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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. |
Every month, one dispatch. Philosophical, snarky, and occasionally practical. No productivity tips. No growth hacks. No self-help magic. Just an honest look at what keeps most entrepreneurs on the run — and what shifts your physics so you can build something you're actually proud of.
Back in 2007, I walked out of the Walt Disney Company with a box of stuff, an headful of confidence, and approximately zero understanding of what I was actually walking into. I had a plan, Reader. Sort of. The plan was: I'm Bryan Yates, I've produced things, I know people, I'll figure it out. What could be hard about this? Turns out — the part I hadn't figured out (which was most of it) was everything that came next. What nobody tells you when you leave is this: the skills that made you...
If you've been reading these monthly dispatches for the past year, Reader, you might detect an attitude shift. For years, when people have talked about how busy they are, discussed their self-generated overwhelm, shared their discomfort with stillness, or even effused on their love of running, my reflexive response has been: "Running's for fugitives." This was something that only spoke in my inside voice… until one day a client asked "WHAT THE HECK is that?" My internal dialogue had, in that...
A few years ago, I started a men's group called "The Inner Circle" with a couple of posts on LinkedIn. Not because it was a good marketing idea. Not because some business coach told me communities were the future. Because I went on a bike ride with an old friend I hadn't seen in years, and somewhere on that ride we got to talking about middle-aged male loneliness — and I thought, yeah. Someone should do something about that, Reader. Turns out the problem is bigger than I realized. The U.S....