In sales, there’s an old saying that has echoed through offices and training rooms for decades.
Always be closing.
It’s meant to keep the salesperson focused on their end goal. Keep the deal moving forward. Stay alert to opportunity. Maintain momentum.
Over the years, I’ve come to believe leaders need a different version of that advice.
Always be coaching.
As a leader, your mission is to develop the people who will come after you. You lift others through quiet, daily work that helps them grow. Your job is to bring out the best in yourself and in the people who will eventually step into your role. Coaching drives growth and keeps it moving forward.
Coaching your team is a way of saying, “Your future matters to me.” Coaching your children says, “I believe you have more inside you than you can see today.” And coaching yourself acknowledges the simple truth that growth must continue throughout life, especially for the leader.
Great coaches do more than explain ideas. They create space for practice. They help others turn new knowledge into muscle memory. They offer challenges sized just right for the moment. They ask questions that change how a person thinks about a problem. They reveal a new angle or a new path forward when something feels unsolvable.
Coaching takes learning to the next level. You learn something. You put it into practice. Then you pass it on. Teaching anchors the lesson. It deepens the insight. It turns wisdom into a gift you can hand to others.
Coaching doesn’t require perfect knowledge. It requires humble generosity. Share the insight you gained from yesterday’s challenge. Share the questions that helped you see an issue more clearly. Share the perspective that lifted your confidence when you needed it most.
Leadership is a relay. Someone handed the baton to you. One day you’ll hand it to someone else. The best leaders prepare the people who will run ahead long after they’ve finished their leg of the race.
Who have you coached today? This week? This month?
This is your responsibility. Your opportunity. Your mission.
From thirty thousand feet, the land below looks like a patchwork of roads and fields. Each marks a choice someone once made about where to go. Some stretch straight and steady. Others twist through hills or fade out of sight. Together they form a map of movement and direction, a living story of people who kept choosing the next road.
Life feels the same way. The routes change, but the invitation stays the same. Keep moving to find greater meaning.
The most rewarding paths often pass through three places. Serving others, staying curious, and daring to pursue new goals.
Service opens our heart. When we give to something beyond ourselves, our life expands. For the younger generation, it teaches them that purpose grows through generosity and connection. Helping a friend, joining a cause, or showing up for someone who needs encouragement builds an identity rooted in contribution. Later in life, service transforms experience into legacy. It turns lessons into guidance and presence into impact. Every act of service whispers that we still matter.
Curiosity keeps that whisper alive. It invites discovery and reminds us that wonder never expires. For young adults, curiosity shifts attention from comparison to possibility. It fuels creativity and builds resilience (because nobody said it would be easy). For those further down the road, curiosity revives joy. Learning something new, exploring unfamiliar tools, or asking deeper questions renews their spirit.
Big goals complete the trio. Ambition alone can fade, but big dreams shaped by purpose bring hope to life. For the young, bold goals turn uncertainty into motion. For the experienced, they rekindle the thrill of becoming. The thrill of pursuing. Every goal, whether to build, create, teach, or grow, reminds the soul that movement still matters. Hope rises with every goal we dare to pursue.
Many people never take these paths. Fear of failure, fear of embarrassment, fear of losing face…they each build fences where we can hide. Quiet excuses convincing us to play small and call it wisdom.
Fear says, “Stay comfortable.” Curiosity says, “Let’s see what happens.”
When fear wins, both young and old lose sight of their forward motion. The young adult who fears being judged easily drifts into hopelessness. The older adult who hesitates to dream again slips into quiet surrender. The reasons sound different, yet the root feels the same. Fear has taken the wheel. Stagnation and hopelessness follow.
Purpose waits just ahead. It lives in the next act of kindness, the next mystery to be solved, the next dream still worth chasing.
The pathways to a rewarding life have no finish line. Every act of service, every curious step, every daring goal breathes new life into our soul.
When we explore these paths, joy and fulfillment will be our companion.
Photo by Line Kjær on Unsplash – I wonder what’s in the next valley. Let’s go find out.
I saw The Secret Life of Walter Mitty on an airplane ride recently. At a significant moment in the story, we hear the line, “Beautiful things don’t ask for attention.”
The photographer in the story chooses not to take a coveted photo of the elusive snow leopard. Instead, he simply enjoys the beautiful moment with his own eyes.
Real beauty doesn’t need to perform. It’s authentic and humble, whether anyone stops to notice or not.
A person of character lives this way. They have no need to prove themselves. They show up with kindness, consistency, and honesty. The neighbor who shovels snow from an elderly woman’s driveway before dawn, leaving no trace. Or the teacher who stays late to help a struggling student, never mentioning it to anyone.
The beauty of their character reveals itself in the way they live each day.
Humility makes this possible. It allows a life to shine without glare, to influence others by being genuine. Like mountains that reflect the glow of sunrise or wildflowers blooming unseen in a meadow, people of quiet integrity embody a beauty that doesn’t depend on recognition.
In our culture that rewards noise and spectacle, this is easy to forget. We’re told to broadcast accomplishments and measure our worth by attention. Yet the most meaningful lives belong to those who live true to themselves, free from the need for applause.
The things that endure, whether in people or in nature, carry their beauty without fanfare. They simply are.
There’s a paradox in writing about something that exists most powerfully in silence. Maybe that’s the point. Celebrating this kind of beauty without claiming it for ourselves.
But we can learn to recognize it. To be shaped and inspired by it. And, in our quieter moments, we can strive to live it.
Photo by Patrick Schaudel on Unsplash – some of my fondest memories involve waking up in a tent on crisp mountain mornings, basking in the beautiful glow of the rising sun.
Somewhere along the way, I’ve noticed a quiet truth.
The thing I was working toward (the goal, the vision, the project, the finish line) always required other steps. Preparation. Research. Practice. Training. A foundation. A warm-up.
While I tried to focus on the thing I wanted to do, most of my time was spent doing all the other things that needed to happen first.
Building a deck means hauling lumber, squaring the posts, digging holes…and at least three trips to Home Depot. Writing a book means staring at blank pages, deleting paragraphs (and chapters), and researching obscure details that may never make it to print. Staying in shape means lacing up your shoes at dawn when no one else is watching. Starting a business means filling out countless forms, talking to lots of people who say no, and revisiting your reasons why, countless times.
These tasks are not detours or distractions. They are merely steps on the journeys we’ve chosen.
If we can learn to love these quiet and often unnoticed tasks that prepare the way, we may find the joy we’re seeking was there all along.
We might discover that the thing we’re chasing isn’t the prize. It only led us to the road we were meant to walk. To meet the people we were meant to meet.
So go ahead. Lace up your shoes at dawn. Cut that first board. Tape off all the areas you don’t want to paint. Make that first sales pitch. Get to know people you never expected to meet.
Embrace all the steps that come before the thing.
It turns out, they are the thing.
“Give me six hours to chop down a tree and I will spend the first four sharpening the axe.” — Abraham Lincoln
Sometimes the hardest limits aren’t what we believe we are…but what we’ve decided we’re not.
Leader: I’m hitting a wall. No matter how hard I try, something’s stuck. Coach: Where? Leader: Connecting with my direct reports. The one-on-one meetings. All the details. I’m just not wired for any of it. Coach: You sure? Leader: I’ve never been good at connection. I’m not super technical. I’m not touchy-feely. I’m not a detail person. Coach: Sounds like you’ve got your “not” list down cold. Leader: Isn’t that just self-awareness? Coach: Could be. Or maybe you’re protecting yourself with that list. Leader: I’m not trying to be someone I’m not. Coach: Are you avoiding someone you could become? What if the growth you’ve been chasing is on the other side of “I’m not”? Leader: What if I do all that work and don’t like what I find? Coach: Then you’ll learn something real. But what if you find a strength you didn’t know you had? Leader: That feels like a stretch. Coach: Growth usually does.
“Ego is as much what you don’t think you are as what you think you are.” – Joe Hudson
We usually spot ego in people who overestimate themselves. Their arrogance and swagger enter the room before they do.
But ego has a quieter side. It hides in the limits we quietly accept. Not in who we think we are, but in who we’ve decided we’re not.
“I’m not technical.” “I’m not good at details.” “I hate public speaking.”
These negations, the things we distance ourselves from, might feel like declarations of strength and clarity.
But often they are boundaries we’ve unconsciously placed around our identity. Once we’ve drawn these lines, we stop growing beyond them. They protect us from challenges, discomfort, and the hard work we know will be required.
Leaders who define themselves by what they aren’t often:
-Avoid feedback that challenges their identity.
-Miss chances to adapt or grow.
-Choose the path of least resistance.
-Struggle to connect with different types of people.
-Dismiss skills they haven’t developed (yet).
If you’re feeling stuck, ask yourself:
-What am I avoiding by saying, “I’m not that”?
-What am I protecting by holding on to that story?
-What might open up if I let it go?
Sometimes the next chapter of growth begins not with a new strength, but with a willingness to loosen our grip on the stories we tell ourselves.
If you want to grow as a leader—or help others grow—it’s not enough to ask, “Who am I?”
You also have to ask, “What am I willing to become?”
We know about Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs and how our wants and desires are like a pyramid that goes from our basic needs up to our desire for self-actualization. The Pareto Principle reminds us that 80% of our results come from 20% of our efforts, helping us focus on what truly moves the needle. Saint Ignatius’s Spiritual Exercises guide us through discernment, teaching us to distinguish between what brings life and what drains it.
But there’s another framework worth considering: the evolution of what we consider important throughout our lives.
As kids, we know what’s most important. It usually revolves around attention, followed by winning at whatever we are doing, which we think will get us more of that attention we crave. Everything feels urgent. Every disappointment feels permanent. The world revolves around us, and that’s exactly as it should be for a child learning to navigate life.
Teenagers start to focus on freedom, independence, and figuring out what they’re going to do when they grow up (whatever that means). They often reject what their parents value. Sometimes for good reasons, sometimes solely because rebellion feels necessary for finding their own path. What matters most is breaking free from the constraints that feel suffocating, even when those constraints were designed to protect them.
As young adults, we’re getting started, establishing our independent life, our financial foundations, our career foundations…at least we’re trying to get these things established. We’re in acquisition mode: getting the job, the apartment (maybe a house), the relationship, the respect (something we crave more than attention at this stage). We often dismiss advice from older generations, convinced they don’t understand how different the world is now.
Then something interesting happens.
As the decades flow by, what was important a few years ago, isn’t. We start to think about how to serve others, help our kids flourish, help their kids flourish. The shift is gradual but profound. From getting to giving, from proving ourselves to improving the lives of others.
Major life events accelerate this evolution. A health scare makes us realize that all the success in the world doesn’t matter if we’re not here to enjoy the fruits of our labor. The birth of a child or grandchild suddenly makes legacy more important than achievement. The loss of a parent reminds us that time is finite, and relationships are irreplaceable.
Sometimes the shift happens more quietly. Earlier this week, two co-workers were discussing the NBA finals and asked me what I thought of Game 2. I had to admit that I haven’t followed basketball since the Magic Johnson era of the Lakers. As we talked, it became clear to me that I haven’t followed any sports—except for the Savannah Bananas baseball team’s shenanigans—in many years.
What captures my attention now? I’m drawn to watching people live their best lives in rural settings, building homesteads for themselves and their families. I find myself rooting for others to succeed in their chosen vocations, nothing more, nothing less. It’s not that sports became unimportant because they were bad. They just became less important than something else that feeds my soul more deeply.
As we get older, preserving our health, and the freedom that comes with it, moves toward the top of our priority list. Interesting how the freedom we sought as teenagers is still important to us in our senior years, but for different reasons. Then, we wanted freedom and thought we were ready for responsibility.
Now, we want freedom to focus on what truly matters. Freedom to be present for the people we love, freedom to contribute in meaningful ways, freedom from the noise that once seemed so important.
There’s a beautiful irony in how we often spend the first half of our lives accumulating things, achievements, and accolades, only to spend the second half learning to let go of what doesn’t serve us. We chase complexity when we’re young and value simplicity as we mature.
Questions worth considering:
– What would happen if we could skip ahead and see what our 70-year-old self considers important? What about our 80-year-old self? Would we make different choices today knowing what they know?
– Why do we have to learn the hard way that some of the things we chase don’t matter? Is there wisdom in the struggle, or are we just stubborn?
– How can we be more intentional about evolving our priorities on our terms instead of waiting for time to do it?
– What if we could honor the lessons each life stage provides without completely losing face and dismissing what came before?
The evolution of importance isn’t about getting it right or wrong at any particular stage. It’s recognizing that growth means what we value will shift.
That’s not a bug in the system. It’s a feature. The teenager’s desire for freedom isn’t foolish. It’s necessary for their development. The young adult’s focus on building a foundation isn’t shallow. It’s essential for future stability.
Perhaps the real wisdom comes in staying curious about what matters most. Knowing that the answer will keep evolving. And maybe, just maybe, we can learn to trust that each stage of life has something valuable to teach us about what’s truly important.
The key is staying awake to the lessons, even when they challenge what we thought we knew for certain.
Ask someone how their day went, and odds are, they’ll say, “Busy.”
Dig a little deeper, and you’ll hear about the fires they had to put out, the urgent requests from their boss, or the upset customers they had to talk in off the ledge. Everyone’s racing from task to task, reacting to whatever pops up next.
What you don’t hear—at least not often—is someone saying, “Today I worked on our 30-day goals,” or, “I spent the afternoon exploring how AI might streamline our operations,” or, “I studied what our competitors are doing better than we are.”
Most people are caught in an infinite response loop. The big questions get pushed to tomorrow, especially if the boss isn’t asking about them anyway. And often, he’s just as busy reacting to his own list of urgent problems.
Response mode is easy. You don’t have to choose what matters most. Just deal with what’s in front of you. There’s no time for stepping back, rethinking the process, or preventing tomorrow’s fires today. You stay busy. That way, you can tell yourself you’re still needed.
And when the day ends, you can point to everything you handled and feel like you earned your paycheck.
But the real questions are: Did you move any of your monthly, quarterly, or annual goals forward? Do you even know what they are?
For many, the answers are no and definitely no.
Working in the business is the default. It’s safe and familiar. It keeps your hands full.
Working on the business is different. It takes time, thought, and courage. It means facing questions without clear answers. It means exploring new tools, unlearning old habits, and imagining better ways to serve your customers.
No fires today? Is your boss on vacation? Sounds like an easy day.
But if no one thinks about what’s next, if no one is asking what should change or improve, and if no one is steering the ship, that ship will eventually drift. Maybe into a storm. Maybe into the rocks.
And no one will notice until it’s too late.
So, ask yourself: Are you steering, or just responding?
Side note: These questions apply outside of work. If we’re not actively steering in our personal lives, we can just as easily find ourselves in a storm we could have avoided, running aground on some rocks, or drifting aimlessly out to sea.
To assume that delays are normal. That long lead times are just “the way things are.” That bureaucracy is an immovable force we’re all meant to quietly and endlessly orbit.
But here’s the question we should be asking: Does something really take months to get done…or is that just the rut talking?
Ruts are sneaky. They dress up as policies, forms, regulatory frameworks, meetings, approvals.
They start small. Maybe with one postponed decision or an overcautious email. Before long, they’re a deep trench. One that feels safer to live in than escape.
Some processes do require time. Some decisions need careful research and thoughtful consideration.
But not everything takes as long as we pretend. And if we’re being honest, we often lean on red tape as a crutch. To justify inaction, to mask fear, to cover for indecision, to avoid risk. Maybe to avoid the work altogether.
We say things like:
-“That’s how our system works.”
-“These things take time.”
-“We’ll have to check with Legal.”
-“I’m waiting on approvals before I can move forward.”
But what if we stopped waiting?
The 10 Million Dollar Question:
If you or your organization were promised $10 million the moment this project is completed—this thing you’re currently delaying—how long would it actually take to finish?
-How focused would you suddenly become? -How many hurdles would get knocked out of your way? -How quickly would meetings be scheduled, decisions made, and steps taken?
If your answer is “much faster,” then the rut is running the show. You’re not stuck. You and your organization are settling for the slow lane.
What if we challenge the assumptions about how long things should take?
What if we stop admiring and massaging the problem and started solving it?
What if we stop delegating or offloading the issue to another department, and just fixed it ourselves…today?
Organizations that resist the rut move faster. They ask better questions. They take the time to consider how to eliminate hurdles. They focus on outcomes, not just process. They know when structure helps, and when it hinders. They trim what’s unnecessary and protect what’s essential.
This isn’t about being reckless. It’s about refusing to be lulled into complacency. It’s about bringing urgency back to the table.
It’s about remembering that progress often begins with someone brave enough to say: “Why not now?”
If you’re feeling stuck, ask yourself: -Are you really bound by rules and timelines? Or just by a habit of delay?
Resist the rut.
Challenge the default.
Challenge the impossible and make it possible.
Push for better.
It might take less time than you think.
h/t – my colleague, Jacob Smith. An extremely productive and prolific software development manager who regularly challenges the default and always pushes for better.
There was a time I made a big leap “out the window.” I walked away from something I thought I had to escape. I didn’t have a detailed plan, just a deep sense that staying where I was would burn me out.
What I should have realized at the time was that while I was escaping one fire, I was just trading for another.
That’s the thing about decisions. They rarely come with clarity. They come wrapped in burdens and hope and urgency, all dressed up to look like certainty. But certainty is often just a story we tell ourselves to keep moving.
I’ve gone back and questioned plenty of decisions. I’ve hit pause, looked around, and asked, “Was that the right thing to do?”
Sometimes the answer is no. And that’s okay.
I’ve made wrong turns. I’ve said yes when I shouldn’t have. I’ve said no when I was afraid. But here’s something I’ve learned the hard way: wrong turns can still move us forward. Even the “mistakes” taught me something. Sometimes they were the only way I could learn the lessons I needed to learn.
Side note: If you can learn from watching someone else’s journey, that’s often preferable to taking the hard knocks that accompany most of the big lessons in life.
The truth is, not every decision will hold up to hindsight. And not every success will look like success right away. Some answers show themselves slowly. They show up only after struggle, reflection, and time. They need hardship to help them mature. Sometimes they even need failure.
I’m lucky. Along the way, there were people who didn’t try to fix me. They just stood with me while I figured it out. They gave me space to question, to re-route, to second guess. That kind of support is rare. And I’m grateful.
To those people: thank you. You helped me see what I wasn’t ready to see. You let me grow into the answers I didn’t even know I was seeking.
These days, I’ve learned to forgive myself for the detours. For the second thoughts. For the “what ifs” I’ll probably carry forever. I’ve changed my mind, more than once. With every shift, I’ve learned to find moments of peace.
Here’s the point: Maybe wandering is the way.
Wisdom doesn’t show up all at once. It grows, shifts, even contradicts itself. Sometimes it stumbles. Sometimes it starts over.
One thing I know for sure: What I thought I knew was only the beginning.
Everyone loves the big idea. The bold plan. A strong vision of what can be.
It’s easy to get excited about an amazing result. A finished project, a better version of ourselves, a breakthrough moment. But big plans mean nothing without the tools and materials to carry them out.
Goals and aspirations get a lot of attention. Preparation, usually not so much.
Preparation isn’t glamorous. No one sees the early mornings, the quiet practice, the reading, the repetitions, the small decisions and adjustments that come from thinking deeply about how to be better. But that’s where everything starts. That’s the real work.
You can’t build a tower by imagining the top floor. You start by stacking bricks. And before that, you must gather the bricks. Along with mortar. Along with the tools to lift, cut, measure, and shape. That’s what preparation is. Gathering what you’ll need to be ready when it’s time to build.
This applies to everything in life.
Want to be a better leader? Prepare by learning how to listen, how to stay calm and think under pressure, how to help your team to be their very best.
Want to level up at work? Prepare by always sharpening your skills, staying curious, looking for problems that need solutions, becoming someone your team can rely on.
Want to be a better friend, spouse, or parent? Prepare by learning to listen, to be present, and to lead with patience and love.
Want to face hard times with strength? Prepare by choosing the hard things before they choose you.
Don’t wait for life to demand something from you before you get ready. Always prepare so you willbe ready.
Ask yourself: -What materials am I gathering?
-What tools am I building?
-What productive habits am I forming when no one’s looking?
Preparation isn’t just a phase. It’s a mindset. A lifestyle.
You’re either gathering bricks—or you’re preparing to fail.
Because in the end, you won’t rise to the level of your ambition.
You’ll fall to the level of your preparation.
h/t – my friend Pete Hilger as we were discussing how to get building supplies to a rural Guatemalan city for a medical facility build project. He tossed out the line, “You can’t build a tower without first gathering a lot of bricks and mortar.”
Grandpa Bob Encouraging Leadership 
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