In any creative or professional life, there comes a time when the thing you’ve created begins to beg to be left alone. Even if you are unable to identify it, you can sense it. The company has its own pulse, the painting is finished, and the report is filed, but the hands that created it continue to hover, adjust, and second-guess. It turns out that one of the most difficult physical actions a person can perform is walking away.
In 1974, Marina Abramović realized this as she stood motionless in a gallery in Naples while strangers cut her clothing, stabbed her with thorns, and finally put a loaded gun to her throat. Six hours and seventy-two objects were presented to the public. Her body wasn’t the work. The surrender was the work. The founder who can’t stop signing checks, the writer who keeps editing a published essay, and the parent who edits a grown child’s resume at midnight are just a few examples of how the idea permeates everyday life. Most of us would never go that far.
Observing all of this, it seems as though we have mistaken presence for value. According to a recent article on delegation in the Harvard Business Review, leaders frequently cling to tasks because they have become an integral part of who they are. When you remove the task, something feels exposed underneath. For this reason, while strategic choices are pending, a CEO will personally approve a vendor invoice. It seems productive. It has a leadership vibe. Most of the time, it’s a beautifully disguised form of fear.
Recently, columnist Mahtab Uddin Ahmed shared a story about his uncle in Banani who attempted to manage an entire Eid qurbani by himself, complete with spreadsheets, butchers, distribution, curry, and a whistle around his neck. He ended up with kidneys missing and a six-year-old promoted to head of logistics. Although it appeared to be humorous, it wasn’t. It depicted a household paying the price in lost organs and silent bitterness, as well as a man unable to trust the work to anyone else.
It’s interesting to note how frequently the grippers characterize themselves as giving. They will claim to be mentoring, maintaining involvement, and safeguarding quality. And perhaps they are. However, the distinction between obstruction and mentoring is more hazy than most people acknowledge. A team that has never been permitted to fail has also never been permitted to develop. The silence that follows—the space left empty so that someone else can fill it—may be the true gift that a leader bestows.
Running away is not the same as walking away. In the words of artist Stephanie Dillon, who started reevaluating her career after receiving a cancer diagnosis, “there is a beat between perfection and ruin, and recognizing that beat is most of the work.” If you stay too long, you will smudge the completed work. If you leave too soon, it will fall apart. The timing is the skill, and timing is primarily humility.
It’s difficult to ignore how infrequently this is taught. We honor the auteur, the visible hand, and the founder myth. For the opposite, such as the silent departure, the unsigned check, and the purposefully ignored message, we don’t really have any rituals. Perhaps we ought to. Because the creations whose creators eventually trusted the public enough to let them go are typically the ones that endure, whether in business, art, or anything else. Ultimately, the whistle was never the purpose.
