Let the Dog Decide: On Leading from Surrender

My wee house on the edge of Edinburgh is perfect, but I don’t live in the nicest of areas. The streets around tend to be littered with broken glass, plastic, empty vapes, and the kind of mess that reflects the harder edges of life.

And yet, that’s where I walk… because that’s where my dog wants to go.

A few years ago, I read something that stuck with me: for many of us, a dog is a part of our life. But for a dog, we are their whole life.

They don’t take breaks from us. They can’t go on their own solo adventures to clear their head, or decide when they want to binge on snacks. They wait. They follow. They watch your every move.

We are the centre of their world.

That thought humbled me. And it led me to try something simple: one walk a day where my dog gets to lead. I might choose the starting point, but from there, he decides the route, and the pace. Even if it’s longer than I wanted. Even if he takes us in circles (he does that). Even if it’s to the most boring part of town.

At first, it frustrated me. I wanted scenic. He wanted smelly. I wanted novelty. He wanted the same tree as yesterday.

But slowly, I began to enjoy it. Watching him walk in front with such certainty - good tail swagger, nose twitching, full of purpose. It became joyful. I saw a confident, happy dog.

And funnily enough, I felt more much more connected to him. All because I let go of control.

That’s when it hit me: this wasn’t just about a dog walk. It was a practice in something deeper - leadership, yes, but also humility, and connection.

I’m not a formal team leader, but this experience made me start to notice how often I try to hold the reins - in work, in relationships, even in how I try to support others. And how much shifts when I don’t.

One of the ideas I come back to in my work on the Impact Sweet Spot is this idea of ‘leading from surrender, not control’. It’s not a new concept. Others have explored it in many forms, but this language helps me remember what it feels like.

Leading from surrender doesn’t mean being passive or directionless. It means making space for others. Trusting them.

It means recognising that leadership isn’t about having all the answers, but about creating the conditions for people (or dogs!) to show up fully, with their instincts and insights intact.

Where might that be true for you? Are there places where you could afford to loosen your grip, even just a little - to allow more of that shared direction?

In teams, this might look like letting someone else’s idea lead, even when it’s not the one you’d have chosen. It might mean allowing space for the other person to guide the rhythm, the tone, the direction, even if it takes you out of your comfort zone.

But you might ask: how is this still leading?

Well, even if my dog wants to cross the road, it’s my responsibility to make sure we do it safely. I’m still present, still aware, still holding the container.

If a team member makes a mistake, your role as a leader is to help them learn from it, not say “well, that was your choice - it’s your fault”. It might also mean you don’t fix everything, or even comment on everything, that you think is not right.

You might even be willing to not be right. (Which, I’m learning, is another kind of leadership in itself.)

Maybe you’re thinking: yeah, yeah, I know this, but I just don’t have the patience.

A surrendered approach isn’t the same as apathy. It’s more like an active choice to stay present with your values, your passion, and your integrity. If you know that you are in the right place, any discomfort will become much easier to soothe. The trick is to connect and to really tune into that ‘right place’.

So this kind of surrender isn’t the opposite of leadership. It’s a deeper version of it. One that begins in connection, trust, and shared responsibility.

And yes, even when you’re trying to change the world.
Especially then.

Because when you’re moving fast, carrying urgency, and trying to do the most good with limited time… it’s tempting to tighten your grip. To lead by holding on.

But the real work of leadership - especially the kind that drives lasting change - isn’t about going the farthest. It’s about going together.

And when you loosen your grip - just enough - you make space for others to step in beside you. To share the load. To shape the path.

Let the dog decide.
You’ll still get where you’re going. You just won’t be walking there alone.

CURIOUS TO EXPLORE THIS FURTHER FOR YOUR ROLE?
Book a free clarity call

Or get in touch directly ania@impactsweetspot.com