That's my sheep!

“Please… draw me a sheep.”

In The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, a young prince asks a pilot stranded in the desert to draw him a sheep.

The pilot repeatedly tries, but the Little Prince rejects each attempt. Finally, exasperated, the pilot draws a simple box with air holes and says,

“This is only his box. The sheep you asked for is inside.”

And the Prince lights up and says, “That’s my sheep!”

Hi, it’s Sunday Morning,

I’ve been thinking about that story. No, I’ve not been drawing sheep. I’ve been listening to leaders. Smart, capable people: entrepreneurs, executives, founders.

Lately, building Sunday Morning has put me on the other side of the conversation.

I’ve been knocking on doors, reaching out, trying to share something I believe matters.

Some people make room. They offer me a box. Others decide quickly that there’s nothing they need.

I understand both.

But the experience has made me wonder how often I’ve done the same: heard someone’s opening words and mistaken them for the whole story.

I think about the leaders I speak with. People accustomed to carrying the conversation, making the decisions, and finding the answers. People who don’t always realize how little room that can leave for someone else.

Some days, I’m the one holding space. Others, I need someone to draw me a box and say: your answer is in there.

Sometimes the most useful thing we can do is leave room for what we haven’t yet understood. Enough room for something neither of you can see yet.

I see it most in coaching.

People rarely come to coaching with a neat, clear ask. They come with something stirring inside: a longing, a restlessness, a belief in something more, and doubt about whether it’s okay to ask for it.

“I think I’m supposed to be happier than I am.”

“I’m successful, but I feel disconnected.”

“I don’t know what I want, but I know it’s not this.”

What they’re really saying is:

“Help me see what I can’t yet draw.”

So I hold space, I listen, I wait.

“Your sheep is in here somewhere,” I say. “Take a look.”

I’m still learning to hold the box open long enough to see mine clearly.

And maybe you are too.