Our son is walking an agonizing road, and we abandoned our rally cry quite some time ago.
Survival cannot depend upon a slogan, after all.
Yes, a rally cry can be a useful device for leading in a difficult time…but only for a time. Eventually, a rally cry runs flat. Because no matter how poignant or powerful, a rally cry is just words. Words matter, surely, but action carries the day in times of crisis.
So we replaced rally cry, a scheme, with this strategy:
Rally.
Cry.
On a regular basis — sometimes daily — we rally, we cry. We do this for our son, we do this with our son. In doing so, we’re reminded of our frail humanity, which is key to survival. In doing so, we’re reconnected to a stalwart divinity, which is key to survival.
At quick glance, this rally/cry approach may seem to be like jumping aboard an emotional spin-cycle…and simply riding along with the wherever-whenever-we-might-go nature of fleeting feelings.
But rally/cry is more like driving an emotional stake in the ground…and staying available, able to enter into pain. One’s own pain, yes, but more importantly, another’s pain.
Said differently, the rally/cry approach is an intentional gathering and releasing of mental energy in order to survive a grueling experience.
Now, let’s define our terms.
To rally is to rise up in will, whether with exuberance or with solemn resolve. To rally is to harness hope within oneself and then, importantly, to share that hope with others. Resultant from rallying, we can collectively get up off the mat to fight — again.
To cry is to let go of emotion, often, but not always, through tears. To cry is to expel grief from within oneself and then, more importantly, to help others to expel their grief. Resultant from crying, we can collectively start to heal — again.
Note that rally/cry is not akin to the recurrent cresting and troughing of a wave. That is, there is not always — or even, predictably — a time to rally, followed by a time to cry, followed by a time to rally, followed by a time to cry…and so on. Real life, real pain is not neatly packaged and dutifully sequential, we know. Some days (and sometimes for many days in a row), the only appropriate action is to cry. And some days (and sometimes for many days in a row), the only appropriate action is to rally.
The point, leaders, is that those you lead must be convinced that you are equipped and available to do both: rally, cry. You must demonstrate strength of will sufficient to gather, to rally. You must demonstrate sincerity of emotion sufficient to release, to cry.
And you must have depth of soul in, through all of this. For a shallow soul not only is limited in its own ability to gather and to release but also neuters such abilities within others. So, if you don’t truly know and don’t sacrificially love those within your leadership sphere, don’t employ rally/cry — as doing so will come across as gimmicky, or worse.
Further, understand that rally/cry takes tremendous courage. You will fail — you need to know that in advance and still choose to rally, to cry unrelentingly. Pain will have its way along the journey; sometimes you will be disappointed when you gather and sometimes you will be overcome when you release.
But commit to pressing on…by pressing in. The best way to influence others’ victories is to become intimate with their struggles.
Rally. Decide to hope. For and with those you lead.
Cry. Decide to hurt. For and with those you lead.
All the while remembering that the elimination of pain is impossible. But then, survival is not about eliminating pain but rather about enduring it.
Rally. Cry. was originally published in Horizon Performance on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
