Next month a group of exceptional flutists will arrive in Boston to audition for my job.* 

Positions like this rarely open up. When they do, they attract the best artists in the world. I sometimes get butterflies thinking about the significance of my choice to step down — this upcoming audition has amplified those flutters, big time.

It has also prompted some reflection on my own audition 20 years ago, and my experience becoming the BSO’s principal flute. Will this new person’s experience be similar? (I suffered and struggled a lot in my first years with the orchestra.) 

I truly hope this new flutist has an easier time than I did, and I want to do everything I can to support and assist them.

I have some ideas about how to be a force for good, starting with unconditionally accepting and championing them from the moment they are chosen.

I’m also keeping an eye on any not-so-healthy desire to control their experience, even if I might *believe* it’s coming from a good place. 

Writer Anne Lamott once said,“help is the sunny side of control.” This often rings true for me (thanks to the wise coaches and therapists who have helped me recognize this in myself.)

I wonder … what about you? Do you also sometimes “help,” when in fact “control” is a more accurate term for what you’re up to? 

Could there be some self-deception at play when you tell yourself that you are “just trying to help”?

Here are just a few of the ways we can deceive ourselves about what’s really motivating our “helping”:

• We buy into the mistaken idea that we know “better,” even when the other person is a grown adult capable of making their own choices. And so we insist on inserting ourselves, “helping” them to make the “right” choice.

• We act to meet our own needs, but we convince ourselves it’s “for them.” We try to control a situation to make ourselves feel more comfortable, and we justify it by telling ourselves that we’re acting in their best interest.

Sound familiar? Ugh. Me, too.

So, before I start making “helpful” suggestions, or taking it upon myself to “guide” this new musician, I’m going to ask myself, “is this truly helpful, or is this me trying to control their experience? Would it serve this person better for me to stand back?” 

(And when I’m not sure of the answer, I’ll go to my coach to help me get clear.)

BOTH/AND:  There will be a new principal flutist. It’s going to be a bittersweet process for me to relinquish my position. AND at the same time there’s no question that I will want my successor to succeed.  

It may turn out that truly helping means doing nothing at all. This might be uncomfortable for me. And it’s up to me to handle that discomfort. 

INVITATION TO REFLECT: Is it possible that behavior you see as “helping” is actually a cleverly disguised attempt to control? For example, is reminding your partner to go for his morning run “helping” him, or trying to control him? The answer depends. It requires discernment and can be nuanced. Truly getting clear on this asks us to take a clear-eyed, honest look at our own motivations. What would that look like for you?

* The job I refer to here is Principal Flutist of the Boston Symphony Orchestra. I'm also a professional Leadership & Professional Development Coach, a role which will expand to full-time once I step down from the BSO in August.