Wisdom in Practice

On Tuesday night, I was sitting in my usual spot in the alto section, sheet music in hand, surrounded by familiar voices.

We were working through a passage where the altos start on a note that never feels quite natural to my ear. The sopranos had just floated above us, the tenors were holding a warm middle line, and then it was our turn to enter on this odd, in‑between pitch. I could hear the note on the piano; I could see it on the page. But when I opened my mouth, my voice drifted toward the more comfortable harmony I anticipated rather than the note that was actually written. I wasn’t alone; others sang the wrong note, too.

Our director noticed our error. “Altos only, please,” he said. No safety net of other parts, nowhere to hide inside the harmony. We tried again, listening harder, adjusting incrementally, until the chord finally locked in and our director affirmed, “Yes, that’s it.”

I’ve been thinking about how often leadership feels like that alto entry. Your role is to bring in a true but unfamiliar note while everyone around you is singing what’s comfortable. The work is to sing the note that completes the chord, hold it long enough for others to recognize it, and trust that they can and will match your pitch. Sometimes that “odd note” is a boundary you need to set, a question you need to ask, or a different pace you need to hold when everyone else is rushing ahead.

If you’ve ever been the person in the room saying, “I don’t think we’re naming the real issue yet,” or “I know this is the way we’ve always done it, but…,” you know how exposed that first alto note can feel. It’s easier to harmonize with what’s familiar, to sing the line that already has momentum than to offer the note that sounds off until the rest of the chord moves around it. And yet, without that note, the song isn’t what it’s meant to be.

Sometimes the work of leadership is simply this: to hear the note that’s needed, to offer it as steadily as you can, and to keep listening while the rest of the room adjusts.

For your practice
In your leadership this week, I encourage you to notice where you’re tempted to “make up notes” or blend into someone else’s part instead of offering your own. You might jot down one moment each day when you feel that pull, and one moment when you choose the true but unfamiliar note instead.

A question to carry
Where are you being invited to hold your “right but unfamiliar” note a few beats longer, even when the room is tuned to something else?