I miss dancing for pure fun. As much as I love dancing flamenco and have been transformed by this art form — to the point of integrating it into my speaking and coaching work with leaders — it’s become more difficult to keep going.
I used to belong to lively flamenco communities in San Francisco and Seville, taking classes with master teachers, performing regularly, and practicing almost daily. But three years into my move to Portugal, I can hardly summon the will to go to the studio. Flamenco is not popular here which is ironic, since we’re right next door to Spain. I’ve been practicing mostly alone because dancers at my level are usually the teachers here. I have taught a couple of workshops to promote some kind of social purpose, like mental health in seniors or confidence in girls, but otherwise, teaching is not for me. If I want to perform, there’s a lot of extra work. I have to pitch, produce, hire musicians and market the show myself to venues and audiences who like the novelty but aren’t the kind of aficionados who value and sustain a flamenco scene. Still, I worked hard to recreate the past, but I finally accepted that, if I was to continue to dance, I had to reshape my relationship to flamenco. Now, I practice in intensive sprints based on scheduled talks or shows. And I relocate to Spain a few weeks per year to take classes and soak in the culture.
This reconfiguration created a “dance hole” in my life, so I signed up for a social dance class with the added benefits of meeting new people and just having fun.This is going to be a piece of cake. After all, I’ve been dancing and performing for almost four decades (can you tell I have an ego, yet? If not, read on.).
First class, intermediate level. I’m in a large ballroom filled with people in their late 40s, 50s and 60s, going over some simple steps. We’re switching partners often, and I’m feeling good, happy that this is easy for a change: just one-two-three, no syncopated rhythm combinations, no elaborate footwork, and no need to pay attention to my lines. How relaxing.
Until one of my partners, an older gentleman, started giving me unprompted feedback. “You’re not in rhythm,” he says, “listen to the music.” I raise an eyebrow (uh- hello?! who asked you?). As he continued to give me pointers, I smiled politely, and almost laughed. Since returning to the Iberian Peninsula, there’s been a surge in the number of men in my life who talk at me, give me instructions, ask how old I am, tell me all the reasons why I shouldn’t feel the way I do, that I should have had children, and that I should be nicer. Here was another one.
I contemplated whether to thank him, or give him some feedback of my own on his mansplaining. But I just let it go and moved on to my next dance partner.
A couple of weeks later, another male dance partner shared unsolicited feedback: You need more tension in your arms, he declared.
“Are you kidding? Another one?!”, I thought. Just two minutes before I had danced with the teacher himself, who said nothing. This guy was obviously unqualified.
The following week, and another dance-partner-slash-feedback-giver: “Your turns are too fast”.
OK. Can’t ignore this. Three is officially a pattern. Could they be right?…
It was not so much the feedback on my skills that shook me. It was the fact that I had been so wrapped up in my righteousness that I had failed to recognize the truth in it. That my infinite experience as a solo dancer didn’t make me an ace in couples dancing. That I also (gasp!) had things to learn.
This phenomenon of being so self-involved that you lose self-awareness, is an experience I’ve also had at work. In fact, it’s a see-saw team facilitators and leaders often need to navigate.
Self-awareness means staying present with what's happening in the moment – noticing where you are in space and time, what is happening in you and around you, with little to no judgment be it of yourself or others. Akin to an empty vessel, a dispassionate (yet engaged) actor.
Self-involvement, on the other hand, means having a personal agenda we’re tied to. Getting so caught up in our plans or our reputations that we become single-mindedly focused on protecting, proving, or performing.
For instance, self-awareness is being conscious of myself in a tense meeting, where I notice I’m getting frustrated and I use that to understand myself and the situation better (“What’s driving this? What else is happening in this conversation?") so I can take right action.
But say I don’t even notice that I’m frustrated (let alone why), and get lost in thoughts such as “We’re not moving forward. I need to get this done. Why are they so slow? They need to hear this, now!". That's self-involvement.
One response keeps me in the here and now, able to sense and respond with what is needed– the other filters reality through the lens of my goals, takes me out of the moment and into reactivity.
The Protection Trap
The key difference often comes down to protection. When we're self-involved, we're trying to protect something – our self-image or reputation, our power, our goals, or need to feel in control or safe. I see this constantly in organizations, especially during times of change. Leaders shutting down or hiding during conflict because they don't like the tension. Throwing their weight around to stay on top. Rushing to action because they need to be seen as decisive. Or not stepping up because they fear being seen as dominant.
This protection mechanism, while natural and understandable, ultimately makes us tense, even unhappy, and significantly limits our leadership potential. When we're caught up in managing perceptions or defending our identity, we're unavailable – to ourselves or our teams.
I remember being an international student at an American business school and receiving feedback from a classmate that I came across as stern and unapproachable. I did notice a tendency in California for people to smile reflexively when passing each other in hallways, but this was someone I respected and her feedback made me stop and reflect. It was true I hadn’t made many friends there. Looking back, I realize that oftentimes - be it in class or walking the hallways- I wasn't present. I was lost in thought, worrying about how I’d pay the expensive tuition, what was happening with my family back home, the little time I had to get classwork done, or the bureaucracies of being on a visa, etc. I was consumed by my survival. And, so bent on not being a burden to anyone that asking for help rarely crossed my mind. This self-involvement not only showed up on my face, but it was also an obstacle to connection.
A similar dynamic can play out in challenging leadership situations. Especially if you are used to being successful, and are afraid of failing or feeling fragile. There’s an urge to preserve, which shows up as a contraction in the body and a narrowing of focus. As a result, we miss nuanced information and opportunities for connection and creativity.
From Protecting to Responding
As per usual, this is the place in the article where I give you a list of tips to shift from self-involvement to self-awareness. Because there should always be hope, right? After all, what kind of leadership blog post exposes a problem without giving you a solution?
But before I do, here is my humble experience: it’s a lifelong journey. There is no “solution”. I started working “on myself” in earnest in 2007, and 17+ years into it, let me tell you: I am still self-involved. I am less self-involved, and can recover more quickly before I get tied up in my stuff. But the truth is, when it hits me, it hits me hard. Harder now, in fact, than when I was blissfully 100% self-involved.
That said. I offer these ideas as threads to pull, practices which I have tried myself and helped me moved the needle:
Sense your body: Always a way to interrupt our self-involvement. Noticing physical sensations without trying to change them. Is your jaw tight? Shoulders tense? Just observe. No trying to figure out what it all means. Observing will automatically bring you to the here and now.
Talk with the “protector”: When you feel defensive or reactive, ask yourself "What am I trying to protect right now?". Is there a part of you that is scared? Have a conversation with it, with kindness, not to convince that part of anything, but to understand. The more you understand its goals, the more authentic your response can be.
Notice your surroundings: Bring your attention to where you are. Sense the walls in the room, observe the furniture, the clothing people are wearing. This helps to interrupt the unhelpful thought pattern. Or, use everyday habits to build your presence muscle. For example, I have a post-it on my kitchen door that asks “What else is here?”. Every time I go to the kitchen, I practice including other layers of awareness- inner and outer- beyond the thought du jour.
These are three ways to help you get back to your senses. From there, a more self-aware response is possible. But how does it work in practice?
How to Stop the Vulcano from Erupting
Say I’m working with a new colleague. We don’t know each other well, but today we have to visit a client together. At some point, my colleague does something in front of the client that surprises or irritates me. I feel the energy swell inside and I’m taken over by my inner chatter (“What are they doing?!”, etc, etc).
Has this ever happened to you? What would you do in this situation?
In my earlier days, it was impossible not to react. It felt like a vulcano that simply had to erupt. I’d be quick to interrupt my colleague to make sure things got back on track, for example.
Or, I’d check out of the conversation and give up. Or, even better, just ignore or push down the anger and pretend it’s not happening. Lots of people use this approach. The problem is, we get in the habit of numbing our emotions and body sensations, which means we become less and less aware over time. And that means, we miss out on the precious data that the anger points to. This is the key: our emotions bring information about what’s really going on, inside and out, beyond the words and the social conventions.
Let’s go back to my social dance class, where I was irritated with my feedback-giving dance partners. Their feedback threatened my identity as a good dancer, so they became the bad guys. Beyond that, though, my irritation illuminated a deeper desire. I wish that I could speak up as freely as they do, whereas I often stop myself out of politeness or fear of conflict. With this deeper truth, I could respond beyond complaining or indignation, by speaking up myself. By shifting from self-involvement to self-awareness, I could change the culture in the class, to one where women are equal learning partners.
With enough practice, you develop the presence of mind and energy to catch the early signs of self-involvement and decide to stay engaged in the midst of feeling angry, fearful, frustrated, etc. Experiencing your difficult emotions or thoughts without being taken hostage by them.
Being able to do this consistently took me years of practice, and - as you can see from my recent social dance class example- I’m still learning.
The good news is, life and work are filled with opportunities to practice in low-stakes situations. Use them!
When we lead from self-awareness rather than self-involvement, we become available for connection. We can notice and spark change that is needed around us. Life becomes lighter.
Remember, the goal isn't to never feel self-involved – that's normal and human. The goal is to notice when it's happening and choose a different way of being present.
In what ways are you self-involved right now, caught up in your own concerns and goals? What might be possible for you if you adopted one of the practices above?
Do it right now. Take a moment to widen the aperture, notice what's happening in yourself and around you. This moment of awareness might make all the difference in how you show up at your next interaction.
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