|
Reader, Almost every professional I worked with this year had one thing in common—a strange, private drag. Not burnout. Not confusion. But a low-grade stall, like their instincts weren't quite firing. And still, they kept delivering. Because that's how insanely capable people roll. Sharpening The BladeFor insanely capable professionals, instincts are like a chef's knife. Over time, they naturally dull—not from neglect, but from constant use. The leaders I worked with this year? Wealth managers, healthcare data professionals, nurse directors, marketing agency owners, talent managers. People with track records, purpose, and vision. They lead teams, hold up systems, make lives better. But many have lots of motion without much traction. They feel stalled, unclear, circling some decision. This is probably the most common feeling we share but rarely name. For people accustomed to getting things done, tired instincts feel disorienting and frustrating. Many describe it as feeling like an actor miscast for the current part they're in. They know they're capable, but something feels off—like they're performing a role that doesn't quite fit anymore. We try to fix it with new information, new skills, new frameworks. But knives don't need new skills. They need re-edging. What I've found in our work: we're sharpening the blade. When that happens, the effort takes less force, decisions cut cleaner, and movement turns into traction again. Not teaching someone how to be a knife—but restoring the edge so it does what it was built to do. This isn't about productivity. Productivity training is for those worried about keeping their jobs and not losing their clients... for surviving. This is about physics. It's about reducing drag, restoring edge, and letting instincts cut smoothly again—so you can stop surviving and start building what you're actually here to build. Welcome to issue 9 of Shift Happens. (If you care to share the gift of shenanigans to a rando in your life, here's the link) Thank You, ReallyHere's something I didn't expect to say when I started writing this newsletter: I'm grateful. Not in the performative LinkedIn "blessed and humbled" way. But genuinely grateful that I get to do this work—spotting patterns, naming what people feel but can't articulate, sharpening blades. I keep a mini manifesto for myself when writing: I'd rather help you feel seen than try to make you feel inspired. Inspiration is fleeting—a somewhat empty calorie. Being seen, however, is stabilizing, centering, and mobilizing. My friend Adriana Tica—who publishes the best weekly newsletter I read called "Strategic AF"—pushed me to start writing my own this year. I didn't expect to enjoy it as much as I do. What I really want to say, Reader, is this: Thank you for letting me invade your inbox each month. Thank you for coming on this ride with me. Here's a wee video message I recorded for you: The Real LeverageI often talk about hospitality as a leadership value. Not in the "customer is always right" way—because the customer is NOT always right. (But that's for another essay.) In the classical world, hospitality was the ritual of two strangers—guest and host—coming together and being transformed. The relationship shifts from stranger to guest to friend. I've had multiple businesses that I've recently realized were suffused with this concept. Even my coaching business is, at its heart, a hospitality business. Reading Will Guidara's Unreasonable Hospitality this week, this line brought me alive: "Tap into their passions—then give them the keys." That's it. That's my own North Star for the work I do with others. Sure sure, we sharpen the blade, build fresh instincts, fortify self-trust. We do all that. But the real leverage is tapping into passion and then getting going! So, my wish for you in the coming year: See the transitional moment you may be in. Make your one bold move that opens up many other moves—knowing that even the smallest shift can make the boldest difference. Tap into your passion, grab the keys, and drive the way you're meant to. Change is always happening. We're in a constant state of transition—we just recognize it more acutely at certain times. Recognizing that the end of the year is one of those transitional moments, I've been asking these three questions to friends, clients, and colleagues about their own transitions:
Wishing you happy holidays and a healthy new year. Remember to exhale, Bryan PS – Something new: I'm launching a 6-month coaching program for a pack of 8 insanely capable leaders this February... If you want to go further faster, go together. PPS – Murray 🐈 and Leroy 🐈⬛ would like to remind you that gratitude practices are most effective when they result in additional treats. They've compiled extensive research on this topic. |
Monthly essays for incredibly capable people on shifting perspective, rewiring instincts, becoming positively memorable.
It's great to see you, Reader, happy holidays. Here's a mini manifesto I keep for myself about writing:It's always more powerful to make readers seen than it is to make them feel inspired. Inspiration is fleeting. A somewhat empty calorie. Being seen, however, is stabilizing, centering, and empowering. So, if you're anything like me, and you'd like to use this end-of-year time to create space, exhale, and recover from the compounding cognitive load we carry--I see you. Back when I coached...
I've started training for a race I won't run for three or four years. Everyone who knows me knows this: I hate running. If I wrote a memoir, the title would be "Running's for Fugitives." I've built an entire athletic identity around cycling specifically, because it's not running. And yet here I am, choosing to intentionally train for a 50k trail run. My friend Brett produces The Kilimanjaro Trail Run. I've never met him, but I love what he does, who he does it for, and why he does it. I need...
Time to narc on myself. Earlier this month, Reader, I violated every principle I claim to stand for. And a friend called me out—hard. I was caught in one of those doom-scrolling rage cycles. You know the ones—the algorithm doing its thing, feeding you precisely calibrated outrage, each swipe releasing another tiny drip of dopamine that momentarily eases the deeper frustration about what’s happening in the world. In that state, I reposted something political on Instagram. It was biting,...