This past Monday, Leigh Johnson hosted our Lead Always Forum around a particularly searching topic. One that most of us know we need to face at some point, but would often prefer to keep holding onto, perhaps because we fear what may happen when we finally let go.
The topic was letting go.
Leigh has a way of taking a subject that could easily remain on the surface and guiding us towards the meaning beneath it. This was not a conversation about simply moving on or getting over something. It was an invitation to become curious about what we are carrying, why we are carrying it, and what might become possible if we loosened our grip.
We were looking beyond the obvious acts of release to the quieter things we carry, often without realising how tightly we are gripping them.
An old disappointment. A decision we still question. The need to be right. The belief that everything depends on us. The pressure to get it perfect. An identity we are no longer certain we want to inhabit.
And beneath all of it sat one question:
What are you still holding onto, too tightly?
Why We Hold On
Letting go is spoken about so casually that we can underestimate what it asks of us.
We tell people to move on, surrender, release it or stop worrying. As though the mind can simply be instructed to abandon something it may have been protecting for years.
Leigh reminded us that our brains are designed to seek certainty. Familiar patterns, even unhelpful ones, can feel safer than the unknown. They require less energy and offer a sense of predictability.
“Every time we respond in the same way, we are strengthening a familiar neural pathway. And for however old you are, that’s how long we’ve been doing it.”
Letting go is therefore not simply a decision to think differently. We first have to notice the pattern, then recognise when we are reinforcing it. Only then can we begin to practise another response.
We can understand our behaviour and still repeat it, especially when pressure rises.
Change begins when awareness is followed by a different choice, and that choice is practised often enough to become available when it matters.
Letting Go Does Not Mean Giving Up
One of the most meaningful parts of the session was the distinction Leigh drew between commitment and attachment.
Letting go does not necessarily mean walking away. It does not mean something no longer matters, nor does it mean becoming careless or indifferent. Sometimes what needs to be released is not the commitment, but our attachment to how that commitment must be fulfilled.
“Commitment keeps us connected to what matters. Attachment tells us that it must happen in a particular way.”
We may be committed to an organisation’s purpose but attached to the original strategy. We may be committed to developing people but attached to being the person with the answer. We may care deeply for others while believing we must carry every need ourselves.
Attachment says it has to happen this way, within this time, with this outcome, and often with me in control of it. Commitment allows us to stay connected to what matters while becoming more flexible about how we move towards it.
This matters now, as AI reshapes work and established ways of operating are questioned. Decisions made under one set of circumstances may no longer suit another.
Leadership asks us to remain steady in purpose without becoming rigid about the route. That may mean inviting contribution, revising a decision or releasing a way of working that no longer serves.
None of this is passive. It requires discernment, courage and a willingness to tolerate uncertainty.
The Body Often Knows Before We Do
Before we began writing, Leigh invited us to move out of our heads and into our bodies.
We were asked to notice where we were holding tension: the jaw, the hands, the shoulders, the chest, the stomach.
People quickly recognised the physical grip connected to what they were carrying. For some, holding on created a sense of protection, even while limiting them.
When the tension softened through breathing, something else began to emerge: openness.
Others noticed the pressure of perfectionism, fear and the effort of trying to remain in control.
Our bodies often carry the conversation our minds avoid. A tight jaw, clenched hand or tense shoulders may reveal anger, control or responsibility we have taken on without noticing.
The body does not always give us the answer, but it often shows us where the question is. When we learn to recognise the physical signs of holding on, we create a small but important space in which we can choose how to respond.
What the Pen Revealed
We then picked up our pens.
The invitation was not to produce polished writing. There was no need to fix the spelling, organise the thoughts or make the answers sound intelligent.
We simply wrote into four questions:
What am I currently holding onto?
What purpose has holding onto this been serving?
What am I afraid might happen if I let it go?
If I loosened my grip just a little, what new possibility might emerge?
There is something different about seeing a thought in your own handwriting. On the page, we can begin to look at it rather than only live from it.
The first answer is not always the deepest. If we keep the pen moving, something less rehearsed can find its way through.
That happened repeatedly in the room.
Some recognised that beneath not feeling good enough sat a fear of failure and a demand for perfection. Loosening their grip opened the possibility of trying more and carrying less pressure.
Others saw how strongly external expectations shaped how they believed they should feel and act, and began to imagine a life chosen more consciously for themselves.
Another person moved from fear into excitement while writing about new ways of working, using their gifts and stretching towards something new.
People named self-respect, confidence, time, freedom and the ability to remain true to themselves.
The things people were holding differed. The deeper desire was often similar: freedom, space, openness, time and possibility.
The conversations were not only about what people wanted to release, but what the holding had come to mean: safety, control, competence and belonging.
That is part of what Leigh brought so strongly into the room: the recognition that we cannot meaningfully let go of something until we understand the role it has been playing in our lives.
What Has Holding On Been Doing for You?
We often focus on what a pattern is costing us, but rarely ask how it has helped us. Yet we do not usually hold onto something for no reason.
Perfectionism may have helped us feel competent. Control may have created safety. Defensiveness may once have protected us. An old identity may have preserved belonging.
Recognising this does not mean allowing these patterns to lead. It means understanding why they are there before deciding what needs to change.
Only then can we ask whether the protection they once offered has become a limitation. Whether what once kept us safe is now keeping us small. Whether a strength used too often has become a constraint.
Sometimes holding on becomes the very thing holding us back.
What We Hold Shapes How We Lead
Whether we like it or not, the things we hold onto do not remain private. They shape the way we lead ourselves, our lives, the people we love and care for, and the people who carry the work of our organisations.
A leader who cannot release control may struggle to trust. One who must be right may stop listening. One who carries everything alone may leave no room for others to step forward.
This is why letting go is not only personal work. It is leadership work.
We have a responsibility to become aware of what we are carrying and how it is shaping the way we show up. The people around us experience the consequences of what we refuse to examine.
Leaders do not need to be fully healed or free from fear. They do need to notice when an old pattern is in charge, pause, choose differently where they can, and model the courage to change.
When leaders create this space within themselves, they create more space around them too. Space for other people to think, contribute, question, experiment and grow.
In a world increasingly shaped by technology, speed and automation, our humanity is not becoming less important. It is becoming more valuable.
Our capacity to listen, reflect, care, admit uncertainty and remain connected to what matters cannot be automated away. The quality of how we relate may be among the most valuable things we bring to leadership now.
Perhaps You Do Not Need to Drop It Yet
The invitation from the session was not to force ourselves into a dramatic release.
Some things cannot be let go of in an hour. Some should not be. Grief, responsibility, disappointment and identity require more than a decision and a deep breath.
Perhaps the first step is simply to hold them more lightly.
Not: How do I get rid of this?
But: How might I relate to it differently?
Notice the tight jaw, clenched hand or returning tension. Pause before repeating the response you have always practised.
Breathe.
Pick up a pen and ask what you are protecting, what you fear might happen, and what could become possible if your grip softened by even five per cent.
“We’re not saying let go in that moment. We’re inviting you to remind your brain that you need to pivot in a different direction.”
The practice begins not by forcing release, but by noticing the moment we begin gripping again.
This is the inner work that allows us to lead ourselves, our people and our organisations more meaningfully. It develops the awareness, courage and flexibility required to respond to complexity without becoming controlled by it.
Leigh will soon host a similar workshop at an Inner Development Goals gathering in Switzerland, where the connection between inner capacities and wider organisational and social challenges sits at the heart of the work.
How we lead externally is shaped by what we are willing to notice, question and practise internally.
This is the work of the Lead Always Forum: not more information to store away, but a regular place to practise becoming the person who can live and lead it.
So perhaps the question to carry this week is not simply:
What do I need to let go of?
Perhaps it is:
What am I holding too tightly?
What has that grip been protecting?
And what might become possible if I allowed my hand to open, just a little?
