Almost everyone claims to be busy. Many will even describe their endless to-do list—what they’ve done, what they’re doing, and what’s next—justifying their busyness.
Lots of articles explore different types of busyness. One that stands out for me, Busyness 101: Why Are We SO BUSY in Modern Life?, lists the following types:
-Busyness as a badge of honor and trendy status symbol
-Busyness as job security
-Busyness as Fear of Missing Out (FOMO)
-Busyness as a byproduct of the digital age
-Busyness as a time filler
-Busyness as a necessity
-Busyness as escapism
The last one stands out to me: busyness as escapism.
When we’re constantly busy, we get to avoid the hard things in life. No time to reflect on priorities. No time to find smarter ways to work. No time to focus on meaningful goals…ours or our organization’s.
Busyness lets us sacrifice our other responsibilities. We convince ourselves that our sacrifices are necessary, without questioning what they truly cost us or those around us. And we tell ourselves that once we’re “less busy,” we’ll focus on the important things we’ve been neglecting. The problem? We rarely become “less busy” (at least, from our perspective).
But the busiest effective people operate differently. These individuals aren’t just busy for the sake of it. They work with intention, with purpose. They prioritize. They seek smarter ways to work. They focus on meaningful goals rather than just checking off task lists.
These are the people who not only get things done but get the right things done. And they do it faster than everyone else. Why? Because they’re too busy to be distracted by nonsense and trivialities. They tackle the big things first, and often, the smaller things take care of themselves.
When I managed large organizations, I valued these employees the most. They weren’t just productive, but they were leaders. They inspired everyone around them to be more effective. Whenever a new project or opportunity arose, I sought them out. I knew they’d prioritize the new project well and deliver great results.
The difference between being busy and being effectively busy comes down to mindset. The most productive people don’t just fill their days. They own them.
Next time you catch yourself saying, “I’m so busy,” pause and think. Are your tasks productive and effective, or just occupying your time?
You may find that you’re not as busy as you thought.
Photo by Anna Samoylova on Unsplash…my eye is on the girl in pink who’s walking away from the rope (I bet you didn’t notice her at first)
There’s a saying that often floats around in entrepreneurial circles: “Fail fast, fail often.” While the origins of this phrase are up for debate, its lesson is clear. Failure isn’t just an inevitable part of leadership. It’s one of the most defining. How a leader reacts to failure (their own or their team’s) can reveal their true character and shape the trajectory of their future success.
But here’s the thing: writing about failure and leadership can quickly sound like a series of cliches. We’ve all heard the platitudes about “learning from mistakes” and “rising stronger.” But there’s a deeper message about what truly separates those who lead with integrity and vision from those who crumble when things go wrong.
When failure strikes, leaders face a choice. They can own it, adapt, and come back stronger. Or they can point fingers, wallow in resentment, and stall out. The decision often happens in an instant, but its impact can last a lifetime.
Great leaders take ownership of failure, even when it’s not entirely their fault. Why? Because owning failure builds trust. When a leader says, “This didn’t go as planned, let’s discuss what we’ll do to fix it,” they inspire confidence. They create a culture where the team feels safe to take risks, knowing that mistakes are part of growth, not reasons for punishment.
When leaders blame others, they erode trust. Pointing fingers, whether at the team, external circumstances, or bad luck, signals an unwillingness to reflect and adapt. Over time, this creates a toxic environment where innovation dies and progress stalls.
“Fail fast, fail often” isn’t about being reckless. It’s about embracing experimentation and accepting that not every idea will succeed. Failing quickly means you can pivot sooner, learn faster, and ultimately get to a better solution.
This idea requires two things:
Humility: The willingness to admit when something isn’t working.
Agility: The ability to adapt and try again without becoming paralyzed by setbacks.
Elon Musk is a great example. From continual iterations of experimentation and failure at SpaceX—including multiple RUDs (rapid unscheduled disassembly in rocket speak)—to the challenges Tesla faced in scaling production and support, he’s built companies on the idea of learning through failure. Musk doesn’t see failure as an end point. He sees it as feedback. A necessary step on the path to success.
To handle failure effectively, leaders need more than optimism. They need a process. Here’s a simple approach that works (notice I didn’t say it’s an easy approach):
-Recognize the failure and what it means. Be transparent with your team.
-Reflect on what went wrong without assigning blame. Focus on systems and strategies, not personal shortcomings.
-Identify key takeaways. What worked? What didn’t? What’s worth trying again?
-Adjust your approach based on lessons learned.
-Recommit to the goal with a renewed focus and determination.
Failure doesn’t only teach leaders how to solve problems. It shapes their emotional intelligence (if they allow it). Leaders who’ve faced setbacks tend to have more empathy and patience. They’ve had to overcome multiple failures themselves, so they know how challenging failures can be for their teams.
When leaders normalize failure, they create cultures where people aren’t afraid to take risks or push boundaries. That’s where breakthroughs happen.
The mark of a true leader isn’t perfection. It’s how they handle failure. Whether they embrace it as a teacher or fear it as an enemy. The choice of owning mistakes, adapting, and persevering defines not just their success, but the success of everyone they lead.
The next time failure arises, ask yourself: Will I let this moment shape me for the better? Will I lead my team through it with grace and determination? Will we learn from this failure?
The answers will set the course for everything that follows.
“…climbing 10% of the mountain ten times is not as useful as climbing to the top once.” – Adam Mastroianni
This quote reminds me of the old adage about project resourcing: sometimes projects can’t be completed faster merely by adding more people to it. After all, the story goes, nine women can’t make a baby in a month.
Does this climbing quote ignore our preparation? Route scouting, equipment testing, and countless workouts that make the summit climb possible. Not to mention the like-minded team we built to support the climb.
Maybe it’s not about preparation. Maybe it’s about the false-starts, the simulated progress, the big talk and no action that we engage in to make it seem like we’re climbing when we’re not. We think we’re fooling everyone, but we’re only fooling ourselves as we take the comfortable way out and choose not to climb at all.
It’s easy to climb 10% of the mountain or achieve 10% of the goal. It’s easy to get 50%. 60%. Even 75%. But as the challenges compound near the top, we let doubts creep in. The grinding effort becomes exhausting. We lose sight of the summit or forget why we’re climbing in the first place.
We make excuses. We can come back another day and try again. The summit will always be there, and maybe next time…
That’s just it. We’re rarely “ready” for the climbs that matter, whether in business, fitness, or life’s hardships. Waiting for the perfect time often means waiting forever.
You have the power to choose the summit run every time. Committing 100% effort, even when you feel 60% ready. Trusting that you’ll figure out the rest along the way.
Life’s summits rarely wait for us to feel ready. The question is: will you take the first step…and then push beyond 10%, all the way to the top?
The winds arrive, sharp-edged with frost, Carrying whispers of all we’ve lost. Yet still, we gather where light abides, Tracing joys where memory hides.
The manger waits beneath the sky, Its humble wood holds heaven’s cry. A Child is born, both meek and bold, To mend the hearts that grow cold.
Here at the manger, shadow and light, Joy interwoven with sorrow’s might. A promise breathes where silence stirs: “Fear not—for I have heard your cry.”
Words awaken, dormant long, Noel and tidings weave their song. Through flickering trees and spiced perfumes, Old faces linger in quiet rooms.
Empty chairs hold stories near, A laughter faint, a single tear. Yet love persists where loss has tread, Its echoes call where angels led.
Here at the manger, shadow and light, Joy interwoven with sorrow’s might. A promise breathes where silence stirs: “Fear not—for I am sending my Child.”
O silverware that gleams with fire, O fragile ornaments that inspire. In every sparkle, a truth takes hold: The story that’s not fully told.
For every shadow cast by light, There burns a flame against the night. And every sorrow, every tear, Is met by love that lingers near.
Here at the manger, shadow and light, Joy interwoven with sorrow’s might. A promise breathes where silence stirs: “Fear not—for the Child is here.”
Across the miles, through time and space, The ties of love refuse to break. Each prayer, each carol, each whispered word Carries the weight of the Hope we’ve heard.
The Child has come, and so we sing, For in His hands rest everything. The hollow aches, the brightest cheer— All held in grace, all gathered here.
Here at the manger, shadow and light, Joy interwoven with sorrow’s might. A promise breathes where silence stirs: “Fear not—for I AM with you until the end of time.”
The bells resound with heaven’s cheer, For Christ is born, and love draws near. The angels sing, the nations rise, A holy joy fills earth and skies.
O love that soars, O joy that stays, We join the hymn of endless praise. In manger low, our hearts proclaim: The world redeemed by Jesus’ name.
Here at the manger, shadow and light, Joy interwoven with sorrow’s might. A promise breathes where silence stirs: “Fear not—for the Child Jesus is Born.”
There’s nothing like your own bed, your own pillow, and nice warm blankets when it’s time to sleep. To confirm this truism, try backpacking for a few nights in freezing conditions. Your lightweight sleeping pad and mummy sack might keep you alive, but they’re no match for the comfort of home.
Or spend a couple of weeks living out of a suitcase, hopping from one hotel bed to another. It’s rare for a hotel bed to be anything but “hammock-shaped” with giant pillows that defy logic and offer little comfort.
We all love to be comfortable. Ask most people, and they’ll tell you they’d rather sit at home in their jammies in their favorite chair, watching their favorite movie with their go-to snacks and drink in hand.
Comfort is easy. It requires little effort, and even less thought.
It’s safe, predictable, and free of fear. We know exactly how to achieve it, and we stay there because it feels good.
That’s the problem. Comfort is about staying. It’s about achieving sameness.
Growth doesn’t happen in comfort. The magic begins when we step outside our cozy bubble.
Trying new things, exploring unfamiliar places, or learning new skills rarely feels comfortable at first. It’s awkward and often frustrating. But with time, practice, and patience, we adjust. The uncomfortable becomes comfortable. We expand our boundaries. We redefine what normal feels like.
We grow.
Comfort is incredible. It’s that perfect combination of warmth, ease, and familiarity. It offers a necessary break from life’s challenges. But if we make it our ultimate goal, it lulls us into complacency. It encourages us to settle, to avoid risks, to stop growing.
Celebrate the moments of comfort when they come. Appreciate them for what they are—a place to rest and recharge. But don’t let comfort hold you back.
“You can have everything in life you want, if you will just help enough other people get what they want.” – Zig Ziglar
I remember a friend of mine who was promoted from being a very successful salesman to being the branch manager for a large insurance company. It is amazing to think this was almost 30 years ago.
He told me that he’d finally get to tell people what to do, and he looked forward to that. Plus, he’d get to take long lunches and charge the lunches to his expense account.
I knew that if that was his approach to his new manager role, he’d probably fail miserably…and quickly. I told him as much.
I suggested that he start by meeting with his new team members one-on-one. Just because he’d worked alongside many of them before didn’t mean he knew them well enough as their manager. I encouraged him to take the time to understand each of their roles, how they saw their future, and what they hoped to see change at the company.
I said it would help him get to know them and, even more importantly, show them he valued them and wanted them to succeed. And if he let them know that he needed their help, too, it would go a long way. This wasn’t just his chance to lead, it was a chance to connect directly with each team member.
He thought that was a waste of his time. He had been a very successful salesman, knew how the company operated, and already knew what made the branch tick. He told me that he knew what needed to be fixed and he’d hit the ground running to get those changes implemented.
I saw him again about three or four months later. When I asked him how his new job was going, he just shook his head. “Not good. Nobody is listening to me. I’ve had a couple of people quit already, and I think some others are out looking for new jobs. Our sales are way down. My boss is asking me what I’m going to do about it.”
I didn’t say, “I told you so,” but that’s what I was thinking. A few months later, he was demoted back to sales, but at the lower pay structure in place for new hires. Not long after that, he left the company.
I’ve been blessed with multiple opportunities to take over business operations in fields where I had little or no expertise or experience. Sometimes, from outside looking in, I had some ideas about how things should operate, but I always kept it to myself when I arrived.
Even in situations where I thought I knew all the answers, I purposely and methodically asked as many questions as possible. I took my own advice to meet with as many employees as possible, asking them about their job, how they do it, why they do it, where they hope to be in the future, the problems they are having, the things the company is doing wrong, the things the company is doing right. There are no wrong answers in these types of discussions.
It is truly amazing how much a new manager can learn from the people already in place, especially if that manager genuinely wants those people to be successful. It also helps to be extremely curious and thirsty to learn as many details about an operation as possible.
The most successful managers I’ve known have operated this way. They ask questions and listen carefully to the answers. They work as hard as they can to help each of their team members get what they want (as Zig so eloquently said).
If you’re stepping into a leadership role with the mindset of lording authority over others, expecting everyone to follow your lead just because you’re in charge, you might have short-term success, but it won’t last. Real leadership is about seeking ways to enrich others and the organization before yourself. And in doing so, you build an environment of trust where people thrive and truly enjoy their work.
Helping others succeed isn’t just a management tactic. It’s the only way to real success.
I’ve probably hiked or biked hundreds, maybe thousands of trail miles in my life. Most of the trails had been there for many years…even decades.
Other than clearing some fallen branches from a trail or participating in a trail volunteer day, I never gave much thought to how the trails were built, or who originally built them. They were always there. It didn’t matter if the trails started out as animal paths, or were built by hand, carved through the forest. The trails seemed to belong right where they were.
My perspective shifted when we were fortunate enough to purchase acreage that includes a forested hillside, a mostly dry pond, rocky escarpments, and a meadow thick with trees and scrub brush.
Where others may have seen a tangle of impenetrable forest, I could see trails winding through it, paths crisscrossing up and down the hill, around the pond, and maybe a little campsite down in the meadow under the tall trees.
I had no idea where to start or where exactly the trails would go. I just knew the hillside and meadow were calling for a trail system and a campsite that my family and friends could enjoy exploring for years to come.
When we moved here, I didn’t own a chain saw, a tractor, or any of the fancy attachments that make tractors such useful (and fun) tools. I had the standard set of homeowner hand tools from our lifetime of living in a tract home that didn’t have a yard big enough for a lawn.
The real work began when our new property was hit by a 90 mile per hour derecho that effectively found all the unhealthy trees and snapped them in half or knocked them to the ground. As I worked my way across our property over the next six months, cutting and clearing all of the downed trees (40-50 trees in all), I got a ton of practice with my new chainsaws, my upgraded tractor (the small one we purchased initially didn’t cut it, so I did what every tractor guy worth his salt does when faced with this dilemma…I upsized), the 5-foot brush hog attachment, and the front loader grapple attachment.
As I worked to complete the clearing process, I could see where new trails might go. As I brush-hogged large swaths of overgrown scrub brush and brambles, new openings showed themselves. In the areas where I cleared away the dead and fallen trees, nice new grassy areas greeted the sunlight that finally penetrated to the ground. I could see how trimming up some of the remaining trees would improve the sight lines through the area.
Once the land clearing process was mostly done, the real trailblazing process began. Deciding exactly where to cut the trails, which routes worked best given the lay of the land, the gradient of the hillside, natural features, and tree coverage. Could I veer up and to the right a bit to maintain the trail flow while leaving more trees intact? Will a hiker be able to maintain their footing if I use the existing (slightly) flatter terrain on the hillside? Can I make this trail intersect in an interesting way with the other one that’s 200 yards away?
So far, I’ve been talking about literal trails and the (rewarding) process of carving a trail system by hand into my property. I’ve known my share of trailblazers in life and work, and I’ve even been one myself on occasion. It’s funny how, like the paths I was carving through the woods, new trails—whether they’re businesses, inventions, ideas, or methods—often seem inevitable after the fact.
Once they’re established, they feel as if they’ve always been there. But every one of those trails began with someone willing to face the unknown, to push forward without a clear end in sight, risking failure or embarrassment in the name of carving a new path.
Only the people who actually built these trails know what it took to get there. The obstacles that had to be moved, the dead ends they hit along the way, their moments of doubt. They alone understand the learning curve, the time, and the sheer energy it took to bring the trail to life. And as they move forward, bit by bit, the final route often ends up looking different from what they first imagined.
Our new trail system is amazing. It has straight sections, switchback sections, offshoots, shortcuts, climbs, and descents. Parts of the trail are under a tunnel-like canopy of thick forest and other areas open to the sky, providing amazing hilltop views. Walking along the trails feels like the landscape was made for them…even though there were countless hours of planning, experimenting, cutting, clearing, and adapting along the way.
Sometimes the trailblazer is driven by an obsessive need to see where the trail can go. To see what lies over the next hill, or around the next bend. Others visualize how their trail will be enjoyed for years (decades?) to come.
While their motivations may differ, the result is often the same. A path that seems to have always been, enjoyed by countless people who may never stop to wonder how it got there.
For those who wonder, the trail offers something more than just a route. It’s a reminder that someone, somewhere, once walked an untamed path and decided it was worth carving a trail for those who’d come later.
Pick any project—it doesn’t matter if it’s something you’ve assigned to yourself or something your boss has given you. It could be a huge, long-term project, or something that should take less than a week.
Chances are, that project will turn out to be harder than expected. It will require effort that nobody saw during the planning process (whether planning consisted of a 5-minute conversation, or a multi-month series of meetings and discussions).
Here’s something else about projects: even when we’re given full ownership, most of us will try to find ways to make sure we’re not fully responsible for the outcome.
But no matter what, the project remains. We own it. We also own the goal of getting it done right.
“The man who moves a mountain begins by carrying away small stones.” – Chinese Proverb
Progress is made through consistent effort, one step at a time. Then another. Then another. It’s the steps toward the goal that matter, almost as much as the goal itself.
What if some of the steps we take are the wrong ones? What if we have to go back and redo some of our work? What if somebody sees us make mistakes along the way?
Each of these are (almost) guaranteed to happen.
Embrace it. Learn from it. Carry on.
Keep stepping forward. Learn along the way and give yourself permission to take a step (or two) back from time to time.
A professional manager understands that managing is an active role. It requires proactive effort, not just sitting back and overseeing tasks. A good manager knows how to delegate responsibility and authority. It’s a key skill that helps multiply their impact and develop the next generation of leaders.
There’s no shortage of books and articles that dive deeply into the art of delegation. Many are worth reading and putting into practice. But here’s the thing: no matter how much you delegate, you can’t delegate your influence. That personal touch—the way you listen, share your perspective, and guide the conversation—is something only you can bring to the table.
Managers have a unique viewpoint. They understand the critical questions facing the organization in a way others often don’t. Their value lies in their ability to communicate directly, to really hear what’s being said (and often what isn’t), and to guide the organization toward the right path. That’s what makes their influence so crucial.
Now, picture this: a manager sends one of their team members to a meeting with internal customers. The goal? For the subordinate to represent the manager’s ability to listen, understand, and guide the discussion. Sure, it can work if that person has full decision-making authority and can make agreements that hold the manager accountable. But that’s rarely the case.
So, we come back to the reality: a manager has to prioritize where they spend their time and energy, making sure they’re showing up where their influence is most needed. It’s not just about sitting in meetings or making decisions on the fly—it’s about really understanding the dynamics in play, both spoken and unspoken.
A manager’s influence over the direction of projects, processes, and people can’t be handed off. At best, subordinates can carry a “shadow” of that influence. It might get the job done, but it’s not likely to push the organization in the bold direction it needs to go.
In the end, while delegation is a powerful tool, influence is personal. And if you’re serious about leading, you need to make sure you’re showing up where it counts.
“Manners are of more importance than laws. Upon them, in a great measure, the laws depend. The law touches us but here and there, and now and then. Manners are what vex or soothe, corrupt or purify, exalt or debase, barbarize or refine us, by a constant, steady, uniform, insensible operation, like that of the air we breathe in.” – Edmund Burke
-Why do we say Please and Thank You?
-Why do we hold the door for the next person?
-Why do we show respect for our elders?
-Why don’t we interrupt someone when they’re speaking (at least, most of the time)?
Mostly because we were taught these behaviors by our parents, or someone in authority, when we were growing up. We may have learned by being told explicitly, or by watching others that we admire acting in these ways.
As Burke points out, manners are more important than laws. They are fundamental in establishing the boundaries of our behavior, of integrating us within our community.
Manners show our respect for those around us. They create a standard for how we work with others.
Consider the manners (customs) that are in play where you work. It doesn’t matter if you work in construction, nursing, information technology, or any other field. If you work with people (which you always do whether they are your co-workers, your customers, or both), your manner of behavior will be critical to your success. Good manners create a positive environment, build strong relationships, and foster a culture of respect and professionalism.
Since we are creatures of habit, it’s easy to establish either a habit for lacking manners, or for having them. The disciplined decision to operate your life within the bounds of good manners is a decision that will pay consistent dividends. Good manners can be the foundation for a disciplined approach across all areas of your life. When we are polite and considerate, we remind ourselves of our values and our commitment to treating others (and ourselves) with dignity.
The simple act of saying “Please” and “Thank You” (and meaning it) shows our vulnerability to others, and at the same time, our appreciation for what they have done for us. Powerful ways to remind us of our humility and gratitude many times each day.
Edmund Burke observed, “Example is the school of mankind, and they will learn at no other.” Our behavior and proper manners will be a teacher to those around us, whether we intend it or not. Our actions, grounded in good manners, can inspire those around us to adopt similar behaviors.
It’s easy for each new generation to look at the rules and traditions of prior generations (manners) as archaic, overly formalized, and irrelevant in their “new modern era.” They may rationalize away the need for good manners on this basis. However, dismissing the importance of manners can lead to a breakdown in social cohesion. Our challenge is to adapt the principles to modern contexts while preserving the core values of respect and consideration.
Manners are a timeless currency that never loses value—so spend them generously and watch how rich life can become.
Grandpa Bob Encouraging Leadership 
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