Most people drift through life’s transitions. The happiest people design them.

After more than forty years of coaching leaders through promotions, career changes, retirement, grief, divorce, empty nests, health challenges, and new beginnings, I’ve noticed something surprising.

The people who thrive aren’t necessarily the ones with the best opportunities.

They’re the ones who become intentional about the life they’re creating.

Just last week, two coaching conversations reminded me of this truth.

One client is preparing to retire after a long and successful career. From the outside, everything looked exciting. Yet he quietly admitted, “I feel untethered.” His calendar was changing faster than his identity, and he wasn’t sure who he wanted to become in this next season.

Another client is beginning life after divorce. She described herself as feeling “unbalanced, excited, vaguely depressed...and a little lost.” She wasn’t just grieving what had ended; she was trying to imagine what could begin.

Different stories.

Different transitions.

The same question.

Now what?

Every transition creates two opportunities.

The first is external.

A new job.

A new home.

Retirement.

Marriage.

Graduation.

A move.

The second is internal.

A chance to become someone new.

Most of us spend enormous energy preparing for the external transition while giving very little thought to the internal one.

That’s why so many people unintentionally recreate the same life in different circumstances.

A new job doesn’t automatically create fulfillment.

Retirement doesn’t automatically create purpose.

Moving doesn’t automatically create community.

Healing doesn’t automatically create joy.

The next chapter deserves more than hope.

It deserves design.

Transitions give us something precious: a blank page.

Some people fill it intentionally.

Others simply rewrite the same story with different scenery.

Perhaps you’re in a transition right now.

Or perhaps you’re simply enjoying the slower rhythm of summer. Vacations often create the space our busy lives rarely allow. Sometimes the quiet moments become the places where life grows most clear.

Whatever season you’re in, these are questions worth asking:

• Who do I want to become?

• What do I want more of?

• What do I want less of?

• What deserves my attention now?

Most of us spend years responding to responsibilities, deadlines, careers, children, aging parents, financial pressures, and endless obligations.

Then one day we finally have room to breathe...

...and realize we haven’t stopped to ask what we truly want.

That’s why intentional life design matters.

It’s also why I created Designing What’s Next.

It isn’t another goal-setting planner.

It’s a guided workbook designed to help you slow down, reflect deeply, and intentionally create a life that fits the person you’re becoming.

We don’t get to choose every transition life brings us.

But we do get to choose how we respond.

Every season places a blank page in front of us.

The question isn’t whether your next chapter has already begun.

The question is:

Will you write it intentionally?

Leadership Reflection

Whether you’re leading an organization, a team, or your own family, the same principle applies.

Transitions reveal leadership.

The leaders who flourish don’t simply react to change—they intentionally shape who they are becoming within it.

This week, ask yourself:

What part of my next chapter deserves more intention than assumption?

“The future depends on what you do today.” — Mahatma Gandhi

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This week I’m sharing my new workbook, Designing What’s Next, created for anyone navigating a season of transition.

Whether you’re entering retirement, changing careers, healing from loss, beginning a new relationship, becoming an empty nester, or simply sensing that life is inviting you into something new, this guided workbook will help you reflect, clarify what matters most, and intentionally design the next chapter of your life.

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Most people don’t fail because they lack talent. They struggle because they neglect the inner work.

A few weeks ago I came across something I had written more than a decade ago.

As I read it, I smiled.

Some of the research was dated. Some of the language felt too formal. If I were writing it today, I would say many things differently.

But one thing surprised me.

The central message still feels true.

After nearly forty years of coaching leaders—from CEOs and physicians to nonprofit executives, entrepreneurs, and pastors—I have become convinced that people rarely derail because they lack intelligence or technical ability.

Far more often, they struggle because they neglect the inner work.

This isn't simply a personal development principle; it's a leadership reality. Bill George expressed it well:

"The hardest person you will ever have to lead is yourself. If we can't lead ourselves, how can we possibly lead other people?"

I’ve watched brilliant people lose influence because they couldn’t receive feedback.

I’ve seen gifted leaders exhaust themselves because they couldn’t establish healthy boundaries.

I’ve coached talented executives whose careers accelerated almost overnight—not because they became smarter, but because they became more self-aware.

The older I get, the more convinced I am that lasting success grows from the inside out.

Three inner skills seem to matter more than almost anything else.

1. Know Yourself Honestly

Self-awareness is the beginning of growth.

It’s surprisingly difficult to see ourselves accurately. We all have blind spots. We justify our behavior. We explain away habits that others experience very differently than we do.

One executive I coached was exceptionally bright. He consistently produced outstanding results, yet people avoided working with him. He believed others were simply “too sensitive.”

Only after receiving honest feedback—and choosing to believe it rather than defend himself—did real change begin.

His intelligence had never been the issue.

His lack of self-awareness was.

Growth begins the moment we become more curious than defensive.

Not, “How could they think that about me?”

But, “What might I be missing?”

That question has changed countless careers—and relationships.

2. Build Relationships Before You Need Them

Influence isn’t built through authority.

It’s built through trust.

The leaders people gladly follow are rarely the loudest or the most charismatic. They’re the ones who listen well, show genuine curiosity, keep their commitments, and make people feel seen.

One client was known as the person who could get any project finished. She worked tirelessly but did almost everything herself. Delegating felt inefficient. Investing time in people felt optional.

Eventually, she realized she wasn’t leading a team.

She was carrying one.

As she intentionally slowed down, coached her people, and learned to trust others with meaningful responsibility, everything changed. Her team grew stronger, and so did she.

Relationships aren’t a distraction from the work.

They are the work.

3. Stay Steady When Life Gets Hard

Every one of us eventually encounters seasons we didn’t choose.

Unexpected change.

Loss.

Conflict.

Disappointment.

The question isn’t whether stress will come.

The question is what kind of person we become when it does.

The healthiest leaders I know aren’t those who never feel anxious or discouraged. They simply recover more quickly. They pause before reacting. They ask for help. They establish boundaries. They protect what restores them spiritually, emotionally, and physically.

Resilience isn’t pretending everything is fine.

It’s developing practices that help us remain grounded when everything around us feels uncertain.

As a Christian, I’m reminded of Paul’s words about being “transformed by the renewing of your mind.” Whether you approach personal growth through faith, psychology, or leadership development, the invitation is remarkably similar: become more aware, love people well, and remain steady under pressure.

That kind of transformation doesn’t happen overnight.

It happens one conversation, one decision, one act of courage at a time.

A Leadership Reflection

As you think about your own life, where do you sense the greatest opportunity for growth?

• Do I see myself as others experience me?

• Am I investing in relationships, or simply accomplishing tasks?

• What helps me remain grounded when life becomes difficult?

We often spend enormous energy improving our resumes.

Perhaps the greater investment is improving the person behind the resume.

Because wherever we go...

there we are.

Perhaps the most important leadership assignment you'll ever receive isn't leading a company, a ministry, or even your family. It's leading yourself—with honesty, humility, and hope.

Everything else grows from there.

🌿 Elaine’s Coaching Corner

An exclusive reflection for paid subscribers of The Inside Stuff.

Assess Your Three Inner Practices

15 Coaching Questions to Help You Grow from the Inside Out

“The most important work you’ll ever do is the work within you.”

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A practical coaching exercise for paid subscribers.

Assess Your Three Inner Practices

15 Coaching Questions for Personal Growth

Assess Your Three Inner Skills

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Last week I wrote about my marriage to John and the difficult decision to end it after seventeen years.

Many people assumed that once I finally left, I would feel relieved.

They were right.

What no one—including me—anticipated was that relief and grief can exist at exactly the same time.

I had spent years longing for emotional freedom. I believed that once I walked out the door, the hardest part would be behind me.

Instead, it was the beginning of an entirely different journey.

John and Julia were spending a few weeks at his family’s cottage on Torch Lake in Michigan when I moved out.

I intentionally waited until they were gone. I wanted to spare Julia the pain of watching our home come apart one box at a time.

My dear housekeeper, Carmela, helped me pack.

I’ll never forget standing in the kitchen together, tears quietly filling both of our eyes as we decided which dishes, silverware, and glasses would come with me.

For reasons I still don’t understand, I had also volunteered to bake a birthday cake for my fourteen-year-old godson that same afternoon.

At the time, I still believed I was capable of doing everything.

I wasn’t.

The lump in my throat was so constant I could barely eat.

Looking back, I realize that was grief introducing itself.

By evening we had unpacked most of the boxes into my new rental house.

The bedrooms looked fine.

The kitchen looked fine.

But the large living room and dining room stood completely empty because we had left all the furniture behind.

Those empty rooms felt strangely familiar.

I had a gaping hole inside me too.

The weeks passed.

Julia divided her time between two homes.

Like so many children of divorce, she tried to make sense of a situation she never asked for.

John was grieving.

I was grieving.

And somehow we both tried to make life feel normal.

We rented extra movies.

Went shopping.

Stopped for Oreo Blizzards at Dairy Queen.

Parents often work incredibly hard to protect their children from pain.

Sometimes all we can really do is walk through it together.

One Friday night became one of the most meaningful moments of that entire year.

Friday nights were the hardest.

Julia and I were at the video store in Coppell picking out movies and candy.

The young cashier looked at me and quietly asked,

“Are you okay, ma’am?”

I answered honestly.

“Not really. We’re going through a divorce.”

Without hesitation he smiled gently and said,

“My parents got divorced too. We were all a mess for the first year...but I can tell you something.”

“We’re all much happier now.”

Those simple words became one of the greatest gifts anyone gave me that year.

He wasn’t trying to fix me.

He wasn’t explaining away my pain.

He simply handed me hope.

Sometimes hope arrives from the most unexpected people.

Then Thanksgiving came.

Julia was with John.

I spent the holiday completely alone.

If you’ve ever experienced deep grief, let me offer one piece of advice.

Please don’t spend major holidays alone.

Volunteer.

Invite yourself to a friend’s table.

Host dinner.

Tell someone you need company.

Anything.

That Thanksgiving remains one of the loneliest days of my life.

My only companion was my chocolate Lab curled beside me as we watched the National Dog Show all afternoon.

I don’t think I’ve watched it since.

The memories are simply too vivid.

By Monday morning I was desperate.

During a coaching call, one of my longtime clients asked how Thanksgiving had been.

When I told her the truth, she said something that quietly changed my life.

“I went through DivorceCare after my divorce. Why don’t you go tonight?”

That evening I walked into my first meeting.

The room was filled with people who looked exactly like I felt.

Sad.

Anxious.

Confused.

Exhausted.

Every week we watched a short teaching, then gathered in small groups.

People cried.

Some were angry.

Some were terrified.

Some barely spoke.

No one tried to fix anyone.

We simply carried one another.

Monday nights became my lifeline.

Every Monday morning I woke up with hope because I knew I would spend the evening with people who understood.

People who didn’t need explanations.

People who didn’t expect me to “be over it.”

Healing wasn’t happening because someone gave me better advice.

Healing happened because I stopped grieving alone.

One of my favorite quotes from Henry Cloud says,

“God designed our tear ducts right in our eyes so our pain can be seen, which fosters vital human connection and brain healing.”— Henry Cloud

I’ve never forgotten those words.

Whether or not you share my faith, I believe they express something profoundly human.

We were never designed to carry life’s greatest losses by ourselves.

Research consistently tells us that relationships are among the strongest predictors of resilience after loss.

Scripture says it beautifully:

“Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” — Ecclesiastes 4:12

Whether your loss is a divorce, the death of someone you love, the loss of a dream, a career, your health, or a relationship that mattered deeply...

Don’t isolate.

Find your people.

Healing almost always begins there.

Leadership Reflection

Every person eventually experiences loss.

Sometimes it’s obvious.

Sometimes it’s invisible.

What loss are you carrying right now?

Have you allowed anyone to carry it with you?

Strength isn’t pretending you’re okay.

Strength is having the courage to let trusted people remind you that you won’t always feel this way.

🔒 Paid Subscriber Resource

Every month I create a practical leadership and personal growth tool exclusively for paid subscribers. My hope is that these resources become part of your personal library—guides you return to whenever life or leadership presents a new challenge.

This month’s resource: The Elaine Morris Grief Reflection & Healing Guide™

The downloadable workbook begins below.

The Elaine Morris Grief Reflection & Healing Guide™

Healing isn’t about “getting over” a loss.

It’s about learning how to carry it in a way that allows you to love, lead, and live fully again.

This month’s workbook includes:

• A personal inventory of past and present losses.

• Reflection questions about how your family taught (or didn’t teach) you to grieve.

• Insights from neuroscience on why relationships play such a vital role in healing.

• Leadership applications for navigating loss in yourself and those you lead.

• Practical exercises you can begin using this week.

I encourage you not to rush through these pages.

Instead, consider completing one section each day over the next week, allowing yourself the time and space to reflect honestly.

Note to readers: If you are unable to download the workbook, email me at elaine@elainemorris.com and I will email it to you directly.

The Elaine Morris Grief Reflection

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Most of us have at least one relationship that doesn’t fit neatly into a category.

It’s not a success story. It’s not a failure story. It’s not a story of heroes and villains.

It’s a story of love, disappointment, forgiveness, grief, and gratitude—all mixed together.

This is one of those stories.

A few days ago, my nephew wrote a beautiful tribute to my former husband, John, who died in 2016.

As I read his words, memories came rushing back. Not just memories of John’s life, but memories of our life together.

John and I were married for seventeen years.

When I married him, I knew he struggled with his sexuality. I was young, hopeful, and convinced that love, commitment, prayer, and determination could overcome anything. Perhaps that was naïve. Perhaps it was simply the optimism of youth.

What I know for certain is that we genuinely loved one another.

We built a life together. We welcomed our daughter, Julia, into the world. We shared dreams, laughter, disappointments, family gatherings, ordinary routines, and countless memories. Like many couples, we created a life that was both beautiful and imperfect

Yet some realities proved more complicated than either of us expected.

Eventually, our marriage ended.

For many people, divorce becomes a story of blame. People choose sides. Old wounds harden into resentment. Every memory is rewritten through the lens of pain.

Thankfully, that was not our story.

Was there grief? Absolutely.

Disappointment? Plenty.

Confusion? Certainly.

Harsh words? At times.

But there was also grace.

With the help of our pastor, we sat together and prayerfully worked through the details of our separation. We talked about finances, property, parenting, and how we wanted to treat one another going forward. We did not do it perfectly, but we both desired to act with integrity and kindness.

One of the most important lessons I learned from that season is that acceptance is not the same thing as agreement, understanding, or approval.

Acceptance simply says:

“I see your humanity. I acknowledge your struggle. I refuse to stop caring about you.”

As the years passed, our relationship changed shape.

We were no longer husband and wife, but we remained connected emotionally and spiritually in ways we never could while we were married. We shared conversations about family, parenting, aging, and life's challenges. We celebrated holidays together, gathered with family, and continued to care deeply about one another's well-being.

One of the greatest gifts John gave me was his blessing of my future happiness.

He loved my husband Rod and was genuinely glad to see me loved, supported, and partnered in ways he knew he could not provide. That was not easy for either of us, yet it reflected the genuine affection and respect that remained between us.

He didn’t want me to suffer.

I didn’t want him to suffer.

That kind of grace does not come naturally.

It comes from recognizing that every human being is carrying burdens, disappointments, and battles we may never fully understand.

One lesson I’ve learned over the years is that healing does not always come from getting answers. Sometimes it comes from making peace with the fact that some questions will remain unanswered. Maturity is not always finding certainty. Sometimes it is learning to live with mystery while choosing love anyway.

People sometimes ask how faith survives disappointment.

My answer is that faith was never built on getting everything I wanted.

My faith did not answer all my questions.

It did not erase the grief.

It did not magically resolve every tension.

What it did provide was a place to stand when life unfolded differently than I had hoped.

It reminded me that God’s presence is not dependent on perfect outcomes.

I believe God loved John.

I believe God loved me.

And I believe God walked beside both of us through joy, confusion, heartbreak, healing, and loss.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to believe that one of the signs of emotional maturity is the ability to hold two seemingly contradictory truths at the same time.

I can grieve the loss of my marriage and be grateful for it.

I can acknowledge the pain and still honor the person.

I can wish things had been different and still celebrate the good that came from them.

I can miss someone and be at peace.

In my coaching work, I have seen the same principle play out repeatedly. The healthiest leaders, spouses, parents, and friends are not those who avoid tension. They are those who learn to hold it without becoming bitter.

They can hold truth and compassion.

Grief and gratitude.

Loss and love.

Disappointment and faith.

Life taught me that not every story gets a tidy ending.

Some stories leave us with unanswered questions.

But if we’re fortunate, they also leave us with compassion, wisdom, humility, and gratitude.

When I think of John today, I do not think first about the pain.

I think about Julia.

I think about laughter.

I think about family.

I think about the many people whose lives he touched.

I think about a man who was deeply loved.

And I think about a complicated love story that taught me more about grace than I could have learned any other way.

Looking back, that’s what John’s life left with me.

Compassion.

Wisdom.

Gratitude.

And a faith that endured.

For that—and for him—I thank God.

Author’s Note: I share this story with gratitude and respect for John, our daughter Julia, and the many family members and friends who loved him. My purpose is not to revisit old debates or settle unanswered questions. It is simply to reflect on what love, loss, forgiveness, and faith taught me—and to honor a man who played an important role in my life.

Leadership Reflection

Most of us are carrying something unresolved.

Perhaps it is grief over a person, a relationship, a dream that never came to be, a career disappointment, a health challenge, or a season of life that ended too soon.

Perhaps it is not grief at all, but the tension of holding two opposing realities at the same time.

You may love your work and be exhausted by it.

Feel grateful for your success and uncertain about your future.

Believe in someone and be disappointed by their behavior.

Feel called to a new opportunity while mourning what you must leave behind.

Leaders are often required to hold complexity without rushing to simplify it.

Take a few moments to reflect:

• What loss, disappointment, or unresolved grief am I carrying today?

• What two seemingly opposing realities am I trying to hold at the same time?

• How is this affecting me emotionally?

• How is it impacting my relationships?

• How is it influencing my leadership, decision-making, energy, or performance?

• What would it look like to acknowledge both realities rather than choosing one over the other?

Growth often begins when we stop demanding that life be simple and instead learn to hold complexity with honesty, courage, and grace.

This past Sunday, Father Karl Burns preached on Jesus’ Parable of the Weeds (Matthew 13:24-30).

The story is simple. A farmer plants good seed in his field. During the night, an enemy sows weeds among the wheat. When the workers discover the problem, they immediately want to pull up the weeds.

The farmer surprises them.

“Leave them alone for now.”

That wasn’t the answer they expected.

Most of us are natural weed hunters.

Neuroscientist Rick Hanson describes the brain’s negativity bias—the tendency to notice threats, problems, and mistakes more quickly than what’s going well. In other words, we’re wired to spot weeds.

Left unchecked, we can spend our lives identifying what’s wrong while overlooking what is healthy, growing, and worthy of cultivation.

Father Karl made an important distinction. The point of the parable is not to spend our energy deciding who is wheat and who is weeds—who is good and who is bad. Nor is it our job to pull up the weeds.

Instead, we are called to focus on what we are growing within ourselves: kindness, patience, humility, integrity, and love.

In a world that rewards outrage, this is countercultural wisdom.

The world does not need more angry, judgmental people.

It needs more people who embody the qualities they wish to see in others.

Father Karl also shared a Lakota proverb that beautifully complements this lesson.

An elder told his grandson that inside every person are two wolves fighting for control. One wolf represents anger, bitterness, resentment, pride, and fear. The other represents compassion, courage, generosity, peace, and love.

The grandson asked, “Which wolf wins?”

The elder replied, “The one you feed.”

That question has stayed with me all week.

Which wolf are you feeding?

As leaders, parents, spouses, friends, and citizens, we often believe our greatest contribution is identifying problems. Certainly, problems need attention. But leadership is more than criticism.

Leadership is cultivation.

This principle applies not only to our personal lives but also to the organizations we lead.

When something goes wrong, many organizations instinctively ask:

“Who caused this?”

But the healthiest organizations ask a different question:

“What happened, and what can we learn?”

Jim Collins has written about conducting an “autopsy without blame.” The purpose is not to identify a culprit. The purpose is to understand the system.

As W. Edwards Deming observed:

“Every system is perfectly designed to get the results it gets.”

Instead of asking, “Whose fault was this?” effective leaders ask:

• What happened?

• Why did it happen?

• What can we learn?

• How can we improve the process going forward?

This approach assumes people are generally acting in good faith and doing the best they can with the information they have at the time.

When leaders focus on blame, people hide mistakes.

When leaders focus on learning, people tell the truth.

That creates psychological safety—the confidence that admitting an error will lead to improvement rather than punishment.

As Amy Edmondson writes:

“Psychological safety is not about being nice. It’s about giving candid feedback, openly admitting mistakes, and learning from each other.”

The same principle applies in our families, friendships, communities, and workplaces.

What if we spent less energy assigning blame and more energy cultivating understanding, accountability, wisdom, and growth?

What if we focused less on identifying weeds and more on growing wheat?

The wolf you feed is the wolf that grows.

The culture you nurture is the culture that spreads.

The harvest you reap tomorrow will be planted in what you sow today.

So before spending another day hunting weeds, ask yourself:

What am I cultivating—in myself, in my relationships, and in my organization?

Because the future rarely emerges from what we criticize.

It grows from what we cultivate.

Leadership Reflection

1. Where am I spending more energy criticizing than cultivating?

2. Which wolf have I been feeding lately?

3. What is one quality I want to intentionally grow in myself this week?

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Choose an area where results are falling short of expectations.

Use this framework with your leadership team to uncover root causes, strengthen systems, and improve performance.

At your next executive retreat or team meeting, dedicate an hour to working through the process together. Instead of asking, “Who caused this?” you’ll learn to ask, “What happened, and what can we learn?”

The result is greater accountability, stronger trust, and better outcomes.

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A Summer Revisit

I first wrote this last summer, but as I looked at my June calendar this week, I realized I needed the reminder again. Perhaps you do too.

For all the high performers trying to balance work, family, travel, relationships, and a little fun, here’s a summer survival guide with a few new tweaks.

Congratulations. You’ve made it to June.

Your inbox is overflowing, your calendar is packed, and summer has arrived with its own set of demands—vacations to plan, family to enjoy, and memories you'd rather not miss.

You’re under pressure to:

• Maintain quarterly performance,

• Show up for water balloon fights,

• Grill the perfect steak,

• And maybe—just maybe—fan the flame of your romantic life (or light a new match if you’re single and optimistic).

Pro tip: You don’t have to crush everything at once. This isn’t a triathlon—it’s more like an obstacle course... with sunscreen in your eyes.

Your Executive Summer Playbook:

1. Schedule joy like a board meeting.

If it’s not on the calendar, it won’t happen. Look at what’s already booked. Then ask yourself: What’s missing that would truly give me joy?

Torch Lake, Michigan

When we were raising my daughter, we had an annual July 4th all-cousins gathering at our northern Michigan farm on Torch Lake. I can still see three-year-old Julia sitting in the garden, peeling peas straight from the pod. Grampa boiled the water while someone ran to harvest the corn. I wouldn’t change a thing about those magical trips.

Looking back, I do wish we had carved out a few more couple-only adventures. As working parents, it was easy to convince ourselves there wasn't enough time or money. But seasons pass quickly.

But really—don’t you make the impossible happen every day at work?

Imagine what it models for your children when they see their parents prioritizing time together. They’ll feel the shift. The spark. And that matters.

As for adventure? A client of mine Zoomed in from an RV, clearly integrating work, family, and fun. It can be done.

2. Redefine success—for a season.

Sometimes, “crushing it” means keeping the kids alive, your team focused, and not snapping at your partner in the airport security line.

Ask yourself:

• What does a successful summer look like for me/us this year?

• How do I define summer fun?

• What’s a magical summer memory I want to rekindle—or create for the first time?

• How does my family define fun, and what memories do we want to make together?

• What is one thing I want people I love to remember about me this summer?

3. Say yes to joy.

Ice cream with your daughter is strategy.

A long walk without your phone? Leadership development.

• What simple ways can I disconnect from work, devices, and stressors?

• What do I want more of in my life?

• How can I start living into that—this summer?

4. Reconnect.

With your people. With nature. With yourself.

It might do more for your Q3 goals than another Zoom call.

• Who are the most important people I need time with? How can I make that happen this summer?

• What does my team need for relief and support right now?

5. Laugh often.

Your beach body is fine.

Your parenting is fine.

Your leadership is (mostly) fine.

Lighten up.

Even high performers need time to float.

So take the break. Make the memory. Watch the fireflies.

The work will still be there when you get back.

But this summer will not.

The conversations on the porch. The family dinner that runs long. The walk on the beach. The child who still wants to tell you every detail of their day. The grandchild who wants one more walk. The friend you've been meaning to call. The spouse who would love an uninterrupted evening together.

Success is important. So are the people you’re working so hard for.

Make the memory. Take the trip. Watch the fireflies.

Summer is shorter than you think.

Whether you’re raising children, enjoying grandchildren, building a business, caring for aging parents, or discovering new freedoms in this season of life, summer is an invitation.

Not to do more.

To notice more.

To savor more.

To remember what all the striving is for.

Here's to a summer well-lived. ☀️

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A lesson for leaders, spouses, parents, and anyone who has ever argued with a teenager.

Have you ever found yourself explaining something perfectly—and somehow making the conversation worse?

I have.

A spouse is upset. An employee is frustrated. A friend feels hurt. A teenager declares, “It’s not fair.”

We explain.

They become more upset.

So we explain harder.

Oddly, that doesn’t help.

Two coaching conversations this week reminded me of a simple truth I keep forgetting:

When people are upset, they usually don’t need an explanation first.

They need to feel understood.

We all know what it feels like to be misunderstood. And most of us know how hard it is to listen when we're hurt, angry, or disappointed.

One leader was dealing with an employee who felt slighted after being reassigned for a day.

“It’s not fair,” the employee said.

The manager carefully explained why the change was necessary.

“It’s not fair.”

She explained again.

“It still isn’t fair.”

By the end of the conversation, neither person felt heard.

A few days later, another leader asked an employee, “How’s it going?”

The employee responded with ten minutes of complaints about customers, coworkers, management, and life in general.

The leader tried to help.

Then reassure.

Then quietly looked for the nearest exit.

Most of us have been there.

Whether at work or at home, our natural response when someone is upset is to fix it, defend ourselves, or explain why they’re wrong.

The problem?

When emotions are running high, people are rarely asking for a solution.

They’re asking a much simpler question:

“Can you see what this feels like from my side?”

Until that question is answered, logic rarely lands.

When someone is upset, we often become upset too.

Their frustration triggers our frustration. Their criticism awakens our defenses.

Before we know it, we’re reacting instead of responding.

This is why emotional regulation matters.

If we cannot manage our own reactions, it is very difficult to respond well to someone else's.

The ability to pause, notice our own emotions, and choose our response is one of the foundations of emotional intelligence.

It grows through prayer, reflection, feedback, coaching, therapy, and the humility to admit we all have blind spots.

The more aware we become of ourselves, the more present we can be for others.

The Pause That Changes Everything

Emotional intelligence often begins with a very brief pause.

Before responding, notice what is happening inside you.

Maybe you’re thinking:

“I don’t have time for this.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“They’re acting like a child.”

“I know exactly how to fix this.”

Take a breath.

Then get curious instead of corrective.

Try:

“You seem really frustrated.”

“I can tell this matters to you.”

“Tell me more about what’s bothering you.”

And then do something surprisingly difficult.

Listen.

Not listening while preparing your rebuttal.

Not listening while writing your closing argument.

Just listening.

One of the most powerful phrases a leader—or spouse, parent, friend, or coach—can learn is:

“So what I hear you saying is...”

Then simply reflect back what you heard.

Not whether you agree.

Not whether they’re right.

Just what you heard.

People calm down when they feel understood.

Not because their problem is solved.

Because they no longer have to fight to be heard.

This approach doesn’t mean agreeing with bad behavior or avoiding accountability.

It means recognizing that empathy is often the shortest path to influence.

People listen better when they feel heard.

Relationships strengthen.

Conflict de-escalates.

Solutions become possible.

The next time someone is upset, resist the urge to explain.

Instead, try:

“Tell me what’s bothering you. I’d like to understand it better.”

You may be surprised where the conversation goes.

Once people feel heard, they’re often much more open to hearing another perspective. Sometimes they’ll even agree. Occasionally they’ll apologize. And if you’re very lucky, a teenager may grunt something that sounds vaguely affirmative.

People who lead others well usually learn to lead themselves first.

And sometimes leadership begins with something as simple—and as difficult—as taking a breath, setting aside our need to be right, and helping another person feel understood.

Reflection Questions

As you think about your own relationships and leadership, consider:

• When someone becomes upset with you, what is your most common reaction? Do you explain, defend, fix, withdraw, or something else?

• Are your internal conversations more focused on other people’s behavior or your own reactions?

• What situations tend to hook you emotionally and make it difficult to stay present?

• What practices help you become more emotionally regulated? Prayer? Reflection? Journaling? Meditation? Feedback from trusted friends? Coaching or therapy?

• Who do you know that models emotional regulation with grace, kindness, and patience? What can you learn from them?

The ability to listen well begins with the ability to lead ourselves well.

And that is a lifelong journey.

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One of the most effective ways to develop emotional regulation is through consistent self-reflection. To help with that process, I’ve created a simple 30-Day EQ Growth Journal that I often use with coaching clients.

This 5 minute per day exercise helps you identify emotional triggers, recognize recurring patterns, and practice responding thoughtfully rather than reactively.

If you’d like to deepen your growth in this area, I invite you to become a paid subscriber and download the tool below.

Thank you being a paid subscriber. I truly appreciate your support of my writing. I hope you find this tool helpful. If you have any questions, I welcome an email at elaine@elainemorris.com.

30 Day Eq Growth Journal Copy

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For months, I found myself thinking deeply about a one-hour Zoom workshop I was scheduled to lead for 100 women leaders.

You would think that after 40 years of coaching executives, this kind of thing would feel easy by now.

The pressure was not coming from my client.
It was coming from me.

I wanted to offer something that would make a real difference. I did not want to deliver a pleasant hour of “good content.” I wanted the experience to matter. I wanted depth. Real value. Something meaningful enough that people would leave feeling seen, encouraged, and moved forward in some way.

But there was one problem.

How exactly do you create meaningful transformation on a one-hour Zoom call with 100 busy leaders?

I strained over it from the moment I agreed to do it.

Have you ever committed to something important and then quietly wondered whether you were truly capable of carrying it well?

As the workshop got closer, I went into overdrive. I researched. Took notes. Deleted notes. Asked trusted friends for ideas. Prayed. Opened my laptop. Closed it. Reopened it hoping the Holy Spirit and ChatGPT had collaborated while I was gone.

Fear Narrows Us

Eventually I recognized something important:

I was not stuck because I lacked ideas.

Fear had quietly taken up too much space.

Fear has a way of shrinking creativity. It narrows your vision until all you can see is the possibility of failure. You become outcome-focused instead of people-focused. Performance-focused instead of present.

Once I realized that, something began to shift.

Not instantly. Not through some giant revelation.

Little by little.

As I kept praying, reflecting, and trying to center myself not on my fear, but on what these women might genuinely need.

That became the turning point.

The workshop itself was based on my Life As Art process — the idea that life is not merely something that happens to you. It is something you can create.

Early in the session, I shared a story from my own life. Years ago, early in my coaching career, my mentor closed her business and left town. Suddenly I was on my own — and absolutely not convinced I was ready to run a coaching business by myself.

There were failures along the way. Starts and stops. I sought out new mentors and pursued advanced training with determination. There was financial stress, moments of self-doubt, and times I wanted to quit.

Little by little, I built a coaching practice that has now lasted 40 years.

That experience taught me something I still believe deeply:

Sometimes our greatest struggles become the very things that shape us into who we are becoming.

Or as I told the group:

Your Barrier Is Information

Your barriers are not your enemy. They are information.

We explored the barriers that often stop people from pursuing meaningful goals: perfectionism, overwhelm, fear, procrastination, uncertainty.

I shared that some barriers once protected us. But eventually protective patterns can become limiting ones — like an overgrown plant in too small a pot.

One example we explored was perfectionism.

The perfectionist often believes:
“I need to figure everything out before I begin.”

A healthier reframe might be:
“I can focus on the process, not just the outcome.”

We also talked about Agency — the ability to act, make wise choices, and operate from a place of personal responsibility rather than helplessness.

I shared honestly that while I had strong agency in building my business, there were seasons in my former marriage where I felt reactive, angry, helpless, and stuck. Sometimes barriers trigger old fears so deeply that we temporarily lose access to our strength and clarity.

And then something happened during the workshop that genuinely surprised me.

Permission to Pause

After some quiet reflection exercises, we placed the women into breakout groups of three with simple instructions:

No fixing.
No interrupting.
No advice-giving.

Just listen.

Each person had two minutes to share whatever they felt comfortable sharing — their goals, struggles, fears, or simply what they noticed about themselves during the reflection.

Honestly, I assumed most people would stay fairly guarded.

Instead, vulnerability filled the room.

These women showed up with remarkable honesty and courage.

When we returned to the larger group, several women immediately volunteered to share deeply personal reflections in front of everyone. Others filled the chat with honest admissions about exhaustion, fear, hope, uncertainty, and longing.

You could feel it.

Not perfection.

Not polished leadership.

Presence.

Humanity.

Relief.

Connection.

And that was the moment I realized something important:

The deepest value of the session was not simply the content I delivered.

It was the permission to pause.

To stop performing for a moment.

To reconnect with themselves.

To discover they were not alone in their struggles.

To realize their fears, barriers, and imperfections did not disqualify them from growth or leadership.

I left the session unexpectedly energized.

Hopeful, even.

Not because I had delivered the perfect workshop.

But because I witnessed something we desperately need more of right now:

Human beings telling the truth.

Listening deeply.

Encouraging one another.

And remembering that growth rarely happens in isolation.

Don’t Waste the Pause

I think this is one of the great invitations hidden inside pauses — whether it’s Memorial Day weekend, a retreat, a reflective conversation, or simply five quiet minutes before rushing into another meeting.

Don’t waste the pause.

The pause is often where clarity begins.

The pause is where fear softens enough for creativity to return.

The pause is where we remember what matters.

And sometimes, the pause is where we finally discover we are not nearly as alone as we thought.

As we closed the workshop, I encouraged the women to focus on the ONE thing they most wanted to pursue and to ask another person or two to support them over the next few months.

I do not know how many will actually do it.

But I know this:

I needed that reminder too.

And perhaps that is another beautiful truth about leadership.

Sometimes the people we hope to encourage end up encouraging us right back.

Leave a comment

After years of coaching leaders, I’ve come to believe that most people do not need more pressure, another leadership concept, or one more inspirational TED Talk.

They need space to pause.
To reflect.
To tell themselves the truth.
And to invite trusted people around them who can help reveal what they cannot see alone.

Over the years, I have watched leaders make remarkable changes—not primarily by learning how to manage others better, but by becoming more self-aware, more relationally connected, and more open to feedback, support, and growth.

Leaders Change When They Become More Self-Aware

One company president, known for her sharp and reactive communication style, began examining her own history, stress patterns, and values more honestly. In her drive for results, she unintentionally eroded the confidence of those around her. At first, she resisted the feedback, insisting people simply needed “thicker skin.” But after losing several talented employees, she began to realize the greater change required was within herself, not merely within those she criticized.

She focused on one goal: changing how she responded to her team in difficult moments.

Over time, she learned to recognize what was happening internally during stressful interactions. She became more intentional about pausing, regulating her reactions, and acting from her values rather than from adrenaline.

That one internal shift transformed the culture of her senior leadership team into the most cohesive and productive in the company’s history.

Growth Often Requires Letting Go of Control

Another founder and CEO had invested deeply for years in coaching, therapy, leadership development, and peer advisory groups. Yet one piece of feedback continued to surface from trusted peers: begin building a real succession plan.

At first, he resisted. Like many founders, he unconsciously equated succession planning with becoming less relevant. But eventually, he began to understand that succession was not about diminishing his leadership. It was about strengthening the organization beyond his individual capacity.

As he listened more carefully to the wisdom of others, he began building a stronger executive infrastructure around himself. Instead of carrying every major responsibility personally, he focused on leveraging his greatest strengths while empowering leaders whose capabilities complemented his own.

The result was transformative.

The company expanded significantly. Key leaders developed greater ownership and accountability. The organization became healthier, more scalable, and less dependent on one individual.

Ironically, by releasing control in certain areas, he increased both his effectiveness and his influence.

Fear Narrows People

Another executive, whose family background had shaped him toward defensiveness and aggression, struggled to deliver feedback without creating fear. As he developed greater emotional self-awareness, he learned to separate old patterns from present reality and intentionally practice new ways of relating to people.

Over time, the culture around him changed dramatically. People became more honest. Accountability improved. Communication became healthier. Eventually, his division began outperforming every other area of the company.

Fear narrows people.
Self-awareness expands them.

The Work Beneath the Surface

Real growth begins with the willingness to take an honest look at yourself, your relationships, your leadership, and your life.

That kind of work often involves receiving meaningful feedback, recognizing recurring patterns, clarifying values, and examining both where you have been and where you truly want to go.

Most leaders genuinely want to improve, yet many stay so focused on external demands and performance that they rarely slow down long enough to examine what may be limiting them internally.

Too often people wait for a crisis before engaging this deeper work: burnout, a painful performance review, a business setback, or a personal loss.

But meaningful growth does not require a crisis.

It requires honesty, reflection, and the courage to become more intentional about the person you are becoming.

Years ago, I created Life As Art as a resource for my coaching clients because I realized people needed more than goals and action plans. They needed a structured process for looking back, looking ahead, and understanding themselves at a deeper level.

At its core, Life As Art is built around a few simple ideas: reflection before action, emotional intelligence as practical wisdom, and the belief that small consistent steps shape meaningful lives over time.

Before You Set Another Goal

What kind of life am I actually creating?

• Am I moving with clarity or simply momentum?

• Am I building a life that reflects what matters most?

• What patterns do I need to understand before I try harder?

We do not create meaningful lives accidentally.

We create them slowly—through reflection, courage, attention, and the small daily choices that shape who we are becoming.

A New Website and an Old Truth

As part of this new season, I also recently launched a redesigned website. I’m especially grateful to Brandon, whose creative partnership and encouragement helped me shape both the new website and this updated version of Life As Art.

My hope is that both will serve as thoughtful resources for leaders and individuals who want to grow with greater intentionality, wisdom, and integrity.

I invite you to explore the new site, download the workbook, and perhaps consider one meaningful change you want to make in this next season of your life.

At the start of a coaching session recently, I asked a simple question:

“How are you doing?”

The client paused, looked at me, and said,

“Honestly… not too well.”

I smiled gently. “That sounds like a good topic for today.”

He looked exhausted—like sleep had been more of a suggestion than a reality.

“I am so behind I can’t see straight. How do people get it all done?”

He’s building a business, raising a young child, trying to be a present husband, stay healthy, nurture his spiritual life—and somehow get enough sleep to function.

He felt like he was the only one struggling.

He’s not.

The Real Problem Isn’t You

High-performing people carry a quiet assumption:

I should be able to handle all of this.

And when they can’t:

Something must be wrong with me.

But the issue isn’t your capability.

It’s your strategy.

I Learned This the Hard Way

Years ago, I was in a similar season—young child, growing business, traveling spouse, and a constant sense of being behind.

Naturally, I did what any motivated person would do:

• Read the books

• Gathered the ideas

• Tried harder

And yet, nothing really changed.

Not because the ideas were wrong.

Because I wasn’t applying them in a way that worked in real life.

The One Change That Made the Difference

Eventually, I committed to one simple practice:

I planned my week—every Monday morning at 5:00 a.m.

Uninterrupted. Non-negotiable.

Not glamorous. But surprisingly powerful.

Why It Worked

As a young mother, my mornings were spoken for the moment my daughter woke up—breakfast, getting dressed, lunches, getting out the door (always taking longer than expected).

By the time I got home, I already felt behind.

What matters most today? What even is my plan?

From there, it was all reaction:
emails, phone calls, whatever felt most urgent.

By the end of the day, I was busy—but not particularly effective.

So I tried something different.

I got up earlier than everyone else.

It gave me what I now think of as “bonus time.”

Time to think.
Time to prioritize.
Time to decide what actually mattered.

Instead of starting my week in reaction, I started it with intention.

I moved from:

• reactive → intentional

• overwhelmed → focused

• scattered → clear

And as a bonus, my daughter got a mom who was (mostly) present when she woke up.

Mostly. Let’s stay honest.

Of course, it wasn’t perfect:

• Some mornings the alarm didn’t go off

• Some mornings someone was sick

• Some mornings one of us was in an ugly mood

Because that’s life.

You adjust.

Why Most Systems Fail

When we feel overwhelmed, our instinct is to:

• do more

• fix everything

• find the “perfect” system

That usually backfires.

What works is much simpler:

Find one leverage point that creates clarity and control.

For me, it was weekly planning.

For others, I’ve seen it look like:

• Delegating responsibilities at home

• Restructuring the workweek

• Training a team to take more ownership

• Work from home one day a week

• Eliminating one unnecessary commitment

• Even something as simple (and radical) as going to the gym at lunch

Different solutions—same principle:

One thoughtful change can unlock everything else.

Plan Like a Realist, Not an Idealist

Planning isn’t about controlling your week.

It’s about preparing for reality.

Your plan is the map.
Your week is the territory.

And the territory will change.

I remember a time management trainer who insisted we always plan in pencil with a good eraser.

(For those of us who remember paper time management planners in leather portfolios, this felt very advanced.)

Why?

Because things change.

So instead of rigid perfection, aim for:

• Margin: Don’t fill every hour

• Adjustment: Revisit your plan daily

• Focus: Use time blocks as a guide, not a cage

A Note for Every Season

And for those of you in a different season of life—you may be feeling this in your own way.

This isn’t just a young parent or early-career challenge. It shows up at every stage.

For me, I still wake up early on Mondays and plan my week. It’s a simple rhythm, but it continues to ground me and create clarity for my days.

Recently, a retired executive shared—with some vulnerability—that she’s been in her new home for three years… and still hasn’t fully unpacked.

She felt embarrassed saying it out loud.

But her struggle is real.

Different season. Same dynamic.

So if you’re feeling unsatisfied with how you’re spending your time—or more accurately, how you’re managing yourself—I invite you to pause and consider:

What is one thing you could change that would make this better?

Not perfect.

Just better.

My favorite author on the topic of doing life well and stewarding your time is the late Stephen Covey. If you’ve never read The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People or Put First Things First (a full book on Habit 3), check it out.

"The key is not to prioritize what's on your schedule, but to schedule your priorities." — Stephen Covey

Final Thought

You cannot manage time.

You can only manage yourself—your focus, your energy, your choices.

And often, the breakthrough you’re looking for isn’t found in doing more—

It’s found in doing one thing differently.

Here’s to finding your one thing—and letting it change more than you expect.

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My mother was Kitty Siciliano.

She wore black cat-eye glasses with rhinestones and, for most of my childhood, had platinum blonde hair—set once a week at the hairdresser and sprayed into place so it wouldn’t move. At night, she wrapped it in toilet paper and wore a little cap to bed to preserve her bouffant.

This was the 60s. This was normal.

I didn’t think much of it then.
Now I smile just picturing it.

I live at the beach now, and I am forever grateful to my mother for that.

Kitty took us—my two sisters and me—to the beach almost every day in the summer. Not before we made our beds, cleaned up breakfast, packed our lunches, and helped plan dinner. Then we’d pile into the car and head to Jones Beach, to the same stretch of sand at Zach’s Bay, where her circle of friends gathered like clockwork.

She had a gift for friendship. Not just having friends—but enjoying them.

There was always laughter. Always a sense that life was meant to be lived, not just managed.

Her friends were a mix—some her age, some not. One woman, also named Kitty, stood out to me as a child. She wore gold lamé bikinis, backless shoes, and strutted past the lifeguards like she was on a runway. I was mortified.

My mother? She thought she was fabulous.

That tells you a lot about Kitty.

As a teenager, I was less charmed.

On Saturday mornings, when all I wanted was sleep, I’d hear her on the phone—loud, animated, right outside my door. It drove me crazy.

Like most daughters, I went through my season of separating… pushing… figuring out who I was apart from her.

She would say, “When you have your own daughter, you’ll understand.”

I didn’t believe her.

Of course, she was right.

The day my daughter Julia was born, I knew I was in trouble.

The composed, career-focused woman I thought I was… dissolved. I became emotional, tender, completely undone by love. It was the happiest day of my life.

Later, through marriage, I was given another gift—a “bonus” daughter, Jeaneen, a son-in-law, Cosmo and a grand-son, Connor.

And somewhere along the way, I began to understand my mother in a way I never could as a young woman.

There is something about a mother’s love that, even now, catches in my throat.

My mother died too early—at 62.
Julia never got to meet her.

That has always made me a little sad.

We spoke of her often, though. We called her “Grandma Kitty,” and I tried to bring her to life through stories.

One day, when Julia was about five, we were on an airplane. She looked out the window and said, very matter-of-factly,
“I think I just saw Grandma Kitty saying hello from heaven.”

And somehow… I think she did.

Mom, I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time when I was trying to find myself.

You died before I could fully appreciate you as an adult.

But I remember.

I remember how much you loved me—not just in the big things like those endless beach days, but in the quiet, consistent ways.

You showed me how to be a friend.
How to welcome people.
How to create a home that felt alive.

You loved your husband well. I watched you light up when my dad came home—fresh lipstick, joy in your voice, respect in your presence. That shaped me more than I realized at the time.

And I loved that you had your own life.

Wednesday night poker in the basement—with a real poker table, whiskey sours with little umbrellas, and you in a green poker visor—was legendary. You laughed. You played. You didn’t make your world small.

You were devoted to us.
But you were not defined only by us.

And that, too, was a gift.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to believe something we don’t say enough:

We don’t get perfect parents.
We get real ones.

And maturity—emotional, relational, even spiritual maturity—is learning to hold the whole story.

The love.
The limitations.
The things we wish had been different.

Honoring our parents doesn’t mean pretending everything was ideal.
It means choosing to see clearly… and still be grateful for what was given.

There’s something else I’ve come to understand over time.

When we lose our mothers—or when the relationship was incomplete in some way—life has a way of offering us something unexpected.

Women.

Friends.

The ones who show up in different seasons and, often without realizing it, meet us right where we need it most.

Some are mothers. Some are not.
But they carry a kind of maternal presence nonetheless.

They listen.
They tell the truth.
They celebrate us—and when necessary, they give us the gentle (or not-so-gentle) nudge to grow up, step up, or move forward.

I’ve had women and men in my life who have done all of that for me.

They have offered wisdom, perspective, laughter, and at times, a well-timed kick in the pants—something my mother would have fully appreciated.

And I am deeply grateful.

Because while no one replaces a mother…
there is something profoundly comforting in realizing that we are not left without guidance, without care, without love.

Sometimes it just comes in a different form.

To those of you reading this—your story may look different.

Some of you had mothers who loved you beautifully.
Some of you didn’t.
Most of us live somewhere in between.

But if you can, over time, do the work of understanding… of integrating… of honoring what was good without denying what was hard… something shifts.

You become freer.
And you pass something better on.

To my children,

Being your mother, step-mother and grandmother has been one of the greatest privileges of my life.

If I’ve given you anything of value, I hope it’s this:

You were deeply loved.
Not perfectly—but truly.

And I am happy to see you are building lives that are full—of love, friendship, joy, and purpose. Lives that are bigger than any one role… and grounded in what matters most.

Mom… this one’s for you.

Not because it was perfect.
But because it was ours.

We don’t get perfect parents. We get real ones.
And over time, we learn what it means to honor them—with truth, with grace, and with gratitude.

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The more pressure people feel to perform, the more self-focused they become—
and the less influence they actually have.

I see this pattern often in high-performing professionals.

And if I’m honest, I’ve lived it.

When Pressure Turns Inward

Under stress, even the most capable professionals drift into what I would call paranoia—not in the clinical sense, but in a leadership sense.

It sounds like this:

How am I coming across?
Why are they responding to her and not me?
What do I need to do to prove myself?

The focus narrows.
Energy turns inward.

And influence quietly slips away.

Where This Idea Came From

I heard the phrase metanoia vs. paranoia this past Sunday in a sermon by Rev. Karl Burns. He later shared that the idea traces back to Henri Nouwen, who used metanoia to describe a deep turning—a shift of mind and heart.

While rooted in theology, the idea translates powerfully into leadership:

A shift from self-focus to something larger than yourself.

You don’t have to be religious to recognize the difference.

We’ve all felt it—
the constriction of self-consciousness…
and the freedom of being fully present and contributing.

A Story I Know All Too Well

Early in my career, I was a young manager in a highly competitive non-profit environment—ironically, one dedicated to transforming lives.

We were under constant pressure to hit enrollment targets. Every day mattered.

There was a colleague at my same level.

She seemed to glide through her day. Never missed her nail appointment.
She spoke up in meetings—and people listened. She was affirmed. Respected.

Even when she missed a target, she didn’t defend or unravel. She acknowledged it—and moved on.

I, on the other hand, was working just as hard—arguably harder.
Meeting my targets. Carrying more responsibility.

But I wasn’t experienced the same way.

I felt overlooked. Corrected. Compared.

And slowly, something shifted in me—but not in a good way.

I became fixated on her.

Comparing.
Resenting.
Trying to outwork the gap.

The more I pulled on that thread, the tighter it got—like one of those Chinese Finger Traps you can’t escape.

No amount of effort fixed it.

I burned out…
and eventually left—with a bad taste in my mouth.

What I Couldn’t See Then

It’s only years later that I can see it clearly:

I had become my own worst enemy.

My attention was locked inward—
on proving, performing, protecting.

Not on contributing.
Not on the room.
Not on others.

What Changed

In my next role, I worked for a woman who helped me change.

She did something simple—and profound.

She affirmed me.
But more importantly, she redirected me.

Away from self-protection…
and toward my strengths.
Toward contribution.

Around that same time, I immersed myself in learning—books, leadership development, deeper personal work.

And I came to understand something that has stayed with me ever since:

You can only take people as far as you’ve come.

If I wanted to truly impact others, I had to do my own work.

There were no shortcuts.

Some insights came quickly.
But real change—the kind that shows up under pressure—took time.

And practice.
And humility.

The Leadership Shift

Looking back, the difference between me and the colleague I envied wasn’t talent.

It was orientation.

She was outward-focused.
Grounded. Present.

I was inward-focused.
Evaluating. Striving. Tight.

That’s the shift:

Metanoia is the move from self-focus to contribution.

In meetings, it looks like:

• Listening for what’s needed—not what proves you

• Building on others instead of competing with them

• Asking questions that move things forward

• Letting go of perfect—and choosing helpful

Small shifts.

But over time, they change everything.

Why This Matters

As Daniel Goleman has shown, when we are stressed, our ability to access empathy, perspective, and connection narrows.

You can’t be fully influential when you’re internally flooded.

That’s not weakness.

It’s human.

And it’s trainable.

A Leadership Reflection

Where does your attention go under pressure?

Do you become more:

• self-aware… or self-conscious?

• focused… or guarded?

• driven… or disconnected?

And what would it look like to make one small shift—

from proving…
to contributing?

Closing Thought

Career growth is often framed as gaining more—more skill, more visibility, more results.

But some of the most important growth happens in a quieter way.

A turning.

Again and again.

Away from self-protection…
and toward presence.
Toward contribution.
Toward something larger than your own performance.

Those moments won’t look dramatic.

But over time, they shape how others experience you—
and who you become.

And sometimes, the very struggles we wish we could avoid…

become the ones that lead us there.

“The leaders who grow are not the ones who focus on themselves the most—
but the ones who learn, over time, to move beyond themselves.”

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I’ve watched highly paid executive teams sit in the same room—and avoid saying the one thing that would actually make them better.

Not because they aren’t smart.
But because they’re careful. Polite. Guarded.

And underneath all of that?
Unspoken frustration.

Teams are messy.
They’re also your greatest untapped asset.

We spend enormous energy on strategy, KPIs, and growth plans.
But here’s the quieter truth:

The quality of your team’s conversations determines the quality of your results.

A Moment I Don’t Forget

Years ago, I was facilitating a retreat for a senior leadership team.

Strong personalities. Smart people. High stakes.

On the surface, everything looked solid. They were aligned on strategy, hitting numbers, saying the right things.

But as we spent more time together, I could feel it—
a kind of polite distance.

So I introduced a structured feedback exercise.

Simple. Direct. A little uncomfortable.

As they began sharing—face to face, no scripts, no hiding—the room shifted.

One leader said quietly,
“I’ve never told you this before, but when you shut down ideas quickly, I stop bringing mine.”

You could feel the air change.

No explosion.
No drama.

Just truth—finally spoken.

That conversation did more for that team than any strategy session we had that year.

What Actually Gets in the Way

It’s rarely a lack of talent.

It’s what’s not being said.

Unspoken concerns.
Carefully avoided feedback.
Assumptions that never get checked.

Over time, silence becomes expensive.

As Patrick Lencioni makes clear, teams don’t fail because they lack intelligence—they fail because they lack trust.

Without trust, people avoid conflict.
Without conflict, there’s no real commitment.
And without commitment, accountability fades.

What the Best Teams Do Differently

High-performing teams don’t avoid hard conversations.

They build the capacity to have them well.

Research on emotional intelligence from Daniel Goleman and leadership principles from Stephen Covey point to the same foundation:

Self-awareness + honest communication = trust.

And trust changes everything.

A Simple (But Not Easy) Exercise That Changes Teams

Here’s one of the most powerful exercises I use with executive teams:

Each person writes a message to every other team member:

• What I genuinely appreciate about you

• The unique contributions you bring

• What I’d like you to do more of, less of, or stop doing

No sarcasm. No vague language. No avoidance.

If there’s a deeper issue, it’s named—but handled separately and thoughtfully.

Then comes the part most teams avoid:

They sit down eyeball to eyeball, knee to knee, and deliver the message directly.

The Ground Rules Make It Work

Beforehand, we set the tone:

• Speak with truth and grace

• Be specific, not general

• Stay grounded in respect

And when receiving feedback:

• No defending

• No explaining

• No interrupting

Just:

“Thank you for sharing.”

Where the Real Shift Happens

Afterward, each person reflects:

• What themes am I hearing?

• Where am I strong?

• Where am I missing the mark?

Then they commit to one meaningful change.

Not a list.
Not intentions.

One.

Because change doesn’t happen in theory.
It happens in behavior.

Why This Works

It addresses what most teams quietly avoid:

• The gap between intention and impact

• The cost of politeness over honesty

• The human need to be both valued and challenged

When people feel seen—and told the truth—
defensiveness drops.

Clarity rises.
Respect deepens.

And performance follows.

A Final Thought

Most leaders try to improve performance by pushing harder on results.

But results are downstream.

If you want a better team, start with better conversations.

Because when people tell each other the truth—with courage and respect—
you don’t just improve communication.

You unlock the performance that was already there.

Leadership Reflection

Where might I be choosing comfort over candor with my team?

How is my leadership shaping what gets said—and what stays silent?

Do the people on my team feel both valued—and safe enough to tell me the truth?

What conversation—if handled well—could change everything?

And what would it look like to take one small step toward that conversation this week?

Most people don’t need more learning—they need more reps.

I was reminded of that in the most unexpected place… a two-day oil painting class.

At one point, my instructor shared something her students often ask:
“What does it take to go from being a beginner to becoming a professional artist?”

Her answer was simple. Almost disarmingly so.

“Paint every day. Use a small 4x6 panel. Number each painting 1–100. When you reach 100, come back and we’ll review your progress together. And by the way—stop taking workshops if you’re not putting the daily practice into action.”

Ouch. (In the best way.)

That landed squarely on me.

For three years, I’ve faithfully attended monthly art workshops. I love them. I learn a lot. I leave inspired.

And then… I don’t paint.

Not because I don’t have time.

But because it feels uncomfortable.

I feel a little lost.
I don’t want to confront my own ineptness.

The blank canvas.
The messy paints.
The clean-up.

And especially that moment…
when what I create looks nothing like what I imagined.

It’s disappointing.

Seeing how child-like my efforts look.

Like this church spire that somehow turned into a cartoon top hat.

Painting at this level feels… exposing.

And I’d rather stay in the safety of learning than risk being bad.

Where in your life are you playing it safe to avoid looking bad?

So now, I’m on a mission: 100 paintings.

Not masterpieces.
Not frameable.
Not Instagram-worthy.

Just… paint.

Every day.

I’m letting go of “Is it good?” and replacing it with “Did I show up?”

What Actually Changed

Once I committed, I realized something important:

Motivation is overrated. Environment matters more.

So I made a few simple changes:

• I stopped worrying about the mess

• I pulled my supplies out where I could see them

• I made it easy to begin

And one constraint changed everything:

Forty minutes.

That’s it.

Forty minutes gets me started.
Forty minutes keeps me consistent.

And consistency, it turns out, is where the path to mastery lives.

The Leadership Lesson

I see this all the time with my clients.

Brilliant, capable leaders—
reading, learning, attending workshops…

And still feeling stuck in some significant part of their life or work.

Not because they aren’t trying.

But because they haven’t turned insight into practice.

And more importantly…

They haven’t been honest about why they’re avoiding the practice.

So let me ask you:

Where are you “taking workshops”… but not painting?

Where are you avoiding the reps?

Maybe it’s asking your team for real feedback.

You want your meetings to be more engaging, more effective.
You’ve read the books. You’ve hired the coach.

But to improve, you’d have to ask:

“What’s not working?”

And then… listen.

You might hear:

• “You talk too much.”

• “You don’t really listen.”

• “These meetings feel repetitive.”

That could sting.

So instead… you stay where you are.

Your Version of the Challenge

Pick one area where you are stuck - this is not just for corporate leaders - maybe it’s around your health or your spiritual life. Maybe you are seeing a counselor but not taking significant action on a key issue that’s holding you back.

One area,

Not five. Not someday.

One.

Make it small.
Make it daily.
Make it just uncomfortable enough that you might avoid it.

And then… do it anyway.

Because here’s what I’m learning:

You don’t become who you want to be by thinking about it.
Or reading about it.
Or even understanding it.

You become that person… by practicing.

The life you want isn’t built in grand gestures—it’s painted, one small stroke at a time.

A Longer View

My daughter Julia recently sent me a quote she saw next to a Matisse drawing.

After fifty years of work, he wrote:

“For a year now I’ve been making an enormous effort in drawing. I say effort but that’s a mistake, because what occurred is a floraison (flowering) after fifty years of effort.”

A flowering.

Not instant. Not dramatic.
But something that emerges… after years of showing up.

A Gentle Challenge

Pick your “painting.”

Make it small.
Make it daily.
Make it uncomfortable.

And begin.

You don’t need more information.
You need a canvas.

A year from now, you won’t wish you had learned more.
You’ll wish you had started sooner.

If this hits close to home, you’re exactly who I write for. Join me for practical, honest insights on growth, leadership, and the inner work that actually creates change.

I read something recently that stopped me in my tracks.

A man serving time in prison described how he rebuilt his life from the inside out.
Not when he got out.
While he was still inside.

He became a better husband.
A better man.
A different person.

“A person with a growth mindset sees failure not as evidence of unintelligence but as a starting point for learning and inspiration.”
— Carol Dweck, author of Mindset

It struck me:

Some people wait for life to change…
and others let life change them.

A Better Question Than “What Age Am I?”

I’ve always liked birthdays.

Maybe because I was the youngest in my family and couldn’t wait to grow up.
Now, as a proud, Social Security–card-carrying boomer, I find myself asking a different question:

What if aging isn’t decline… but development?

Not a slow fade.
But a long apprenticeship in becoming.

Anaïs Nin captured it beautifully:

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud
was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

Every decade invites us to open further—if we’re willing.

The Shift Most People Miss

We’ve been taught to think of adulthood like a checklist:

Be responsible.
Be productive.
Keep it together.

But what if adulthood is actually:

An ongoing process of becoming.

Becoming more:

• self-aware

• grounded

• wise

• generous

• free

Over time—if we let it—life softens our reactivity, deepens our perspective, and expands our capacity to love.

But it doesn’t happen automatically.

Growth is available. Not inevitable.

You Are Participating—Whether You Realize It or Not

We are not just living our lives.
We are forming a self.

Every reaction.
Every disappointment.
Every success.
Every quiet decision no one else sees.

It’s all shaping someone.

The real question is:

Are you becoming someone you actually want to be?

When Life Broke Open—And I Chose to Grow

I learned this lesson the hard way.

I had just turned 50 and was going through a divorce after 17 years of marriage.

We had both tried—hard—to make it work.
But it was over. And we were both heartbroken.

With the help of our pastor, we navigated a respectful separation. We divided assets fairly, shared custody of our 15-year-old daughter, and did our best to protect what mattered most.

Still… it was painful.
Especially for her.

And for me, beneath the calm exterior I presented to the world, I felt anything but steady.

I was running a coaching business—guiding other leaders—while privately feeling raw, exposed, and unsure of my own future.

That was the moment I came face-to-face with a powerful truth:

Agency.

The ability to say:

I may not control what has happened to me…
but I will choose my response.

Stephen Covey helped bring this idea into the mainstream: the difference between living reactively and living proactively—between being shaped by life or shaping it. He said:

“Response-ability” is the ability to choose your response. Highly proactive people don’t blame circumstances, conditions, or conditioning for their behavior. Instead, they choose their actions consciously, guided by their values rather than driven by their feelings.

What Agency Actually Looks Like

It didn’t look impressive.

It looked like showing up.

• I found a counselor

• I joined a divorce recovery group

• I chose not to date

• I committed to healing—even when it hurt

Then I joined a weekly group studying the work of Townsend and Cloud.
Every Monday night. For three years.

Not because I was disciplined—
but because I was desperate.

I began to understand my patterns.

I realized, in the words of Henry Cloud, “my picker was broken.”

Growing up feeling rejected by my father, I had spent years choosing relationships that repeated that wound.

That realization was painful.
And freeing.

Because if I could see it—
I could begin to change it.

Carlos Castaneda said it plainly:

“We can make ourselves miserable or we can make ourselves strong.
The amount of work is the same.”

The Work No One Sees

Those years were quiet.
Messy.
Often lonely.

I felt shame.
I worried about my future.
I questioned whether I would ever feel “normal” again.

But I stayed with it.

I went to several different healing workshops that helped me grow emotionally and spiritually.
I journaled.
I prayed in the early morning hours—honest, unfiltered prayers.

Sometimes asking for healing.
Sometimes asking for strength.
And sometimes surrendering the very thing I wanted most.

“If not this… then change me.”

That may have been the most important prayer I ever prayed.

Because it shifted me from waiting for life to give me something…
to allowing life to transform me into someone.

Elizabeth Kübler-Ross reminds us:

“Learn to get in touch with the silence within yourself
and know that everything in this life has a purpose.”

What Changed

Not overnight.

But gradually… steadily… deeply…

• My anxiety softened

• My emotional stability returned

• My sense of self became clearer and stronger

I was no longer just hoping for a better future.

I was becoming a different person.

A New Chapter—But Not the Point

Three years later, after real healing and growth, I felt ready.

I met my husband, Rod, in a thoughtful, intentional way.
We built our relationship slowly.
We married ten months later.

We’ve now been happily married for over 20 years.

But here’s what I want to be clear about:

The real transformation didn’t happen when I met him.

It happened in the years before.

Note to my readers:
I have walked alongside many courageous individuals who did the hard, humble work—seeking counsel, leaning into support, and praying with perseverance—and I have seen marriages beautifully restored. I want to be clear: divorce is not the only path. In fact, a redeemed and renewed marriage often carries a depth of joy, intimacy, and meaning that is profoundly worth fighting for.

Why This Matters

Because it would be easy to tell that story as:

“Everything worked out in the end.”

But that’s not the point.

The point is this:

I didn’t wait for my life to change.
I chose to engage with it.

To heal.
To grow.
To take responsibility for my patterns.
To become someone different.

That is agency.

And it is available to every one of us.

The Myth of “It’s Too Late”

I work with leaders in their 40s, 50s, 60s, and beyond.

Here’s what I see:

• The 45-year-old asking, “Is this all there is?”

• The 55-year-old who has achieved everything—and feels restless

• The 63-year-old quietly wondering what’s next

• The 70-year-old finally accessing creativity they never allowed

Different ages. Same invitation.

Grow… or coast.

And coasting has a cost.

What If This Season Is the Assignment?

We resist the very things that could transform us:

• The plateau

• The disappointment

• The loss

• The unanswered question

But what if these are not interruptions?

What if they are the curriculum?

You don’t need a new life to become a new person.

Don’t just think about this—act on it.

Choose one area of your life right now where you’ve been waiting, avoiding, or hoping things will change on their own.

And instead, ask:

• What is one honest truth I’ve been ignoring?

• What is one step I know I need to take?

• Who could help me move forward?

Then take action—today.

Not perfectly.
Not dramatically.

Just deliberately.

Because the life you want isn’t built in big moments.

It’s shaped in the small, courageous decisions you make next.

If you’re at a transition point and want support thinking this through, this is exactly the kind of work I do with leaders every day.

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Final Thought

We don’t control all of our circumstances.

But we do participate in who we become inside them.

And that changes everything.

You may not get a new life—
but you can become a new person inside the one you already have.

The day before Thanksgiving, 1990, I signed the lease for my very first office.

It felt bold. Courageous. Like a real step forward.

That same day, one of my best clients called to cancel.
His business was struggling—and just like that, so was mine.

Suddenly, I no longer had a full book of clients…
and I was facing a lease I wasn’t sure I could pay.

At home, the pressure wasn’t any lighter. My husband was in real estate during an uncertain market, and between a new mortgage and my new office, fear started creeping in.

“In a very real sense we have two minds, one that thinks and one that feels.”
— Daniel Goleman

That night, after everyone had gone to bed, I sat alone in the quiet.

And if I’m honest—I wasn’t steady.

My mind was racing.
My confidence felt thin.
The future looked uncertain in a way I couldn’t quickly fix.

I remember thinking, I may have made a mistake I can’t undo.

There was no plan that made everything okay.
No immediate solution.

Just… the reality of where things stood.

And yet, in that space—without anything changing on the outside—something inside me began to settle.

Not all at once.
Not dramatically.

But enough.

Enough to take a breath.
Enough to stop trying to solve everything at once.
Enough to believe I could take the next step… even without knowing the outcome.

That was the beginning of hope.

Looking back, that night didn’t resolve my situation.
But it began forming something in me I didn’t yet have the language for—

the capacity to stay present, even when I couldn’t see the way forward.

The most compelling leaders I’ve had the privilege of knowing don’t sound like:
“I figured it out.”

They sound like:
“I went through something real—and here’s what changed in me.”

Every leader faces moments where:

• the numbers don’t add up

• the people aren’t cooperating

• the future feels uncertain

But not all leaders respond the same way.

Some shut down.
Some grasp for control.
Some quietly disengage.

“When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.”
— Viktor Frankl

Others—stay steady.

Not because it’s easy.

But because, over time, they’ve developed the kind of character that can hold hope under pressure.

They can:

• Stay connected instead of isolating

• Face reality without collapsing into fear

• Take responsibility without self-condemnation

• Keep showing up, even when outcomes are unclear

That’s not talent.

That’s formation.

The Pitfalls When Hope Is Lost

After decades of coaching leaders, I’ve seen this pattern again and again:

Stress narrows your field of vision.

It’s a natural response to loss, uncertainty, and unmet expectations.
But when stress is high and hope is low, your perspective shrinks.

You stop seeing clearly.

You’re no longer taking in the full picture.
You miss creative solutions—
and even new possibilities that may already be available to you.

In those moments, two things become clear:

• What you’re made of

• What you’re hoping in

I’m reminded of a simple but profound line from Alcoholics Anonymous:

“Your mind is a dangerous place—don’t go in there alone.”

A Framework That Helps

One of the ways I help leaders understand their current capacity is through the TPRAT (Townsend Personal and Relational Assessment Tool), which identifies four core areas of character:

• Attachment – staying connected to God and others under stress

• Separation – holding boundaries and clarity of responsibility

• Integration – tolerating pain, disappointment, and complexity

• Adulthood – acting with ownership, purpose, and courage

These capacities matter—not because they make you impressive—

But because they make you resilient enough to sustain hope.

If you can’t stay connected, hope fades.
If you can’t tolerate difficulty, hope collapses.
If you can’t take action, hope stalls.

Character is what holds hope in place.

The Invitation

That night years ago, nothing in my circumstances changed immediately.

The lease was still there.
The client was still gone.

But something in me shifted.

I stopped trying to carry the future alone.

And that changed how I showed up the next day…
and the next…
and the next.

That’s what hope does.

It doesn’t remove the weight.

It gives you the strength—and the reason—to keep carrying it.

A Faith Perspective: The Ultimate Picture of Character and Hope

As we enter Holy Week, we see the clearest picture of this truth.

Jesus faced:

• Betrayal

• Loss of control

• Injustice

• Suffering beyond comprehension

And yet—

He did not withdraw.
He did not panic.
He did not abandon His purpose.

He stayed connected.
He stayed surrendered.
He stayed faithful.

That is hope.

Not the absence of pain—
but the presence of something deeper than it.

A certainty that what God is doing is greater than what we can see.

“The theme of hope is always about the future. That’s where you want to sow your seeds.”
— John Townsend

Where Is Your Hope Right Now?

If you’re honest, where does your hope come from today?

• A result working out?

• A person not disappointing you?

• Your own ability to figure things out?

Or something more solid?

Because leadership will eventually strip away anything fragile.

And what remains—

is what you’re truly anchored in.

A Simple Reflection for This Week

• Where is pressure revealing something about my character?

• When things feel uncertain, where do I turn first?

• Am I trying to carry this alone?

Closing Thought

Most leaders focus on outcomes.
The best ones build the inner capacity to endure uncertainty—and lead through it.

— Elaine Morris

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Most executives don’t fail because they lack goals—they fail because they try to achieve them alone.

By now, your highest priority goals thoughtfully created at your corporate retreat are either quietly working… or quietly fading.

And your personal resolutions? (schedule boundaries, time working out, quiet time to plan…)

Spring has a way of telling the truth.

The early motivation is gone.
The calendar is full again.
And the gap between what we intended—and how we’re actually leading—becomes harder to ignore.

This is why the most effective executives don’t push harder this time of year.

They reset.

Not with more pressure—but with more clarity, sharper focus, and the right support.

A Personal Turning Point

Early in my coaching career, I faced a moment that shaped everything that followed.

I had spent two years working under a highly respected leadership coach—someone I admired deeply. She opened doors for me and helped me begin working with executive clients.

Then one day, she told me she was closing her practice and moving out of state.

Just like that, I was on my own.

I remember thinking:
I’m not ready.
Who am I to do this alone?

But there was no perfect moment coming.

I had to decide:
Would I step forward—or stay dependent?

That season required me to do what I now help executives do every day:

• Clarify what truly mattered

• Face uncertainty without avoidance

• Build the structure and support needed to move forward

It wasn’t about gaining confidence first.

It was about taking the next step—with the right support in place.

Looking back, I can say this with certainty:
I would not have succeeded without the wise and trusted coaches in my own life.

That’s the power of coaching.

Coaching: From Intention to Execution

Executives don’t come to coaching for inspiration.

They come for results.

A strong coach helps you:

• Cut through competing priorities

• Align your goals with how you actually lead

• Translate vision into disciplined execution

• Stay accountable under pressure

And most importantly—coaching addresses the whole leader.

Because leadership performance is never isolated from your energy, your relationships, or your clarity of mind.

Case Study: Better Leadership, Better Life

One executive I coached came in with a clear business objective:

Build a more accountable, self-sufficient team.

But beneath that was a deeper need:

Work less, lead at a higher level, and be more present at home.

Through coaching, she:

• Shifted from doing to developing her team

• Delegated with clarity and confidence

• Elevated her focus to strategic leadership

The result:

• Stronger ownership across her team

• Increased trust and accountability

• More time and energy for her family

• Recognition from her CEO for her strategic impact

One focused shift—executed well—transformed both her leadership and her life.

Case Study: Performance Through White Space

Another executive came in successful—but depleted.

His goal was deceptively simple:

Create white space for thinking, health, and renewal.

He:

• Restructured his calendar

• Set clearer boundaries

• Prioritized recovery and reflection

As Peter Drucker said:

“Follow effective action with quiet reflection. From the quiet reflection will come even more effective action.”

What changed wasn’t just his schedule—it was his leadership.

He became:

• More creative

• Less reactive

• More engaging and present

And his team responded.

Because when a leader changes how they show up, everything around them shifts.

The Hidden Lever: Feedback

One of the most powerful accelerators in executive coaching is 360-degree feedback.

One leader I worked with had made meaningful progress:

• More self-aware

• Less reactive

• A stronger listener

His team affirmed the change.

But they also said:
“We can’t always tell what you’re thinking.”

In trying to be less reactive, he had become less clear.

As Edgar Schein reminds us:

“The only thing of real importance that leaders do is to create and manage culture.”

Clarity matters.

That single insight allowed him to adjust—maintaining empathy while increasing transparency.

Not more change.
Better change.

Why Coaching Works at the Executive Level

At senior levels, the challenge isn’t effort.

It’s perspective.

You don’t need more information.
You need:

• Clearer insight

• Honest feedback

• Focused priorities

• Consistent accountability

As Eric Schmidt said:

“The best advice I ever got was to get a coach.”

Coaching gives you the space to think, refine, and execute at a higher level.

A Smarter Spring Reset

Instead of adding more goals, refine what matters most:

1. Leadership Impact
Where do you need to grow to lead more effectively?

2. Personal Sustainability
What ensures you have the energy to lead well?

3. Integration
What one change could improve both your work and your life?

And then ask the question most leaders avoid:

Who will help you follow through?

Final Thought

The most successful executives I know don’t rely on willpower.

They build support around their goals.

Because transformation doesn’t happen in isolation.

It happens in partnership.

🎨 Leadership Reflection: Life As Art

Spring invites you to step back—and look at the canvas of your life.

Not your intentions.
Not your plans.
But what you are actually creating.

Because whether you realize it or not…

You are always creating something.

Pause and reflect:

• What is the tone of my life right now—hurried, purposeful, fragmented, aligned?

• Where am I overdeveloped—and where am I neglected?

• What patterns are shaping my leadership without intention?

• Where do I need perspective I don’t currently have?

Now re-choose your design:

• Who do I want to become in this next season?

• What would a more integrated life look like?

• What one shift would elevate both my leadership and my life?

And most importantly:

Who is helping me create it?

🔹 A Simple Practice

Choose one element of your life canvas to refine this spring.

Not five. Just one.

Then decide:

• What needs to change

• What support you will put in place

• The first step you will take this week

Because your life is not a finished product.

It is a work of art in progress.

And great leaders don’t leave that to chance.

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Why do people follow some leaders…
while others struggle to inspire even the most capable teams?

It’s rarely just strategy, authority, or intelligence.

Two thousand five hundred years ago, a government official named Nehemiah demonstrated a leadership style so effective that under impossible conditions, people followed him.

And the way he did it looks surprisingly modern.

As I studied the book of Nehemiah this week, I couldn’t help noticing how modern his leadership feels.

His story is more than ancient history. It reads like a masterclass in leadership — the kind of qualities we celebrate today in the best leadership books and executive coaching programs.

Nehemiah wasn’t a general.
He wasn’t a king.
He wasn’t even a religious leader.

He was a government official — the king’s cupbearer — living a comfortable life in the Persian court.

Yet somehow he inspired an exhausted, discouraged people to rebuild an entire city wall in just 52 days.

How did he do it?

Five leadership qualities stand out.

Strength With a Tender Heart

My former pastor, Chuck Swindoll, once called Nehemiah the “John Wayne of biblical characters.”

Strong. Courageous. Decisive.

But what struck me most was something else.

His emotional awareness.

When Nehemiah learned that Jerusalem was still in ruins — its walls broken, its people vulnerable and ashamed — he didn’t immediately jump into action.

He wept.

Scripture says he mourned, fasted, and prayed for days.

He allowed himself to feel the grief.

That kind of emotional honesty is something modern leadership research increasingly affirms: the best leaders are not numb to suffering — they are moved by it.

And if we’re honest, many of us feel this tension.

Sometimes the suffering in the world overwhelms us.

Wars. Disasters. Violence. Injustice.

Other times we feel guilty because we are living comfortable lives while so many others are struggling.

Nehemiah models something powerful here.

He didn’t numb out.
He didn’t rush past the pain.

He let his heart break for what breaks God’s heart.

And from that place of compassion, his leadership began.

If your emotional abilities aren’t in hand… your intellect isn’t going to get you very far. - Daniel Goleman

The Courage to Risk Comfort

Nehemiah served one of the most powerful kings in the world.

Cupbearers were trusted officials — but they were also easily replaceable.

When the king noticed Nehemiah looked sad, it was dangerous territory.

In that culture, appearing unhappy before the king could be seen as disloyalty. Punishable.

Yet Nehemiah told the truth.

He admitted he was troubled.

And then he did something even more courageous.

He asked the king for permission to leave his prestigious position and travel to Jerusalem to help rebuild the city.

Imagine the risk.

His career.
His reputation.
Possibly even his life.

Leadership often begins exactly here — the moment when someone decides that comfort is no longer more important than purpose.

Clarity Before Action

For four months Nehemiah prayed and reflected before speaking to the king.

He wasn’t passive during that time.

He was preparing.

When the king asked how long he would be gone, Nehemiah already knew.

When the king asked what he needed, Nehemiah had a list.

Travel papers.
Building materials.
Safe passage.

He had done the thinking.

There is a leadership principle I often share with executives:

Velocity is a function of clarity.

In my work with senior leaders, I see how difficult this step can be. Leaders assume others understand the vision because it feels obvious to them. But clarity and inspiration rarely happen by accident. Nehemiah shows us that enrolling people into a mission requires thoughtful communication.

Once Nehemiah arrived in Jerusalem, he didn’t immediately announce a plan.

Instead, he quietly surveyed the damage at night.

He looked for himself.

Great leaders resist the temptation to lead from assumptions.
They seek firsthand understanding before launching strategy.

There is nothing so useless as doing efficiently that which should not be done at all. - Peter Drucker

Inspiring Others Into the Mission

Once Nehemiah understood the challenge, he gathered the leaders, priests, officials, and citizens.

Notice what he did.

He didn’t simply assign work.

He told a story.

He explained the challenge they faced, why it mattered, and how rebuilding the wall would restore dignity and security to the entire community.

Then something remarkable happened.

The people responded:

“Let us rise up and build.”

That moment — when people move from passive observers to committed participants — is one of the most powerful moments in leadership.

People rarely commit to a task. They commit to a meaningful mission.

Nehemiah then did something equally important.

He organized the work carefully.

Families rebuilt sections of wall near their homes.
Groups worked together.
Everyone had a role.

Vision without execution fails.

Many great visions fail not because the idea was weak, but because the execution was never clearly planned.

But execution without shared ownership fails too.

Nehemiah created both.

Drawing Strength From Beyond Yourself

What fascinates me most about Nehemiah is that he never acted as if the outcome depended solely on him.

He planned carefully.
He acted courageously.
He organized people strategically.

But again and again he returned to prayer.

Even in the middle of conflict and opposition, Nehemiah pauses to pray.

He knew something every leader eventually learns:

Human strength alone eventually runs out.

Whether someone approaches leadership through faith or through deeper reflection on purpose and values, the principle still holds.

The most enduring leaders draw from a source larger than themselves.

For Nehemiah, that source was God.

Questions for Your Own Leadership

Nehemiah’s story invites us to ask some uncomfortable and important questions:

• Where do my strength and emotional awareness intersect?
• Am I willing to step beyond comfort when something truly matters?
• Do I pause long enough to gain clarity before acting?
• Can I communicate a vision in a way that inspires people to join in?
• Do I rely solely on my own effort — or draw strength from deeper purpose, community, or faith?

A Few Questions Worth Considering

For those of us who approach leadership through faith, Nehemiah raises another question:

What burden has God placed on your heart?

Broken systems.
Discouraged people.
Communities in need of restoration.

The invitation of leadership is rarely convenient.

But when we respond with courage, humility, and reliance on God, something remarkable happens.

What once seemed impossible begins to take shape —
stone by stone,
person by person,
wall by wall.

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✨ One closing thought

As I reflect on Nehemiah’s story, I’m reminded that leadership doesn’t always begin with a brilliant strategy. Often it begins when something touches our heart deeply enough that we can no longer ignore it. I find myself asking: Where is the wall in my own world that needs rebuilding—and what small step might I be called to take?

If this post resonated with you, I invite you to become a paid subscriber. Your support allows me to keep writing about leadership, faith, emotional intelligence, and the inner work that shapes how we live and lead. I’m grateful for this thoughtful community of readers.

I’d love to hear from you: What “wall” in your world might be waiting for someone to help rebuild it?

The Inside Stuff

For leaders who want to cultivate meaning and satisfaction in work, love and life.

By Elaine Morris

I’m an Enneagram 7, which means restlessness is practically a spiritual gift.

I finish one project and immediately start thinking about the next adventure—another gathering, another idea, another improvement I should make to my life.

For years I assumed this meant something was wrong with me.

Now I’m beginning to suspect it might actually be how God gets my attention.

What are you restless about right now?

Not unhappy.
Not failing.

Just that quiet feeling that something in your life is ready for more.

Many of the most important shifts in our lives begin exactly there.

Restlessness.

The Apple Tree Problem

Imagine your life is like an apple tree.

You notice the apples could be better—larger, juicier, brighter red. So you focus all your effort on improving the fruit.

You strategize.
Push harder.
Try new techniques.

Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.

Eventually we grow frustrated and start shouting at the tree:

Grow faster. Produce more. Be better.

Sound familiar?

Many leaders spend enormous energy trying to improve the fruit of their lives—performance, success, influence, results—while ignoring the roots and the soil.

But fruit cannot be forced.

It grows naturally from healthy roots in good soil.

Jesus’ Quiet Lesson About Growth

Jesus told a short parable that speaks directly to this.

In Luke 13, a vineyard owner complains that a fig tree hasn’t produced fruit for three years and suggests cutting it down.

But the gardener replies:

“Let’s give it another year. I’ll dig around it and fertilize, and maybe it will produce next year; if it doesn’t, then chop it down.” (Luke 13:8)

Notice what the gardener does.

He doesn’t shame the tree.
He cultivates it.

He loosens the soil.
He nourishes the roots.
He gives it time.

Real fruitfulness rarely comes from pressure.

It comes from cultivation.

What Actually Changes Us

Psychologists Dr. John Townsend and Dr. Henry Cloud discovered something remarkably similar in decades of clinical work with people facing addiction, depression, and trauma.

Lasting change didn’t happen by focusing only on behavior to impact results—the fruit.

Transformation happened when the roots of a person’s life were strengthened.

Townsend often describes three nutrients that help those roots grow:

Grace
We experience change when we are deeply known and still loved—by God and by safe people.

Truth
Wise friends, mentors, coaches and sacred time with God helps us see what we cannot see ourselves.

Time
Real transformation rarely happens quickly. God seems remarkably patient with human growth.

Truth without grace crushes us.
Grace without truth leaves us stuck.

But grace, truth, and time together create the soil where change grows.

Thriving While the Fruit Is Still Growing

Here’s the surprising part.

Thriving doesn’t begin after everything in our lives is fixed.

It can begin while the fruit is still growing.

When we cultivate our roots and nourish the soil—through grace, truth, and time—our relationships deepen, our leadership matures, and our faith becomes steadier.

The fruit comes eventually.

But peace can come sooner.

Frederick Buechner wrote:

“The God of biblical faith meets us at those moments when we are most human, most ourselves.”

And long before him, St. Augustine observed:

“Our hearts are restless until they rest in You.”

So What Can You Do About Restlessness?

Instead of trying to fix it, try listening to it.

Ask yourself:

Where might God be tending the soil of my life right now?

Is it an invitation to:

• receive more grace
• hear some truth you’ve been avoiding
• or allow time to do its quiet work?

It took me years to realize that what I called ambition might actually be something deeper. I’m still learning this myself. My natural wiring pushes me toward the next idea, the next project, the next experience. But I’m slowly discovering that thriving doesn’t come from chasing better fruit. It comes from tending the roots—trusting God’s grace, listening to truth, and allowing time to do its quiet work. And the surprising gift is this: even while the fruit is still growing, life can already feel full.

Blaise Pascal, a 17th century French mathematician and philosopher said,

“There is a God-shaped vacuum in the heart of each man, which cannot be satisfied by any created thing but only God the Creator, made known through Jesus Christ.”

After Christmas, I felt… off.

Not dramatically sad.
Not clinically depressed.
Just vaguely down. Listless. Unmotivated.

Have you ever asked yourself, “Am I depressed… or just tired… or just human?”

The house was suddenly quiet after a wonderful holiday. The sky was gray. It was too cold to walk the beach. I’m aging — which, let’s be honest, is its own ongoing negotiation with reality.

Then another thought surfaced: I had fewer coaching clients starting the year than in previous seasons.

Cue the executive brain:
Is my career winding down? Is this decline? Is this relevance fading?

Now, for context — I’ve intentionally reduced my workload since moving to the beach. That part was strategic. But this felt different.

After some honest reflection, I realized what was happening:

I was experiencing a loss.

And until I named it, it owned me.

The Losses We Don’t Call “Loss”

When we think of grief, we think of death, divorce, tragedy.

But leaders experience micro-losses constantly:

• You’re passed over for a promotion

• A prospective client you expected to close ghosts you

• A health diagnosis forces new limitations

• A milestone birthday shifts your identity

• A conflict at work remains unresolved

• A performance review stings

• A goal fails

• A speech flops

• A habit still has more power over you than you’d like

None of these show up in obituaries.
But they register in your nervous system.

And if you don’t metabolize them, they linger.

What Many of Us Were Taught

Consider how your family handled loss. Chances are you were subtly trained to:

• Don’t dwell.

• Be strong.

• Think positive.

• Others have it worse.

• Crying is for sissies.

• Quit feeling sorry for yourself.

• Shake it off.

Faith was sometimes interpreted as emotional suppression.

Strength was often confused with stoicism.

But avoidance isn’t resilience.

It’s delayed processing.

What Grief Actually Is

Grief is the emotional, psychological, and even neurological response to loss.

In the Townsend Institute’s Organizational Leadership Program, Dr. John Townsend often says:

“Grief is God’s way of helping you metabolize what you can no longer hold on to.”

Metabolize.
Like digestion.

If you don’t process it, it doesn’t disappear — it sits undigested.

Research following families who lost loved ones in 9/11 found something striking:
Those who actively processed their grief — individually and in groups — showed brain changes over time. Their loss moved from the “present distress” centers of the brain into memory centers.

They didn’t forget.
But they were no longer living inside the pain.

Those who avoided grief? The distress stayed neurologically present.

For leaders, that matters.

Unprocessed loss leaks into:

• Irritability

• Emotional reactivity

• Cynicism

• Low energy

• Quiet discouragement

• Self-condemnation

It can even fuel numbing behaviors — overworking, overdrinking, overeating, scrolling.

High performers are particularly skilled at bypassing grief.

But resilience requires going through it.

What I Did Instead of “Powering Through”

Before assuming I needed medication or a light therapy lamp (both legitimate tools when appropriate), I tried something simpler:

I wrote.

What exactly am I grieving?
What does this change mean about my identity?
What am I afraid it says about my value?

Then I shared it with Rod. He listened with empathy — not fixing, not minimizing.

Then I shared it with trusted friends and my small group.

Within weeks, something shifted.

I began to see the freedom in a lighter workload.
The joy in painting classes.
The space for new ministry roles and volunteer work.

Ironically, new clients came along — but they no longer carried existential weight.

My value was no longer tied to my calendar.

That’s what grieving did.

It built resilience.

Grief Is a Precursor to Resilience

Resilience is not “getting over it.”

It’s adapting without hardening.

It’s feeling fully and choosing wisely.

You cannot simply will yourself past a loss.
Your brain requires processing.
Your nervous system requires connection.

As Michelle Obama said:

“Grief and resilience live together.”

For leaders, this is emotional intelligence at its finest:
The ability to recognize, name, and process your own internal experience so it doesn’t unconsciously drive your behavior.

Even Jesus Grieved

Scripture never equates maturity with emotional suppression.

• “A time to weep and a time to laugh.” — Ecclesiastes 3:4

• “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.” — Psalm 34:18

• “Blessed are those who mourn…” — Matthew 5:4

Jesus wept.

He didn’t bypass sorrow.
He entered it.

Grieving with hope is not weakness.
It is spiritual and emotional maturity.

A Lenten Leadership Exercise

As we move through Lent — a season designed for reflection — consider this:

1. What losses have you experienced in the past year?
Not just dramatic ones. Subtle ones too.

2. For each loss, write:

• What happened?

• What was the impact?

• How did I deal with it (or avoid it)?

• What emotions surface now?

• Who is a safe person I can share this with?

Don’t rush this.

Emotional self-awareness is not indulgent.
It is strategic.

Your Call to Action

If you want to lead well — in your company, your family, your ministry — you must increase your capacity to feel without being ruled by your feelings.

That requires:

• Naming losses.

• Allowing grief.

• Sharing vulnerably with safe people.

• Refusing to equate productivity with worth.

Here is the uncomfortable truth:

What you refuse to grieve will quietly govern you.

But what you grieve well will strengthen you.

This week, instead of powering through, pause.

Ask yourself:

What am I carrying that I have not acknowledged?

Then begin the work of metabolizing it.

Your leadership — and your joy — depend on it.

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