In like a lion. Out like a lamb.
Growing up, I heard this phrase in school every March.
It was an old proverb about the change in seasons over the course of the month. A saying that illustrated the transition from winter’s frigid roar to the relative calm of spring.
It’s hard to take this proverb at face value. After all, different regions of North America experience the shifting seasons in different ways.
In California and Florida, winter fades away quietly. Indeed, the weather is consistently divine in both places throughout the month of March.
In Texas and Oklahoma, the opposite is true. The relative serenity of a southern winter devolves into the destructive chaos of severe storm season — where green skies, tornadoes and giant hailstones lurk.
Even in the northeast, where I grew up, the adage didn’t exactly go to plan. The late stages of March would approach, bitter and blustery, and I would wonder where this lamb was that we were promised.
But while this talk of lions and lambs might be stylized, it still has some substance.
For it’s not just about the weather. It’s also about us.
Words on a page are not always equal.
Sure, most have the same size, color and font. But some of them are louder than others.
And perhaps the most resonant word out there is Roar.
When we see those four letters in sequence, our pulse quickens. Our adrenaline starts pumping. And our horizons expand.
We don’t feel this way because we are all jungle cat aficionados.
No, we feel this way because that one simple word reflects what’s expected of us.
From our earliest days, we are encouraged to be lions. To be hungry. To be courageous. And to make our voice heard.
We are expected to lead. To boldly break new ground while furthering our ideals.
These demands can indeed become reality. There are definitely times when we charge ahead as if we are the kings of the Serengeti, hot on the trail of a herd of antelope. And there are certainly moments where we take bold steps onto unproven ground.
But those moments are fleeting.
Most of the time, we are far more likely to appear as sheep. We are more apt to stay with the pack. To choose the security of routine over the risk of possibility.
This fate befalls just about all of us at some point, no matter how ambitious we were at the outset of our journey. Our devolution is close to inevitable.
In like a lion. Out like a lamb.
What’s driving this phenomenon? What’s the magnetic force repelling us from regal lions to feeble sheep?
The answer isn’t clear-cut. But I believe much of it can be found within the structure of our society.
For those of us in the westernized world are trapped by the friction that lies between opposing realities.
On one hand, there is the social reality. Here, we are expected to be courteous and communal.
On the other hand, there is the economic reality. Here we are asked to be cutthroat and self-serving.
Our economic reality, in particular, demands a degree of independence. After all, we can’t be go-getters unless we have the liberty to do the going out and the getting.
But there is a limit to just how free we are.
Ultimately, the magnetic force of our social reality will rein us in. Like one of those retractable dog leashes, the tether of public perception will keep us from straying too far.
This might seem disheartening. But it shouldn’t be all that surprising.
By their very nature, social conventions are filled with rigidity and inertia. Change is met with skepticism, and revolution is met with resistance.
Tradition holds court. Even if it keeps flawed perspectives in place for generations.
We can scoff at this shortsightedness. But we’d be foolish to ignore its power.
For in a capitalist society, it is our social community that holds the purse strings. Our economic destiny depends on its support.
We must kowtow to communal influence. Otherwise, we might end up cast out of society, left destitute and starving.
There’s no way we can truly be lions in this world.
In a moment of crisis, where will you run?
It’s a difficult question. An unpleasant one, even. But the answer can be telling.
If we were to follow the edicts impressed upon us, we would charge ahead. We would run toward the danger. Like lions, we would boldly lead.
But instead, we tend to do the opposite. Like sheep, we tuck our tails and retreat.
There are sensible reasons for this, of course. Protection and self-preservation are chief among them.
But on a wide scale, the results of our apprehension can be catastrophic. Our society becomes a rudderless ship, devoid of the bold leadership needed to propel it through tumult.
These collective failings cut deep. And they can resonate for the long-term.
How can we expect to meet the challenges of tomorrow if the crises of today paralyze us into inaction? How can we find a way forward if we keep backtracking at the first sign of trouble?
We must adapt our ways if we hope to rise to the moment.
It’s time to redefine success.
The traditional measure — the ability to provide for one’s family — is too conservative. While this measure is important, it’s table stakes.
We can think so much bigger. And we must.
The challenges of the world today and tomorrow call for bravery. They call for determination. And they call for leadership.
We don’t have to tout radical ideas or accelerated timelines for disruptive changes to take on these challenges. In fact, we’re more likely to find success by being incremental.
But we do need to get started.
We must have the license to embrace the bold. We must be allowed to be lions.
So, let’s loosen our vice grip on the status quo. Let’s be accepting of the potential of a new normal. Let’s exude courage and strength, even in the face of uncertainty.
In with the lion. Out with the lamb.