Recently, I gathered with a group of women to explore what happens when something in our leadership or lives begins to change.
We spent part of our time looking at some of the things that shape how we lead.
Expectations.
Definitions of success.
Responsibility.
Protection.
Not because any of these things are inherently bad.
In fact, many of the ways we lead developed for good reasons. They helped us succeed. Belong. Lead. Get things done. Navigate difficult situations.
Some are genuine strengths.
But something can serve us well without needing to remain unquestioned.
And sometimes we need enough space to notice what’s been operating quietly in the background.
As we reflected together, women began naming what they were seeing.
One named letting go of control.
Another reflected that identifying what made you “successful” may not serve you any longer.
Someone else noticed how illuminating it was to realize that her default “problem solver extraordinaire” way of leading wasn’t just something happening inside her own head.
There was recognition in the room.
And I think recognition matters.
Reflection helps us see. Awareness creates choice.
But then the workshop ends…and life happens.
The meeting starts, the email arrives. Someone asks something of us and the familiar responsibility appears. The person who activates an old pattern does exactly what they always do.
And suddenly, the thing we could see so clearly when we had space to reflect can become much harder to see when we’re standing inside the experience.
I’ve been thinking about that.
Because I can understand a pattern long before I stop leading from it.
I can know I tend to take responsibility before anyone asks me to.
I can recognize that I look outside myself for reassurance when I’m uncertain.
I can understand that control helps me feel safer when I don’t know how something will turn out.
I can know that a strength I rely on has become so automatic that I’m no longer consciously choosing when or how to use it.
Insight matters.
But insight isn’t the same as practice.
And perhaps that’s where some of our ideas about leadership development get a little tangled.
We can learn something about ourselves and assume the learning is complete.
We name the pattern.
Understand where it came from.
Write down what we want to do differently.
Maybe even feel genuinely clear about it.
And then Monday morning comes.
The conditions that shaped the familiar response are still there.
So are we.
What if the next question isn’t how to change it?
What if it’s simply: What do I want to practice the next time this shows up?
Not forever, nor perfectly.
Just the next time.
Toward the end of our time together, I asked the women to identify something they wanted to practice.
Their answers weren’t abstract leadership aspirations.
One wanted to ask for help earlier, and practice receiving help differently before fear took over.
Another wanted to notice whether she was believing in herself, using new skills, and actually noticing rather than moving through her leadership on autopilot.
Someone wanted to experiment more publicly with ideas she was developing.
Another wanted to become more curious about where her contribution was actually needed rather than assuming she already knew, and then pay attention to whether what she offered actually landed.
What struck me was that none of these women left knowing exactly what would happen when they tried.
That’s part of the point.
Because practice gives us new experience and new experience gives us something else to learn from.
We try something.
We notice what happens.
Maybe it works, maybe it doesn’t.
Maybe we discover the thing we thought we were practicing isn’t actually the thing that needs our attention.
Maybe the familiar pattern shows up again before we even realize it.
That’s material too.
The point of practice isn’t to prove we’ve finally figured ourselves out.
It’s to become more able to learn from what happens when we try.
Maybe that’s part of what development asks of us
I'm increasingly convinced that leadership development isn't primarily about accumulating more information, tools, or experiences. It's about becoming more capable of learning from the experience we're already having.
It’s about developing our capacity to learn from the experience we’re already having.
To notice what’s shaping us, to reflect on what becomes visible. To discern what this moment actually asks of us and to choose something to practice. To learn from what happens, and to return.
Information may introduce us to a different way of leading.
Reflection may help us see something we couldn’t see before.
Practice is where we begin to discover what it means to live it.
And returning matters because most of us won’t get it right the first time, nor do we need to.
Development isn’t a straight line from insight to changed behavior.
It’s something we inhabit over time, with intention.
So I’ve been thinking about what I want to carry forward from the women who gathered this week.
Maybe we don’t need to change everything we notice.
Maybe we begin by choosing one thing, something you want to notice sooner or a question you want to remember when things get noisy.
Maybe a response you want to experiment with, a responsibility you want to pause before automatically picking up, or a strength you want to use more intentionally.
Take it back into your actual life, see what happens, and pay attention to what your experience teaches you.
That’s enough to practice with.