One of my daughters woke up one morning very angry. Now, as a parent, I’ve learned to recognize the early warning signs of the “it’s your fault that I have so many brothers and sisters” kind of day, but this? This was different. It seemed entirely out of character and didn’t match the kind of day we were having—one of those beautiful spring mornings after a gentle rain, with just the right amount of wind to fill the air with the scent of jasmine, gardenias, and wildflowers.
Being an assertive child and operating under the assumption that most of her discomfort was either caused by me or could be fixed by me, she stormed up to me and declared, “I am really angry with gravity. It’s because of gravity that I can’t fly…” Then, a single tear dropped from her left eye as if on cue.
After a theatrical pause, she straightened herself up, placed her hands on her hips, and, looking uncomfortably like her mother, waited for me to either explain or, more likely, fix the problem.
At that moment, I had an epiphany: This was my fault.
We had been outside when she asked me, “Daddy, why can’t I fly like the birds?” Being the ever-helpful problem solver, an empirical thinker (when it’s convenient), and a slightly out-of-the-closet nerd (basically an idiot), I launched into a long-winded explanation about gravity and how certain animals were born aerodynamically designed for flight (she thought aerodynamic meant to shoot them down).
I concluded with an objective observation: They were born to fly—and she wasn’t.
Little did I know she was upset for three days, waking up every morning and gradually becoming more and more resentful towards gravity for not allowing her to fly. This culminated in her standing in front of me with tears, waiting for an explanation that, if unsatisfactory, would lead her to call social services or, worse, grow up and write a book about her disappointing father.
With lots of apologizing, a paper airplane, and sharing how gravity works, its benefits, and how to work with, not against it…We got through the trauma.
This event turned out to be strangely synchronistic because I was about to deliver a workshop on change to a corporate team. The company was in the middle of “Smartsizing,” one of those dreadful corporate buzzwords that means “firing a lot of people.” Naturally, the employees were filled with fear and resentment. Change was happening—unexpected change, unwanted change—and the atmosphere was thick with resistance.
That’s when it hit me: gravity is a lot like change—especially when it’s unwanted and not initiated by you.
Let’s look at these two inevitable forces and see if we can’t draw some meaningful parallels and learn how to manage them. I’ve come up with 9.
1. What are you angry with?
- Although we think we are angry with change, what we’re furious at is the loss of control.
- My daughter was not angry with gravity, but her inability to fly, and gravity was the scapegoat.
2. Change is inevitable
- Change is an inevitable part of life that we cannot control or avoid.
- Gravity is an unchangeable force that we cannot control or avoid.
3. Understanding the reason
- There are reasons for all change; our job is to understand the reasons.
- Gravity keeps things grounded; understanding that helps us to work with gravity.
4. Preventing or Promoting
- Change, though uncomfortable, fosters stability and growth.
- Gravity doesn’t prevent flight; it promotes, brings, and gives stability and balance.
5. Radical Acceptance
- Managing change involves accepting (working with) its inevitability and adjusting your approach and mindset.
- Flight requires understanding and working with gravity, not against it.
6. Growth Opportunities
- To thrive during change, we must build new skills, embrace new knowledge, and adapt.
- To fly, my daughter must learn about aerodynamic forces and techniques.
7. Overcoming Resistance
- To grow from change, we must accept its momentum and use it to succeed.
- To achieve flight, one must overcome drag (resistance) and push forward to reach a speed where lift can be generated.
8. Patience
- Personal and professional growth through change happens gradually and requires patience.
- Learning to fly is a gradual process of learning how to use gravity for lift-off.
9. Practice, not Perfection
- Adapting to change takes practice, resiliency, and embracing uncertainty.
- Flying takes practice, adapting, and understanding limitations.
The key lesson I learned is that being angry at gravity prevented my daughter from learning the lessons and understanding the power, beauty, and gift that gravity truly is. I think it’s essential that we view change in the same way. Anger with gravity—I mean change—requires a lot of energy, and fighting against an inevitability drains your soul.
When you redirect that energy towards embracing change, you will soon recognize the learning, the collateral beauty, and the opportunities that we might not have necessarily noticed if it weren’t for the change.
These are the ideas I would love to discuss with you in our next Wednesday talk.
