Is Vulnerability Weakness or Power?

      In a seminar for construction managers, the group engaged in a discussion about the importance of seeking input from work crews on job sites. Joe, a veteran senior project manager, asked, “Won’t my people think I’m weak if I ask for their ideas?” This led to a passionate discussion in which many of the younger participants shared their belief that when a boss asks for their contributions, they feel respected and included. As a result, they see this as a sign of strength.

      As the discussion continued, it also became clear that, although the more junior members of the group preferred it when their suggestions were acted upon, the most important point was that they felt acknowledged. As one assistant supervisor expressed it: “It is so much better when the line of communication is open, and I feel that I’m being listened to, that someone actually gives a shit.”

      In the old days of top-down hierarchy, Joe’s concern about asking and listening may have been well founded, but that world is fading. Now being open to the influence of others is a key to expanding your influence. American educator and author Stephen R. Covey (1932–2012) emphasizes: “You become vulnerable. It’s a paradox…because in order to have influence, you have to be influenced.”

      In her book Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead, Brené Brown argues that “vulnerability is the core, the heart, the center, of meaningful human experiences.” She refers to vulnerability as the birthplace of creativity, innovation, and change.

      CEO of the Charles Schwab Corporation, Walt Bettinger, adds that a leader’s real power comes from touching people’s hearts and that his growth as a leader demanded that he develop qualities that initially seemed “completely unnatural.” As he told the New York Times, “It requires transparency, authenticity, vulnerability.”

      Vulnerable is derived from the Latin vulnerare, “to wound.” Synonyms for vulnerable include weak, helpless, defenseless, sitting duck, and sucker. Bettinger and Brown aren’t suggesting that you be a sucker or a sitting duck. Vulnerability isn’t timidity or weakness. Rather, it’s an acknowledgment that we are sensitive, alive, and affected emotionally by our interactions and experiences.

      More helpful words to express this quality include:

      Accessible

      Available

      Approachable

      Open

      Present

      Receptive

      Responsive

      Unarmored

      When we are open and accessible, we are able to connect with ourselves, and we make it much easier for others to connect with us.

      I learned this lesson years ago, and it was a turning point in my life both personally and professionally. When I was thirty, my career was blossoming. I’d learned how to say wise words and make a positive impression on clients, but my life, especially in the area of intimate relationships, was reflecting the need for personal growth. Although I’d done considerable work on my mind and body, my emotional center hadn’t received the same amount of attention. This discrepancy seemed to be playing out in a series of less than fulfilling relationships. After rationalizing that I just hadn’t met the right person, I began to consider my own responsibility and asked: “How can I become the right person?”

      On the recommendation of a friend whose advice I heeded due to the searing accuracy of her critical feedback, I went to see a psychotherapist. This was a stretch since, having been raised by a therapist, going to therapy as a child, and studying psychology for years both academically and practically, I was skeptical, and probably arrogant, about the prospect of finding someone I’d respect.

      The minute I walked into Dr. Mort Herskowitz’s office, my skepticism and arrogance vanished. There was something about his penetrating gaze, purity of attention, and ease within himself that made it clear, as soon as he looked at me, that I couldn’t fool him, and I soon discovered that in his presence I couldn’t fool myself. He wasn’t interested in anything that wasn’t authentic. Mort was an uncompromising mirror of the self.

      An osteopathic physician and psychiatrist, Mort trained for nine years with Wilhelm Reich (1897–1957), the legendary pioneer of depth psychology. I had studied Reich’s theory of character armor, the idea that our stresses and traumas stay locked in our muscles and viscera, but believed I had sorted all that out through years of various mind and body practices. Wrong!

      I worked with Mort for the better part of the next twenty years, during which time he helped me surface and fully experience the anxiety, fear, shame, and anger that I didn’t even know I had. Where did all this originate? Perhaps it was inherited? Or maybe it came from unresolved childhood frustrations? I don’t know. The work with Mort didn’t focus on analyzing or understanding the causes; rather, it was about releasing the armor and experiencing more openness and aliveness. As difficult as this was — and it’s probably the most difficult work I’ve ever done — it was liberating.

      As I learned to breathe through the armoring, energy began moving through me in a new way, like water flowing through a fire hose when the kinks are removed. Although I experienced emotions that were far from pleasant, I invariably left Mort’s office with a sense of greater connectedness to myself, the people in my life, and all of creation. The leaves of the trees on his Philadelphia street corner always looked greener and the light outside always seemed brighter when I left his office. And when the dark and frightening feelings were brought to light, they subsided and were replaced by waves of joy, gratitude, and appreciation. I started seeing Mort in the days before cell phones and email, but on the corner opposite his office was a pay phone. After each session I’d find myself picking up that phone and calling someone in my life to say, “I love you.” This wasn’t the expression of a superficial sentimentality, but rather an experience, at the core