I am an instrument in your orchestra

A colleague recently thanked me for the role I played in her current experience in the corporate world. I reflected on the words. I could not help but think how I was simply an instrument in her orchestra, one of many people who played their part along her way.

What does it mean to be an instrument in someone’s orchestra?

I believe we all have the capacity to become an instrument in someone else’s orchestra by having humility, commitment, patience, and deep listening to the song beneath the words. This belief was reinforced by my reading of the Ignorant Maestro by Israeli conductor Itay Talgam.

Itay argues that leadership is about embracing ignorance and the exploration of gaps. In other words, to know that you do not know and to be completely comfortable with the idea. To know that ignorance has answers in dialogue built on listening. I appreciated the tipping point analogy by which leaders can shift from controlling every detail to enabling others to find their own solutions and allow for their unique brilliance to shine. Yet, how many of us are willing to go to this tipping point?

Talgam invites us to harness the power of transforming “ourselves from the accomplished keynote speakers that we are into keynote listeners, creating change with our ears only.”

Shifting from dictator to catalyst creates the conditions for others to perform at their highest. It might mean stepping back and trusting unpredictable brilliance instead of enforcing predictable compliance.

It also means rethinking success. The question I had when I thought of conductors was whether leadership, as we conceive it, is synonymous with success. There is a successful person in front, like the Maestro, but what can a conductor do without his or her orchestra? So, it is in the collective that we find success. And for this, “Les inattendus” – the unexpected – of N’Geur Sarr, a creative mind of the diaspora, gives us multiple examples that reframed the definition of success. To excel where no one expected them to show up and shine. It matters as inequity may delay the expectations of succeeding. As such, it is not only about meritocracy but beating the odds to reach your pinnacle.

So, one of my takeaways is the importance of defining what success means to you and how you live with it.

My own definition of success is the light that shines onto others’ paths for me. Success is contextual and intrinsically linked to time and space. And this is where the Wolof expression, “Djambar amoul kou niou dimbali mo ame, Jàmbaar amul ku ñu dimbali moo am” resonated with me.

No one is able alone; someone played a role on their journey to success. Thus, I think success is the ability to be accepted, as an instrument, in someone’s else orchestra. It is also about reaching a balance between “the solo playing and the need for collaboration.”

And the search for mastery, or success, as we define it, will come from one’s ability to shift from knowledge sharing to dialogue. It is in the dialogue that we remain in the moment as equals. Talgam’s argument of the conductor embodying ignorance and knowledge in equal parts is critical to the strength of the orchestra.

I grew up in a family where caring for others was a central part of family conversations. My late mother, a nurse, and my late father, a medical doctor, shared their experiences of keeping a patient alive or at times, painfully letting death in. My parents were primarily of service to others. Yet, it required professional and personal sacrifices to achieve their level of commitment to saving lives. I inherited their drive to be of service to others. Thus, I think this is why one of my greatest joys is the ability to be an instrument in someone’s orchestra.

I have been one in my children’s life for more than a decade, and it is the most important definition of success that I know. Indeed, learning to listen more has been a journey for me, especially in my role as a father. A committed father cannot dictate. He must trust the child’s silence and sounds and be willing to explore the unknown with the child. This is how I approach mentoring colleagues now, too, and how I contribute to others’ orchestras.

From the streets of Abidjan to the souks of Dubai, for over 20 years, I have contributed to multiple orchestras. This has included helping a friend find her path, again, in the legal field; helping a colleague reframe her path in the corporate world; and learning together with my children as they navigate the world. These experiences have been about being of service to a growing community. A community trusting a listening mind, an attentive look and the patience to ask questions.

Talgam reminds us that, “What sets Beethoven apart from other composers is not superior knowledge of these and many other essential practices, but his ability to go beyond that knowledge so his outcomes were unpredictable, to the point of surprising himself.”

I invite you to connect with the core by doing the following:

Embrace ignorance by being open to the unknown – accepting others may have better ideas;
Explore spaces between notes in the music sheet – exploring collectively;
Allow questions to beg for creativity and innovation – leading with senses;
Seek harmony while sharpening your mind – contributing with humility.

My final questions to you are: How would you conduct the different orchestras in which you are asked to lead and the ones in which you are asked to play in silence, as a collective? What instrument would you play in the orchestra you are invited to join?