Where meditation meets professional development
I absolutely one hundred percent love annual review processes.
Really, I do. When done well, they allow for spacious juicy conversations about the past year, and allow colleagues to connect and share about dreams and aspirations.
In fact, I wish all relationships had an annual review time. How do you feel our friendship/marriage/situationship is going? Is there something I routinely do that prevents you from being your true self? Did I hurt you in any way? Are there boundaries we can set, or practices we can nurture that would help us, or you?
I realize some spiritual traditions have built entire rituals around regular resets— see Yum Kippur and Ramadan, for example. But I also know that most of us don’t use any of these spaces well, whether professionally or spiritually, because we are afraid to be vulnerable. Paradoxically, it is only through being vulnerable that we are present enough to know what we need. It is only through being vulnerable, that we can truly see others and be seen ourselves.
So what does this vulnerability look like? Though it is never straightforward, it is easier to imagine in a close personal relationship: I can be vulnerable with my spouse, my child, my friends. Or at the very least, I can try, fail, and try again. But what would it look like in a professional setting?
In my experience, vulnerability starts with knowing ourselves better: recognizing triggers and patterns, knowing where our emotions reside, understanding our deepest values, and how they relate to what we feel. Even in a professional setting, knowing how I feel (and why) allows me to articulate my capacity and needs more clearly. It will give me information that can help explain my reactions to other — because even when my emotional reactions are manifestly outsized, they are what they are. Suppressing emotions is never the answer.
This is where meditation meets professional development. It’s all yoga. It’s all a human collective trying to be better, together, through being better, alone.