Leadership Wisdom From The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari: The 8 Rituals of Visionary Leaders (28 page)

I quickly looked up to ask him what these words meant, but he had vanished. The only soul that remained in the playground was now standing silently in front of me. It was a gentle little boy. He just looked at me and smiled.

Chapter 11 Knowledge Summary • Julian’s Wisdom in a Nutshell

The Ritual
The Essence	The Ritual of Creativity and Innovation
The Wisdom	• Every human being is creative. The task of the visionary leader is to create a workplace that liberates this natural endowment.
• Shed the shackles of outdated ways of thinking and discover smarter ways of doing what you do
• Allow people to take risks and fail freely
The Practices	• Celebrate spontaneity and reward original thinking
• Make your workplace fun. Create a playground of ideas.
• The Weekly Idea Quota
• Creative Questioning
Quotable Quote	Nourish your imagination and flex your mind. Let your natural creativity out of the box. Dare to dream bigger dreams and envision a higher future. Though you might see what every other leader in the business world sees, start to think what no one else thinks. Never forget that deep within the body of every visionary leader lives the spirit of a little child, full of excitement and wonder.

The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari

Leo C. Rosten

It was just before midnight when I drove up the long winding road that led to the observatory. Located out in the country, it usually sat empty except for the two astronomers who used it as their research base. I quickly parked my car and rushed up the stairs that would lead me into the main hall where Julian had instructed me to meet him promptly. The night was a spectacular one, with not a cloud in the sky. Even to the naked eye, the heavens were alight with the moon and the stars. I knew Julian would be pleased.

“Hi, Peter,” Julian mumbled as he offered me a quick welcome before returning his concentration to the sights he had been
observing through the massive telescope. “Glad that you could make it.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for anything, my friend. Is there something in particular that we are looking for tonight?”

“Oh, yes. Tonight will be a very special evening. That I can promise you,” he replied, not taking his eyes away from the telescope.

“You’ll be happy to hear that, with the last piece of the puzzle you gave me, I finally got the whole thing together.” “And what did you discover?”

“Well, every time you gave me a new piece with one of the eight rituals carved into it, I could also detect some form of design on it. But I was never able to quite figure out what it was. As the pieces came together, I could see it was turning into a symbol of some sort, but without the last piece, I still couldn’t tell what it was.”

“And now do you know?”

“It’s a star.”

“Not just a star, my friend. It’s
the
star.” “I’m not sure that I follow you, Julian.” “Every star in the moonlit sky is bright. But one star in particular is brilliant.”

“Which one’s that?”

“It is the North Star, the most luminescent of them all.”

Suddenly Julian let out a yell. “There it is! It’s time! Let’s go,” he cried, leading me by the arm as he ran out of the building. We raced down the steps and along a winding path that led us into a vast field. Then we stopped and just stood there in silence.

“It’s happening just like the sages promised it would,” remarked Julian with delight.

“What’s happening?” I asked, not observing anything out of the ordinary.

“This,” he said, as he pointed up to a star that was beginning to flicker against the rich black coat of darkness that had dominated the evening sky. Growing brighter and brighter, its light started to flood the dark summer sky. Soon the star became so bright that I had to raise my hand in an effort to shield my eyes. It was a little like what had happened the night of the basketball game but a hundred times more intense. Before long, the entire sky was filled with light and it appeared as if it was the middle of the day, even though the dial on my watch indicated that it was a quarter past midnight. It was an unbelievable sight.

Looking over at Julian, I saw that he was beaming, his face full of joy and excitement. A radiant smile appeared on his youthful face and his hands were clasped together in the traditional way that the citizens of India greeted those they respected.

“Savor what you are seeing, Peter. The world won’t see anything like this for another thousand years. The sages, in their infinite wisdom, had known this astronomical event would take place on this very night at this very time. I’m sure they must be experiencing it now, high up in their part of the world, just as we are witnessing it now in ours. I hope they’re as moved by it as I am. I sure do miss them.”

“What’s this all about?” I asked, quickly looking back up at the sky before I lost another second.

“This, my friend, is nature’s way of bringing in the dawn of a new era, a new age of leadership and life. There has been so much turmoil and turbulence in the world that many good people are giving up hope. They are losing faith in their power to make a difference. They are giving in to the demands of uncertainty and
negativity, rather than transcending them and moving on to higher places of achievement, contribution and success. Many people in our society are even giving up on the gift of living. The natural phenomenon we’re witnessing will act as a torchlight to remind leaders of their obligation to be visionaries. It will serve as their wake-up call to be the forces of good they are meant to be, illuminating their organizations just as the North Star has illuminated the sky on this very special night. Be a light, Peter. Be the one people look up to for guidance and direction. Let the ideal you aspire to burn brightly within you, blazing a path for all to see. This is your ultimate purpose in leadership — and in life.”

Just as Julian had delivered this profound piece of wisdom, the night returned to its normal condition. We sat on the grass, Julian’s robe growing creased and wrinkled. Then he continued, “One of the most timeless of all of the leadership laws is this one:
The Purpose of Life Is a Life of Purpose.”

“Powerful statement.”

“The greatest irony of leadership is that the more you give, the more you get. And when all is said and done, the highest and most enduring gift that you will ever be able to give is the gift of what you leave behind. Your legacy to the generations that follow will be how much value you have added to your organization and how many lives you have improved. As the great humanitarian Albert Schweitzer observed, There is no higher religion than human service. To work for the common good is the greatest creed.’ Or perhaps even more to the point, let me use the words one father offered to his son while he lay on his deathbed, ‘Be ashamed to die until you have scored a victory for mankind.’”

“So you’re saying that visionary leaders, in practicing Ritual 8, link what they do with who they will serve.”

“Nicely put, Peter. And in constantly focusing on leaving a rich footprint of service and contribution behind them when they depart,
such leaders link leadership to legacy.
In doing so, they fulfill their calling. They fulfill their duty to liberate the fullness of their personal gifts for a worthy cause. All the great leaders who have gone before us have aspired to reach this pinnacle, whether they were leaders in business, the sciences or even the arts. Just before his death, George Bernard Shaw was asked what he would do if he could live his life again. Though he had already achieved more in his lifetime than most of us could only dream of, he replied humbly, ‘I would want to be the person I could have been but was not.’”

“Wise words,” I replied.

“They are. They make me think of a short story penned by Leo Tolstoy called ‘The Death of Ivan Ilych.’ Ever read it?”

“No, Julian. To be honest I’ve never read any of Tolstoy’s works. I guess I’ve never got around to it.”

“There’s such wisdom in the great books of literature and yet most people seem to be too busy to discover it. And so they continue to make mistakes both in their leadership and in their lives, mistakes that could so easily have been prevented had they taken a few hours out of their weeks to read deeply. In this particular story, Tolstoy wrote about Ivan Ilych, a vain, highly materialistic social climber who was more concerned about appearing successful than doing right. As a young man, he married, not because he loved and cherished his wife, but because high society approved of the match. He then had a number of kids, not because he wanted to have children but because that was what was expected of him. Rather than spending time with his family and building a rich home life, he devoted almost all his time to his work, becoming obsessed with his public persona as a top-level government lawyer.

“Soon, in an effort to keep up appearances, he began to live beyond his means, and eventually faced enormous financial hardship. This led to deep unhappiness and despair. As luck would have it, just when things were at their worst, he was offered a more prestigious and much higher-paying position as a judge. With his newfound good fortune, he bought the house of his dreams. He felt very proud of it and began to devote much of his time to furnishing the home with expensive antiques and fashionable furniture. The house had to be perfect, so all those around him would be suitably impressed.

“One day, when he was climbing a stepladder to show an upholsterer how he wanted a set of draperies hung, he fell and hurt his side. After the fall, he felt different and grew ill-tempered, often lashing out at his wife for the smallest transgression. A visit to a doctor revealed that he was seriously ill and various treatments were prescribed. But Ivan Ilych’s condition only worsened. Within months, the once vital and jovial man appeared to be dying, his eyes lacking any expression of life and his body growing terribly weak. In his quiet agony, Ivan Ilych began to reflect on his life. First he thought about his childhood, then about his days as a striving adult and finally he contemplated the sad state he found himself in. Suddenly a question flooded his consciousness. A question that penetrated the deepest core of his being.”

“What was it?”

“He asked himself this:
‘What if my whole life has really been wrong?’
You see, Peter, for the first time in his life, he realized that all his jockeying for social position, all the energy he spent trying to look good and to be seen with the right people at the right events, was really not important. This dying man realized that life is a gift. And his could have been so much more than he had made of it. He could have contributed immensely and served greatly. He
could have risked, dared and dreamed. He could have been the person he should have been. Instead, he squandered his days on frivolous matters of little consequence, matters that did nothing to improve the world around him. With that realization, his physical pain grew even worse and his mental torment became unbearable. He began to scream, and continued to do so for three full days.

“Then just two hours before his death,” continued Julian, “he said to himself, ‘Yes, it was all not the right thing.’ He then grew silent and wondered, ‘But what
is
the right thing?’ Just then his young son, a schoolboy who had been deeply saddened by his father’s illness, crept softly into the room and stood beside his bed. His father put a frail hand on the boy’s head as the child began to cry. At that moment, a timeless truth was revealed to Ivan Ilych, one that most people never discover. He realized that though he had not lived his life as he should have lived,
it was still not too late to rectify his failure.
He realized that his duty was to serve all those around him and to enrich their lives in any way possible. He understood that the purpose of life was to make a difference through one’s presence. If even one life was left a little better, it would have been worth living. So as his final act, he requested that his son leave the room so he would not have to endure any more of his father’s suffering. He then closed his eyes and died.”

I was deeply moved by this story. The power of the message Julian had just shared was not lost on me. I looked up at the sky, breathing in the fresh air and staring at nature’s abundance. I reflected on all the time that had passed in my life and on all the things I had missed. I thought about the many men and women who counted on me and considered the duty I owed to them. I thought about the enormous potential of our company and regretted all
the opportunities we had neglected. My thoughts then turned to my family. A lump came to my throat when I considered all of those special times I had missed with my two young sons. Little-league baseball games, Christmas concerts, sun-filled afternoons laughing in the park were all missed because I had not had the courage to spend my life well. I thought of my youngest son whose only request of me was to play and laugh a little more with him. I thought about his elder brother whom I had not spent even one quiet evening with in many months. I thought about Samantha and all the romantic getaways that I had promised we would go on, but never did. I really had missed out on living the life I was meant to live.