The Power of Acknowledgement
Earlier this month I set my flute down, rose from my principal flute chair, and walked to the front of the stage to take a special “final bow,” reserved for musicians leaving the orchestra. (A Boston Symphony tradition.)
It was an overwhelming experience.
Of course it was significant because it was my last time performing in Symphony Hall.*
But there was something else, too — and I’ve been thinking about what that might have been.
I’ve received a lot of applause over my career. This applause felt different.
Standing alone at the front of the stage, no flute in my hands, it seemed to me that I was experiencing a different kind of recognition.
It seemed to me that this applause wasn't really about my performance that evening, or even the level of artistry I’d shared over the last decades, but rather it was a more complete recognition of who I have been in this role over these 20 years. What I’ve contributed on all levels. And what went into those contributions. (Same for the applause received by my colleague who also took his final bow that night.)
That applause was more than just praise. It was a form of acknowledgement.
Acknowledgement = I see you.
That night was acknowledgement on a grand scale, packaged in a way most people don’t get to experience. It was powerful.
And yet our daily lives are also rich with opportunities for acknowledgement — both big and small.
I’m curious — do you offer acknowledgements?
Acknowledgement is different from praise, or a generic “good job!” Real acknowledgement requires the giver to slow down and to look one layer deeper (or more), and to articulate what they see. The giver doesn't judge or praise. The giver doesn't even have to agree or approve in order to acknowledge.
Improving our skill and willingness to acknowledge others can be powerful. This is especially true when we are in a leadership position.
Here are examples of acknowledgements I’ve offered in the past few months. As you read on, I invite you to imagine how you might be able to offer a version in your life:
I acknowledge the courage and tenacity you’ve shown during this first year in your new role.
I can hear in your voice the depth of your love for your sister.
I acknowledge the difficulty of this conversation and how gracefully you are receiving this tough feedback.
You showed so much dedication by finishing that entire Harry Potter novel.
I acknowledge your willingness to try something uncomfortable.
I see the effort and sacrifice that went into this.
The generosity of spirit you brought to your family gathering is a testament to you.
You took a risk when it would have been so much easier not to.
I acknowledge your willingness to stick with that messy dating scene.
I acknowledge your clarity even in the midst of all those competing opinions.
I can see the depth of your love for your mentor, and I acknowledge your grief at his loss.
I acknowledge your discomfort, and I see the real reasons why this is a big stretch for you.
I acknowledge you for speaking out and for standing up for what you believe in.
Your big heart, and the depth of your caring is evident in how you lead your team.
Does this language sound new or strange? (Some of these are a mouthful!) I felt clunky and awkward when I first started exploring this concept. As my skill and awareness has grown, though, I am more and more convinced of the power of genuine, thoughtful acknowledgement.
And if I can learn this … so can you!
Leaders can better acknowledge team members. Parents can better acknowledge children. Friends can better acknowledge each other.
ACTION: Ask yourself, “Who in my world might benefit from being seen and acknowledged?” Run an experiment! Commit to acknowledging one person each day for a week and see what you notice. (Remember, acknowledgement is different from praise. It's a genuine reflection of what you see — it's not an evaluation or judgment.)