We often include a guided meditation in our workshops. One of our favorites has to do with labels. We ask people to imagine themselves covered with labels — some self-assigned, some bestowed by others — and read what they say: mother, student, husband, curious, smart, silly, rebel and so on.

Imagine the labels peeling from your body, we tell them. Watch them drifting into space and disappear. The labels no longer obscure you pure essence — a white light, pulsing with energy. Some call it the divine spark. We call it boundless potential.

We conclude this meditation with the word “Namaste.”

Namaste has worked its way into the vernacular as the popularity of yoga has grown. Nama means bow, as means I, and te means you. The literal translation is "bow me you" or "I bow to you."

The essence of namaste is this: “The light in me recognizes and honors the light in you and the divine light that unites us all.”

This sounds esoteric, but it’s really pragmatic, even in the workplace. Imagine your relationship to your work and the people you work with by taking this concept seriously. What would change if people put “namaste” into practical action in service of customers and coworkers? Consider ways you could live this out.

Honoring the light in yourself. You are worthy of the time and attention required to develop your potential and attend to your physical, mental and spiritual needs.

Commit to a day of noticing your internal conversations. Jot notes as you can, and/or journal about it at the end of the day, to see what you discover. Do you need to change the conversation with yourself? Why? To what?

List three to five core values that you want to be known for at work. Where did they come from? Why are they important? How do they influence your actions? What obstacles get in the way of you living them out?

Honoring the light in others. People are not their labels, and they make decisions based on what makes sense to them. You honor them by recognizing them for the complex people they are, rather than as objects you can manipulate to get what you want. Authentic relationships are built on telling the truth with goodwill, being open to the truths of others, and recognizing that many things can be true at the same time.

Commit to a day of noticing your interactions at work. Do you stay silent when it would have served others or the business to speak up? How often do you respond to others’ truth with a “That’s not true,” or “Yes, but...”? When you disagree with someone, what keeps you from making every effort to see it from their point of view?

Consider a practice of generosity. What changes when you see life from the perspective of abundance rather than scarcity. How would your experience change if you realized that there are enough resources, time, and credit to go around? Take inventory of what you have and create a gratitude list. What do you notice?

Honoring the divine light that unites us all. We are all connected. Surrendering your egocentric desires in order to contribute to the good of the whole is a way of acknowledging that. The best way to serve each other and customers is by understanding and strengthening the interdependencies required to further the work.

What does “surrender” means to you? What feelings does the word evoke? Are they positive or negative? How does your perspective affect your decisions and actions?

What are you attached to at work? People? Things? Outcomes? List the ways you are attached. How would cultivating a healthy detachment alter the ways you see yourself, others, and your work?

Beliefs and values influence the way we work. How do your beliefs help or hinder you? Hoping that the work environment or culture will change on its own will most likely create a cycle of frustration and disappointment. Recognizing and honoring your light and that of others can help you see that you have everything you need to make changes.

Namaste.

I have learned many lessons about leadership over the years, but among the most powerful came while teaching at an inner-city high school in Flint, Michigan. In mid-year, I took a job teaching woodshop. The previous instructor had found himself locked in a storage cage by his 2^nd period class. He got out during 4^th period, and immediately quit.

In the 1970s, the boys who were enrolled in woodshop often weren’t cutting it in regular classrooms. The logic of putting disruptive — and sometimes aggressive — students in a classroom with sharp instruments and dangerous power machines escaped me. But somebody had to do it, and I needed the job.

While I wasn’t thinking about leadership at the time, the lessons I learned in that classroom are highly relevant for business leaders today. Going in, I decided to pay attention to four specific things.

First, I had to decide who I was going to “see” in my woodshop classroom. How I saw these boys, and what I believed they were capable of, would frame everything we did together. I had a choice: To see them as troublemakers, losers and rejects — or to see them as young adults trying to make sense of life, just like I was.

Second, I couldn’t make this class a success on my own — the students had to be a part of putting things back in order. It was important that they be fully engaged. We first paid attention to the space. We collaborated on how we would clean up the classroom, figured out where we stood on supplies, and fixed up the tools. Throughout this process, we were not only taking a classroom inventory, we were assessing each other.

Third, we decided together what it was going to mean to be a member of the woodshop class. We could spend a semester with me exerting control and them resisting being controlled, or we could create something meaningful. Together, we had to determine our shared future. We spent some time talking about things such as:

·   What does it mean to be a part of this class?

·   What expectations do you have of me? And me of you?

·   How should we treat each other when problems crop up or things get testy?

·   What is it that we want to do here together?

And finally, I wanted them to quickly begin a creative project using wood. The act of creation gave them a sense of ownership and meaning.

By the end of the semester, we had created a “woodshop” where all of our heads, hearts and hands were honored and engaged.

Although I no longer teach in a high school classroom, the four lessons continue to be relevant. In large organizations where we work, they come into play again and again. Leaders need to become aware of who they “see” at work. They must develop a clear understanding of what it means to be a member of the enterprise. Engagement and collaboration forges a sense of ownership and excitement.

And that sets the stage for the magical act of creation.