Lessons From Rudy: 4 leadership learnings from loss

Two weekends ago, I hosted the Spring Into Joy yoga retreat. Feedback so far from participants is positive! I also received feedback on how I can improve in my yoga teaching, as well as facility choices like breakfast.

I'm so grateful for all the feedback, because it tells me that the participants felt comfortable and safe enough to share everything, not just the "good" stuff. It also tells me that they want to come back and/or share future retreat possibilities with others.

One of the funnier moments came when I realized that I kept telling individual participants "yes" when they entered into a pose that worked for them, and demonstrated the alignment that would keep them safe as well as experience the benefits of the pose.

Then, I realized "I'm saying 'yes' so much because of Rudy's training!"

Rudy, was, my sweet corgi dog. More on that in a moment. (Trigger warning: if you love animals or are sensitive, you may not want to continue.)

Rudy started out not so sweet. In fact, he was a holy menace. Out of all the dogs I've ever had, I had not had a 5-month-old puppy quite like Rudy. In fact, I gave Rudy his name because he was "rude" to my other two dogs! He was so scared and reactive to EVERYTHING that I feared for my sanity.

As soon as I could, I got him into a puppy training class with the local outfit, Rockin' K9 from Choteau, MT. The owner, Prairie, was amazing. She not only taught me how to manage Rudy through positive reinforcement, she also taught me how to remain "neutral" if Rudy did not do the behavior I requested. For example, if I was teaching Rudy "down", and he didn't do it, I waited until he started to do it, and then I rewarded him and said "yes". So, even if he didn't go "down" the whole way, he quickly realized what I was after when he was rewarded for partial "downs". Anytime Rudy got close to a task or completed the task, I said the word "yes" and gave him a treat.

When I shared this with the retreat participants, we all laughed. Some folks suggested I bring a bag of human treats for the next retreat! It was a moment of levity and fun as participants worked hard at their asana practice.

The main theme of the dharma talk on Saturday night was peace, the energetic vibrations of peace, and the international peace movement started by Mr. Masahisa Goi, with the prayer "May Peace Prevail On Earth". In the peace readings I brought into the talk, the idea of reaching "neutrality" was better than "judgment" or "disdain". (Sound familiar?) When I read the feedback, I did my best to remain neutral, and take the ideas within the context of each student. Yet, I also did my best to keep an open mind and consider how I could incorporate the feedback into the next retreat.

Running a retreat is not easy, because each student has different abilities, needs, and desires. Some participants shared the yoga room was too cold. Yet, for some mature women (read in menopause) the temperature was just right or too warm. Some participants loved the use of partner work, while others were not thrilled by it.

What to do?

The number one thing is something I learned with great heartache a few days after the retreat ended, when Rudy was hit by a car. It was shocking and completely unexpected.

One of the first things I felt was guilt. I "should have" trained him to not chase after cars. I "should not have" let him out when he barked at the car that day. The list went on. We can learn leadership lessons even from loss. Here is the first lesson Rudy taught me from his tragic passing:

Rudy gazing into the Montana wilderness

1) Blaming yourself for things you cannot control is not useful

During the dharma talk at the retreat, I went into a lengthy discussion about energy of thoughts and emotions. I brought in Mr. Goi's theory, as well as the theory and experiments of David R. Hawkins in his book Power vs Force. In it, Mr. Hawkins highlighted the results of a machine he calibrated to detect the vibrational energy of emotions and mental states. After countless people used the machine with the same emotions or mental states calibrating at the same numbers, he created a chart. He demonstrated that even a state of anger was better than a state of grief, according to the machine. With anger, there was a chance of movement or change or a shift of energy. With grief, there was hopelessness and stagnation.

As leaders, there are so many things we cannot control. As the yoga leader at the retreat, I could not control that the staff had cranked the heat in the room before we arrived on Friday. I could not control that participants did not express their dietary needs or desires to the kitchen staff while registering at the hot springs. In some spiritual or 12-step circles, people say: "I cannot control people, places, or things." That pretty much covers everything!

So, what can we control? Our own responses. We can control our self-talk in the face of a tragedy or when things go badly. We can control whether we learn from the challenging situation, or remain stagnant and even more entrenched emotionally or mentally.

Beating myself up about Rudy's death and what I "ought" to or "ought" not to have done does not serve me or allow me to process the loss. It does not help me to continue on with my life, while also grieving. It does not allow me to view the feedback from retreat participants with gratitude. Feeling guilty over Rudy's death, which, when discussed with the couple who hit him was completely unavoidable, doesn't serve anyone. It only keeps me in a sensitive, defensive place, where I view the world through a mud-colored lens.

Blaming myself also allows me to blame others. The couple who hit Rudy felt gutted, and because I did not blame them, I was able to receive their support while Rudy passed. We all cried together. We exchanged hugs. They helped me bury Rudy. I couldn't have gone through this loss alone, and I didn't have to because even though I blamed myself, I did not turn that self-blame on them, at least. When I am not treating myself with peace, with kindness and compassion, then how can I treat others with these qualities?

And, if you aim to be a self-aware leader who influences with authenticity, then it's essential to be aware of the internal-external paradigm: what you experience in your inner world, is directly shown to you in your outer world. How does blaming myself show up in my outer world? In ways where I allow others to walk all over me, or I become too afraid to make any decisions at all. The next thing I know, my power is turned off because I was too afraid to pay the bill. Seems like a silly extreme, but people do this all the time. Even if you can't shift your self-blame to self-love, even just shifting to "neutral", where you don't see your role as good or bad, is a shift in the right direction, according to Mr. Hawkins and Mr. Goi.

2) When compassion or empathy is lacking, offer grace

The day after Rudy died, a friend from my spiritual community called for our weekly check-in. I had forgotten all about the call because of the grief.

She comes from a state and place in the US kind of known for self-centeredness. This person is actually very kind and sweet, and does not mean any ill will, even though she sometimes touts the beauty of her location above all others in the world. People often get like this about where they live - I sometimes do about where I live in Montana! So, I try to offer her some grace.

After her check-in, it was my turn, and I broke down explaining how Rudy died the night before. Immediately she offered empathy and support. Then, she said, "Well, at least you have the two other dogs."

Oof.

I was too shocked to respond. In that silence, she realized her mistake and immediately apologized. She admitted that was an unkind thing to say.

Instead of brushing it off to make her feel better, I replied, "Thank you. Not everyone is a dog or pet person, yet I know your intent was to support." Because, truly, that was her intent.

In the face of loss, or a failed project, or a failed bill, or anything like that within an organization, people struggle to know what to say. Especially if the person lost their job as a result of that situation.

I appreciate my friend and the support we offer each other through the weeks. It means a lot to me to keep the friendship. Therefore, why wouldn't I want to offer her grace for her gaff? Nobody is perfect! I certainly am not the perfect dog owner, seeing as that my dog just got run over. Who am I to judge?

When we pause, and allow for some space, grace has a chance to enter into the conversation. I didn't even need to say anything to my friend. Within seconds, she acknowledge her mis-step, and apologized.

With all the emotions I was feeling at the time, it would have been common or expected for me to take offense at what my friend said. Yet, what is the point? How would that have served either of us? Or the friendship? Nine times out of ten, when a person is offended by something, the person causing the offense didn't mean it. So, why take it? Instead, can a learning opportunity be offered? (I want to acknowledge that for People of Color, this educating instead of being offended thing can be exhausting. Please know I understand if this does not resonate and if you don't agree with this sentiment. I see you and hear you for your own unique experience of the world that I will simply never know.) Not only was the friendship saved, but I exerted a lot less energy, energy that I simply didn't have in that moment. Most of the time, people mean well. Trust that. Offer grace first. See what it brings you.

3) EVERYTHING is an opportunity for growth, if we allow it

Even though Rudy's death is incredibly painful, I am writing about it, sharing the lessons I've learned so far with others, and allowing myself to learn how I could be a better dog owner in the future. That being said, I've also taken several naps, read some fun stories, and taken things easy these last days, especially after my neighbor and I buried Rudy on my land.

In my recent meditation class with the Tergar Meditation Community, my teacher, upon hearing about the tragic loss, told me "short times, many times". She suggested being very gentle in meditating with the large emotions of the loss, and not forcing myself to sit in them for lengthy periods of time. Interestingly, meditating for 15 minutes, like our homework suggested, helped me to shift out of the deep emotions. It was more like I simply became more comfortable feeling them, so their intensity decreased. It was an incredible thing to experience with such a tough situation.

The point is, I sat with my emotions as much as I could stand them, and then I did other things. Then, I came back to meditate more. I didn't wallow in the intense emotions for hours on end.

Because of this light touch, yet refraining from pushing the grief away, I kept my mind and heart open to what I could learn. What could this experience teach me? How could I allow little Rudy to continue to teach me even in death? Because, he really taught me a lot, let me tell you. Never before had I needed to take a dog to a training class, but I did with Rudy. I now have tools to keep my dogs calm when they are stressed, to reward them for the good behavior I want to see from them, and to trust me in every situation.

Now, apply that to your employees or subordinates. Do you have tools to keep your people calm when they are stressed? Which helps them stay more productive? Do you reward your people for good behavior that you see? Which in turn, is a demonstration that you trust their autonomy? Do your people trust you in every situation? Have you given them reason to?

Self-awareness is something we can cultivate in every situation. In emotionally painful times, it happens when we parse out what is truly our responsibility, and what is beyond our control (see #1 above).

4) When in doubt, say "yes'

"Yes" was the keyword for Rudy and he responded well to the repetition of it. After a while, I didn't need to use a treat, but rather I gave him affection that he soaked right up. I think about the movie from some years ago, "Yes Man". I was always touched by the scene where the protagonist, Carl (played by Jim Carrey), approves all the microloans that were applied for at the bank he worked at. The loan recipients are so shocked, and so grateful, that like 99% of them repay the loans on time or even early. As a result, Carl is promoted.

What if we said "yes" to every piece of feedback we received? What if we said "yes" to every opportunity? What would our lives look like, then? What if we say "yes" to an employee's idea? To a trip our spouse wants to go on that's in a seemingly random destination? To our child's desire that we are home more?

I said "yes" to Rudy when he was gifted to me by my Native friend. It is impolite to reject gifts from a person in most Native American cultures. I thought I wanted a 3rd dog as a playmate for Annie, but once I got Rudy, I had serious doubts. Even so, despite all of Rudy's sensitivities and idiosyncrasies, I said "yes" to Rudy. And, it was the best year-and-a-half of my life. I learned, I grew, I laughed so hard at his antics, I supported his joie de vivre.

Saying "yes" to everything is not the answer. Yet, most of the time, we live in "no" because we are afraid, lacking in confidence, or simply used to it. Slowly but surely, step-by-step, how and in what ways can you say "yes" more? And, what might the results of a "yes-based" leadership strategy be for you?

Rudy sleeping with a blep

We learn leadership lessons from gains. We learn leadership lessons from loss. We learn leadership lessons from everything, if we open to it. Thank you, Rudy, you canine being, for gracing us with your furry, four-legged spirit and teaching us so much.

Rudy was a very good boy, and continues to be now that he's across the rainbow bridge. I celebrate all of him, both the endearing parts and the annoying parts. I celebrate how he challenged me to be better. I celebrate his never-ending spirit to take over the world, even though he was only two feet tall. Rudy's mojo never ceased.

Yes, Rudy. Yes.