Accepting Ambiguity Can Be A Form Of Wisdom
I love this statement by Gimli at the beginning of J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Two Towers: “Maybe there is no right choice.” It reflects a profound theme about the complexity and ambiguity of moral and strategic decisions. It suggests that sometimes, situations are so nuanced that no option is clearly correct or ideal, and choices involve sacrifice, risk, or uncertainty. Growth often comes from navigating these tough choices, and that accepting ambiguity can be a form of wisdom.
I also believe this reflects a perspective that is a valuable and underused approach in teaching and parenting our children as well. Teaching children that sometimes there isn’t a perfect or clearly right answer, but rather the best choice given the situation, helps them develop critical thinking and resilience. We need to encourage our kids to weigh their options, consider the consequences, and accept that uncertainty is a natural part of decision-making. By modeling and guiding them through these ambiguous situations, we foster adaptability, courage, and confidence in their ability to navigate life’s challenges. It’s about helping them understand that making thoughtful decisions amidst uncertainty is a skill worth cultivating.
Gimli’s statement is a good reminder that in difficult circumstances, leaders and individuals may need to accept that perfection isn’t always attainable. It emphasizes the importance of making the best possible decision with the information available, even if it’s inherently imperfect. Gimli’s words highlight the human experience of facing difficult dilemmas where clarity is lacking, encouraging resilience, adaptability, and courage in the face of uncertainty.
Who Will Carry On The Story?
There is a wonderful quote The Fellowship of the Ring from Bilbo talking to Frodo. “Don’t adventures ever have an end? I suppose not. Someone else always has to carry on the story. Well, it can’t be helped.” This reveals a lot that we can take away about the nature of stories, adventures, and life itself. We can learn several meaningful lessons.
Just as Bilbo recognizes that adventures never truly end because new ones always begin, our lives are continuous stories filled with ongoing challenges, growth, and discovery. No matter how much we accomplish, there’s always more to explore and learn.
Bilbo’s acknowledgment that someone else has to carry on the story highlights the importance of accepting change and trusting that the next person will step up when it’s their turn. It reminds us that life is a collective story where each person plays a part.
The idea that the story continues suggested a sense of responsibility to pass on what we’ve learned, whether through our actions, values, or contributions, so that others can carry the torch forward. This makes me think about our legacy.
Recognizing that adventures and life’s journeys don’t have definitive ends encourages resilience. Even when one chapter closes, another begins, and we have the capacity to face new challenges with hope and courage.
Leading By Remaining Grounded
I love Bilbo Baggins’s poem known as the “Riddle of Strider”: “All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring; Renewed shall be blade that was broken: The crownless again shall be king.” This poem is in J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Fellowship of the Ring. I posted about this poem back in January in Don’t Let the Lack of Glitter Fool You: Uncovering True Value Beyond the Shine. I am rereading The Fellowship of the Ring right now and when I came across the poem again the phrase, “Deep roots are not reached by the frost” really jumped out at me.
When Bilbo says, “Deep roots are not reached by the frost,” he’s using a metaphor to convey resilience and strength. The idea is that something with deep roots, like a sturdy tree, can withstand harsh conditions, such as frost or storms, because its foundation is strong and well-anchored.
The lesson suggested by Bilbo is that true strength and stability come from inner qualities, core values, or deeply-held beliefs. No matter how challenging external circumstances become, those with ‘deep roots’ can endure and remain grounded.
Leading With Purpose
In The Fellowship of the Ring, Bilbo Baggins said, “I have called you all together for a Purpose” in his birthday speech. The narrator of the story went on to tell us, “Something in the way that he said this made an impression.” J. R. R. Tolkien’s making Bilbo’s mention of “Purpose” with a capital ‘P’ reflected a grand, almost cosmic significance. Tolkien was planting an overarching destiny or meaning that Bilbo perceived guiding his life and actions. Conversely, his personal idea of purpose as something diminutive suggested a more humble, intimate understanding of purpose.
From this contrast, we can learn that our sense of purpose can operate on different levels. The grand Purpose can inspire us with a sense of connection to something larger than ourselves, offering a sense of importance and direction. Meanwhile, the diminutive purpose reminds us that meaningfulness can also be found in everyday acts, personal growth, and small contributions. Both perspectives are valuable: embracing the grand Purpose can motivate us towards long-term visions, while appreciating the diminutive purpose keeps us grounded and present.
Reflecting on Bilbo’s perspective encourages us to find balance by honoring larger meanings without neglecting the small, personal purposes that give daily life its richness.
Our Real-Life Story
Fleming Rutledge, author of The Battle for Middle-earth: Tolkien’s Divine Design in The Lord of the Rings, discussed how in The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings we find that J. R. R. Tolkien made them real-life stories. The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings are not happily-ever-after stories. They are real-life stories like we live out every day.
Rutledge explained that Tolkien’s stories, as with our lives are told and can be understood through both “surface narratives” and “deep narratives.” Surface narratives are the stories about our everyday lives. These are the stories abound our roles, routines, achievements, and experiences. Deep narratives, on the other hand, involve the underlying beliefs, values, and meanings that shape our identity and choices. They often relate to questions like “Who am I at my core?” “What is my purpose?” or “What do I value most?”
Our deep narratives are often shaped by our actions, choices, and experiences over time. The way we respond to life’s challenges, pursue our passions, and forge our relationships can reinforce or reshape the stories we tell ourselves about who we are and what gives our lives meaning. Just like the characters of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, our deeds and decisions act as the building blocks of our inner narratives, helping us create a sense of purpose and coherence that guides our journey.
Leading By Putting One Foot In Front Of The Other
During my rereading and study of The Fellowship of the Ring (The Lord of the Rings, Book 1) by J. R. R. Tolkien I am also reading the great book by Fleming Rutledge, The Battle for Middle-earth: Tolkien’s Divine Design in The Lord of the Rings. Rutledge started with The Hobbit and then works through all the books. I love his work because he is breaking all of Tolkien’s work down and finding the subtleties the way my mind does when I read. He is a whole lot more scholarly about it than me!
This morning in my reading, Rutledge broke down the Greek word Hupomonē from the first chapter of Revelations in the Bible. Hupomonē can be translated to mean “perseverance,” “steadfastness,” “fortitude,” or “patience.” Rutledge asserted that, “It [Hupomonē] is not a glamorous virtue like courage or valor. It sends off no fireworks. Yet it is required of all who would fight the good fight, and there is no one, however lowly, who cannot serve in this way. Bilbo, the rather comical little peace-loving hobbit, is given two or three really heroic moments, but 98 percent of his journey “there and back again” is just putting one foot in front of the other, week after weary week” (p. 60). I spoke about “fortitude” in my new book Mere Leadership asserting that fortitude demands stepping outside of our comfort zone and challenging prevailing beliefs or perceptions. The Hobbit, through Bilbo, reminded us that we don’t get a lot of the big-time heroic moments that often make the news in life. We do, however, do important and significant work every day. Like Bilbo, we put one foot in front of the other.
Leading Without Shortcuts
There is a Swedish proverb that says, “Genvägar är senvägar” that means trying to take a shortcut often makes you late or takes more time instead of saving time. I was reminded of this proverb during my reading of J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Fellowship of the Ring (Book 1). Pippin Took cautioned Frodo Baggins with these words: “Short cuts make long delays.” How very astute. In the context of The Fellowship of the Ring, the shortcut was related to travel and fighting darkness. But we are also tempted by shortcuts when doing projects.
Have you ever done anything that you thought was going to make things easier or save time, but that ended up the opposite? We are wired to take shortcuts. Sometimes we are trying to be more efficient, save time, or just plain being lazy. As Pippin warned, however, shortcuts usually lead to delays or less than desirable results. We need to put in the work or go the distance. As my dad always said, “If it is worth doing, it’s worth doing right.” So, next time we are considering a shortcut let’s take a moment and consider if it will cause delays.
Navigating The Power of Temptation: Lessons on Humility, Self-Awareness, and Self-Control
One of the themes that J. R. R. Tolkien made applicable to us in both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings was that power and possessions can take control over us. You can read more about this applicability in Applicability: Tolkien’s View on the Organic Meaning of Stories. One such example for us to learn from is at the beginning of The Fellowship of the Ring (Book 1), when Gandalf told Bilbo Baggins he should give the ring that had the power to make him invisible to Frodo Baggins. “Gandalf stood up. He spoke sternly. ‘You will be a fool if you do, Bilbo,’ he said. ‘You make that clearer with every word you say. It has got far too much hold on you. Let it go! And then you can go yourself, and be free’” (p. 34). Gandalf recognized what the power and possession of the ring was doing to Bilbo.
In this conversation it was like Bilbo became a different person. Bilbo replied, “‘But you won’t get it [the ring]. I won’t give my Precious away, I tell you.’ His hand strayed to the hilt of his small sword” (p. 34). The key word here is “precious.” This is what the evil creature Gollum. Gollum had talked baby talk to the ring calling it “My precious.” Now Bilbo sounded just like him. This was such a stark reminder how we can sometimes fall into the trap of letting power gained and possessions take over and turn us into a different person.
We’ve all seen this happen, or let it happen to us. I know I have. It was good that Gandalf was there to have the difficult conversation with his friend. From Bilbo’s reluctance to give up the Ring and Gollum’s obsession with “precious,” we can learn about the dangerous allure of temptation, particularly power and possessions, can grip even the most unsuspecting or well-meaning individuals.
Bilbo’s initial hesitation highlights how powerful the Ring’s influence is, subtly pulling him into its web and blurring his judgment. Similarly, Gollum’s obsession demonstrates how attachment to such a corrupting object can consume one’s identity and morality.
These scenes in The Fellowship of the Ring remind us to be mindful of attachments or desires that may seem harmless at first but can ultimately lead to loss of self-control and wellbeing. It also speaks to the importance of recognizing the corrupting power of temptation early and choosing the path of humility, self-awareness, and restraint. These leadership attributes are vital both in stories like Tolkien’s and in our own lives.
Tolkien As A Learner
“Those who had asked for more information about hobbits eventually got it, but they had to wait a long time; for the composition of The Lord of the Rings went on at intervals during the years 1936 to 1949, a period in which I had many duties that I did not neglect, and many other interests as a learner and teacher that often absorbed me.” I love this statement by J. R. R. Tolkien in the foreword of the second edition of The Fellowship of the Ring. Tolkien was indicating that those interested in hobbits, and by extension, his broader Middle-earth universe, had to be patient as he took time to develop these stories. This suggests he valued meticulous storytelling and was willing to take the necessary time to craft his world thoroughly.
I am inspired by Tolkien calling himself a learner. Specifically saying, “…interests as a learner” suggests that Tolkien viewed himself as someone who was continually growing and developing, both as a writer and as a person. As a person who considers himself a long-life learner and advocates continuous learning for all, it really resonated with me that he would include that statement in the foreword.
Tolkien’s statement reflects his humility, openness to new ideas, and a recognition that mastery is an ongoing journey rather than a final destination. This attitude indicates that Tolkien valued learning from his experiences, feedback, and the process of creating his stories, which in turn demonstrates his dedication to improvement and a humble respect for the craft of writing.
Applicability: Tolkien’s View on the Organic Meaning of Stories
Studying J. R. R. Tolkien has been very interesting and has caused me to do a great deal of deep thought and research. Tolkien repeatedly said he did not like or appreciate allegory. This really caused me to pause because I always saw his connection to Christianity as allegorical. But as I studied more about it I learned Tolkien was drawing on his own experiences and making his stories applicable, not allegorical. In the foreword of the second edition of The Fellowship of the Ring, Tolkien made it crystal clear for me, saying, “I much prefer history, true or feigned, with its varied applicability to the thought and experience of readers. I think that many confuse ‘applicability’ with ‘allegory’; but the one resides in the freedom of the reader, and the other in the purposed domination of the author.” He was right. I had been confused.
Tolkien’s comment in the foreword highlights a key distinction between ‘applicability’ and ‘allegory’ in literature. When he says that ‘applicability’ resides in the freedom of the reader, he means that readers can take different themes, lessons, or messages from his work and interpret them in ways that resonate personally with their own experiences. If you’ve read any of Tolkien’s work, you know it does just that. This allows for a diverse range of understandings and connections.
Conversely, ‘allegory’ involves the author’s deliberate intention to embed specific meanings or messages that serve a particular purpose or point of view. When an author uses allegory, they are guiding the reader toward a predetermined interpretation, which can sometimes feel like a form of control or “domination” over how the story is understood.
Tolkien went on to say, “An author cannot of course remain wholly unaffected by his experience, but the ways in which a story-germ uses the soil of experience are extremely complex, and attempts to define the process are at best guesses from evidence that is inadequate and ambiguous.” Our experiences matter and are part of our stories.
Tolkien emphasized that his stories are open to interpretation. He wanted us to realize that the meanings are applicable in various ways to different readers. He did not want readers of his works to be constrained by rigid allegorical constrictions that attempt to dictate how they must be understood. This perspective respects our imaginative freedom and the organic way stories can hold different meanings for different people.
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