Winter is coming.

What kind of leadership becomes possible when I allow growth to emerge from stillness and deliberate quiet?

In the northern hemisphere, sunlight, our source of life, is shortening day-by-day bringing with it darkness, cold and stillness before it begins cycling back to rambunctious summer glory. Because of that astronomical epoch, this incredible earthly season invites us along to slow pace and listen.

As the year closes, we could be drawn to evaluate, judge and measure ourselves. We often do that. We say, “that’s how you learn!”

I may have said that, in fact.

What worked this year? What didn’t? What should have gone differently? Where did we mess up? Where did you fail?

What if we deliberately chose not to do that?

What if we approached the season embracing a sense of growth rather than scarcity and flinty industriousness? A growth point of view just might offer us gentle, more generative learning, as opposed to up or down, in or out thinking.

Winter is a time of dormancy, rest and regeneration. It is not the season for harsh self-assessment and robust, wild germination and proliferation. Instead, winter is a season to gather the richness of the past year, store and feast.

What if we intentionally took that seasonal cue here at year’s end?  Perhaps then we could release the need to give marks and grades. You know the impulse to look at the bottom line, complete the report card.

Was the year a success or failure?  Does it get an A or F?

Instead, why not ask: What did this year teach me?

Where did I stretch outside my comfort zone?

Where did we confront and mature?

When did I discover limits inside myself with family, lover, colleagues in my capacity to help, lead and improve?

If we took that opportunity for quiet introspection, might we gain clarity rather than assign blame and generate shame?

Winter leadership honors with rest as a form of wisdom. Just as ecosystems pause to regenerate, winter leaders benefit from acknowledging fatigue, honoring effort in themselves and for those whom they lead. These wise winter leaders sitting around the fire nurture insight to the surface without forcing.

Our growth is not always the result of relentless forward production and motion. There is a time for that. Sustainable growth can, on the other hand, ignite from a slow simmer of integration, adaptation and evolution. That is growth that comes from wisdom and insight.

My winter reflection asks us to notice how we led.

Where did we create space for learning rather than perfection?

Where did we model curiosity not certainty?

Where did we allow mistakes to become teachers rather than liabilities?

As our year closes, we definitely do not need to carry every unfinished goal robotically over into the next.

Some lessons are complete simply because of the experience. Experience takes that long view. It is cumulatively shaped by our many seasons not necessarily the fast-paced moments.

Consider letting winter be a threshold rather than a verdict.

Maybe it’s time to gather yourself and your loved ones. Pursue perspective. Release what no longer serves you. Step forward into openness heading toward spring.

I believe that kind of leadership rooted in considered growth is available to all of us if we will simply pause, listen and allow for it.

Those embers of rich leadership, though readily at hand, are not noticed by everyone. That leadership instead comes to the wise ones. The ones who’ve learned through much experience that true leadership is nurtured deliberately from persistence, patience and a whole bunch of focused intention.