A client is in the process of transitioning out as the CEO of the company he founded. He previously negotiated a sale to a corporate parent, which achieved his financial goals for the business while allowing it to continue operating independently and positioning him as a shareholder of the parent.
He's delegated managerial duties to his hand-picked successor, he's preparing to step into an executive chair role, and he's confident that this is the right move at the right time. He feels optimistic about the future of the business...and yet he's also had the nagging feeling that something was off, and a recent coaching session helped to illuminate the issue.
I suggested that Joseph Campbell's concept of the Hero's Journey might be useful in exploring his situation. Campbell was an American scholar who applied the insights of psychology to his study of mythology, folklore and religious traditions from around the world, and I find his ideas highly relevant to my work with leaders. [1]
In the Hero's Journey, also known as the monomyth because it appears so frequently in so many different cultures, we meet the hero in their ordinary existence, the "World of Common Day," as Campbell called it. The hero is "called to adventure," and if they heed the call they venture forth into a "Region of Supernatural Wonder," where they encounter various allies and adversaries in the course of a series of struggles in search of a "boon," a trophy or prize to be shared:
When the hero-quest has been accomplished...the adventurer still must return with their life-transmuting trophy. The full round, the norm of the monomyth, requires that the hero shall now begin the labor of bringing [their prize] back into the kingdom of humanity, where the boon may redound to the renewing of the community. [2]
This led to a discussion with my client of leadership as a journey, with a destination, a goal, and a conveyance, a means of making progress along the path. As a founder and CEO, my client was an oarsman, straining hard to propel his craft forward. It was arduous work, but it had certain advantages. The destination was far in the distance over the horizon, but the compass pointed straight to it: the survival and ultimate success of the company. The goal was by no means certain to be achieved, but it was commonly understood: financial returns sufficient to meet the needs of all stakeholders.
There was another advantage to the work of an oarsman: my client's labors were clearly visible to all. Anyone with an interest in my client or the company could see that he was constantly striving and doing his best. There was never any question about his work ethic, his commitment, or his values. And yet having completed his "hero-quest" through the sale of the company, my client now found himself in uncertain territory. Retiring to a life of leisure held little appeal for him. While this may seem surprising to some, it's a common response among my clients:
We have a number of preconceived notions about what it would be like to not have to work, and they're often some form of "life as permanent vacation." That's certainly what some people do when they realize a windfall, and if it brings them joy, then good for them. But that's not what I've observed in my practice. It turns out that many people who've worked hard their entire careers have a finite capacity for being on vacation. [3]
When people like my client have achieved a degree of financial freedom, they still need to make a contribution through some form of work. But simply continuing on as an oarsman would pose inevitable difficulties. My client's successor was ready and able to take up the oars himself. He was eager to benefit from my client's guidance as executive chair, but he also wanted a degree of autonomy and independence as CEO. My client would have to determine how to add value in this new capacity without holding on to an oar. [4]
My client also has a role to play as a shareholder in the parent, but he realized that approaching it as an oarsman would be the wrong mindset. It would occupy more time and energy than necessary and distract him from the essential project of finding a new sense of purpose, a new identity. While he won't be "retired," he may elect to remain in the "World of Common Day," sharing what he learned on his quest and stepping into the role of teacher or sage. [5] Or he may find himself called to pursue another venture in the "Region of Supernatural Wonder" and embark on a new quest.
With these and other options now available to my client, he's realized that he must change how he thinks about work, which entails a change in how he thinks about himself. He's still on a journey, but not as an oarsman. It's time to stow the oars and raise the sails. The sailor doesn't just go where the breeze takes him, of course. He is an active navigator, but he must be open to possibilities, sensing and responding to the prevailing winds. Under the right conditions he can change course rapidly. And he can travel vast distances, enabling him to pursue a wider range of destinations.
And yet while this new way of thinking offers certain benefits, it also poses challenges. The sailor can make more progress than an oarsman, but the path he takes is far less predictable. The ability to change course and travel farther requires a greater tolerance for ambiguity and uncertainty. And while the sailor plays an active role with his hand on the tiller, his efforts aren't always visible. To the untrained eye it may look like he's just sitting there, which can be unnerving to the veteran oarsman.
But even these challenges play an important part in the process of bringing one Hero's Journey to a close and preparing for the possibility of another. Campbell notes that the hero's successful return is by no means an easy transition: "The first problem of the returning hero is to accept as real, after an experience of the soul-satisfying vision of fulfillment, the passing joys and sorrows, banalities and noisy obscenities of life." [6]
The oarsman struggles mightily against the current, but he enjoys the struggle, in part because it keeps the "banalities and noisy obscenities of life" at a distance. It can be tempting to keep them at bay by holding tightly to the oars, imagining that this remains duty of a hero. The new challenges posed by sailing remind the hero that they must adapt to their new circumstances.
Footnotes
[1] The Hero's Journey in Everyday Life
[2] The Hero with a Thousand Faces, page 167 (Joseph Campbell, New World Library, Third Edition, 2008)
[3] What Do You Need When You Don't Need the Money?
[4] The Ambiguous Role of Executive Chair
[6] Campbell, page 189.
Photo by Alvin Trusty.
