I noticed the framed concert posters on the far wall of his office, pictured inside the Zoom screen.
“You’re a drummer, right?” I said, remembering that he had played in a band for most of his life and still did. I had only the barest thread of where I was going with this, but I proceeded with all the confidence in the world. He confirmed. “How much did you practice drumming to get to where you can play like you play?”
“I’ve practiced my whole life,” he said. “Why?”
“Close your eyes,” I instructed. “Remember the last time you were trying to learn a new set. Put yourself back in that moment. You’re at the drums, and you need to figure out how to learn this new song. What does that feel like?”
He sat still. Attention inward. “It’s just a lot of repetition, honestly,” he said. “I can hear the notes in my head, but at first playing them feels hard. I go slow, and I mess up a bunch of times. But after a certain number of times, more these days than in my glory days,” he laughed. “After a certain number of times it just kind of clicks. I might mess up a bunch of times in the process of learning a measure, but eventually my hands just figure out how to play it.”
“Sounds like a lot of preparation,” I observed. “Now remember when you last performed at your best. You did all that preparation, drilled it as much as you needed to, and it was showtime. At that moment, how do you sit down on stage to play with your band? Do you go through the same process?”
”God no,” he laughed. “By the time I get there my brain turns off and I’m just drumming. I don’t think about what I’m playing because I know what I’m playing. I just play.”
“What does that feel like?” I asked. “What does it feel like to know in your bones that you’re prepared, to trust that preparation and let go and trust yourself to just play?”
“Relaxed,” he sighed. “Open.”
We sat in silence for a beat, appreciating the feeling of just playing. Of having practiced, having put in the time and effort to truly understand something, and now knowing that you’re ready, letting go of all the effort and simply losing yourself in the music. After a minute, he opened his eyes.
“Have you properly prepared for your conversation with your Chief of Staff?” I asked.
“Way more than properly prepared,” he shook his head as he considered it. “I’ve been thinking about this, running in circles for days. There’s nothing new, I’m just nervous.”
“Do you feel nervous when you get on stage to perform?”
He considered the question, and then smiled. Making the connection. “Every time.”
Stepping on stage
At this point I’ve put in over 500 hours as a coach. Many more in various aspects of training. Add to that 15,000 hours as a CEO and countless hours of work on my own cognitive and spiritual development. It’s tough to make the case that I’m not prepared. I am.
But sometimes, when it comes time to step on stage, I still tighten up. I feel like I have to bring the same concentration, the same focus, the same work to the symphony that I brought to practicing my scales. I imagine all the bad things that might happen if I mess up a note. The laughter and ridicule. The shame. This happens to me in coaching conversations, and it happens to CEOs in critical conversations with investors and employees.
But I’ve also been on stage enough to know what it feels like to surrender to the moment, trust your training, and just drum.
Have you properly prepared for the work you do?
Can you let go and just drum?
Want to dive deeper?
If you liked this, check out this list of my top posts, read and shared by thousands of entrepreneurs.
Here are a few of my favorites:
The secret to leadership (why authentic leadership is simply more effective)
How to pitch a big vision to investors without setting yourself up to let people down
Executive Coaching for Entrepreneurs
There’s a reason every elite athlete in the world works with a coach. You need more than one perspective to see your best work.
I’m an executive coach and the founder of Inside-Out Leadership, a boutique leadership development agency that supports entrepreneurs to step fully into their lives, and transform their companies into their masterpieces.
Leveraging 15-years as a founder/CEO, along with deep training in mindfulness, psychology, Neurolinguistic Programming, psychedelic integration and more, I have helped leaders from some of the fastest growing companies and VC funds in the world design a more conscious life and make key changes to improve their performance and satisfaction.
I coach leaders how I want to be coached:
Focused on the person, not the role.
Focused on results, without the fluff.
To learn more about working with me, click here.