Vision – Grandpa Bob Encouraging Leadership

The Space Where Imagination Still Lives

A sentence in a science fiction novel stopped me recently. It was a small line, easy to roll past, but it stayed with me long after I put it down.

“I’m proud of my imagination.”

I found myself wondering if I had ever thought of it that way. Proud. The bigger question that followed was a little more unsettling. Am I still using my imagination fully, or is it something I can see, but always remains just a few steps beyond my reach?

Most of us think of imagination as something that belongs to childhood. Living room forts. Long summer days that lasted forever. Stories invented simply because it was fun to live inside them for a while.

Then life moves forward and the tone shifts. Our imagination grows up with us. It gets invited into planning meetings and project updates. It earns its place by helping things get built, improved, delivered. It becomes practical.

That kind of imagination matters. It’s the force behind homes that rise from empty ground, companies that begin as ideas scribbled on paper, and communities that take shape one decision at a time. Many of the most meaningful things in life begin with a simple question. What if this could exist? And then our imagination stays long enough to help bring it into the world.

Yet there’s another layer, the one that’s harder to reach. Imagination without a destination. The kind that wanders. The kind that lets our curiosity move without a map, without an audience, without a finish line waiting just ahead.

Modern life doesn’t make much room for wandering. We reward clarity. We celebrate speed. Productivity gets our applause. Wandering gets a polite nod and then we move on.

Even creativity, when it happens, can start to lean toward usefulness. We think about who might care, how something might land, whether this is worth sharing. Before long, our imagination is wearing work clothes every day.

Still, the wandering version never disappears. It shows itself in moments we almost miss. A line in a book that makes us pause. A quiet walk where our thoughts drift farther than we planned. Standing on an open piece of land and picturing laughter and conversations that haven’t happened yet, paths that haven’t yet been carved.

Those moments feel different. The air seems a little wider. Time stretches just enough for possibility to breathe.

Imagination is our ability to see long before we start to solve.

Across a lifetime it takes different forms.

-Playful imagination delights in possibility simply because it can.
-Building imagination turns vision into action and ideas into reality.
-Generative imagination pictures future experiences, future conversations, future memories waiting somewhere ahead.

Most of us live primarily in the second and third forms. We plan, design, and visualize. We imagine with purpose. The playful version visits less often, but when it arrives it carries a spark that feels unmistakable.

Part of what makes it harder to access is our internal voice of evaluation. Our mind asks its questions automatically. Does this make sense? Is this useful? Would anyone care? These questions help us bring ideas into the world. They also narrow our horizons.

Artists talk about the deep joy in creating something they love for its own sake. Then a second round of joy when that creation resonates with others. The order matters. Self first. Audience second. When the sequence holds, the work feels alive. The same may be true of imagination itself.

Imagination grows stronger when it has somewhere to roam. It expands when it’s allowed to exist without immediate purpose. That permission can live in small choices. Letting a thought run a little longer. Following an idea that seems interesting even if it leads nowhere. Sitting with possibility without rushing to decide what it means.

The wandering and the purposeful are partners. Each strengthens the other. The freedom to explore deepens our clarity to build. When imagination has room to stretch, what we create carries more life inside of it.

That line from the novel stayed with me because it felt less like a statement and more like a quiet commitment. To keep my imagination active. To keep it close at hand. To let it wander often enough that it never forgets how.

Maybe that’s the invitation for all of us. Keep a small door open. Let imagination step outside the boundaries of usefulness from time to time. Let it explore without needing a reason.

Because the farther our imagination travels, the richer life feels when we return.

Photo by Dobranici Florin on Unsplash – I can imagine a bunch of things in this photo, but the main reason I chose it is the way the sun glows on the fence posts. I made you look again, didn’t I.

Bring Them On the Journey

You can tell people what to do, and sometimes that’s the right call. Yet, direction without participation creates compliance instead of commitment.

When people understand the purpose, see where they fit, and have a voice in the direction, they’ll take emotional ownership.

The best leaders invite that ownership by asking questions that open doors to insight. What are we missing? What would you try? Where do you see the risk? These questions are invitations to shape the work and the results.

When a product manager asks her team, “How would you approach this?” instead of presenting a finished plan, the solutions that emerge are sharper, and the team building them gets stronger.

Humans are built for both independence and belonging, desires that often pull in different directions. Wise leaders guide this tension well. They give people space to grow while connecting them to something larger than themselves.

To bring others on the journey is to build together. Growth is shared. Trust expands. When the path gets steep, they’ll keep climbing with purpose.

They remember the reasons, because they helped shape the path.

Photo by Powrock Mountain Guides on Unsplash – Unsplash has a ton of amazing hiking photos, mountain climbing photos, pictures of maps, legos, and winding paths. All would have represented the themes of this post admirably. But this photo caught my eye.

How do you see it connecting to this post? What makes this photo stand out? How hard do you think it is to hike across to that gleaming white mountain in the distance?

Climbing in Times of Change

René Daumal titled his unfinished novel, Mount Analogue. It describes a peak, “whose summit is inaccessible by ordinary means.” The mountain can only be reached through inner transformation, making it both a place and an analogy for our journey of struggle toward resilience and clarity in the fog.

Leadership in upheaval can feel similar. Our map runs out. The ground shifts. We carry only our memories. Some sharp with regret, others shining with joy. Yet even scars can become footholds for our climb.

Daumal wrote, “You cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down again. So why bother in the first place? Just this: what is above knows what is below, but what is below does not know what is above.”

The summit gives leaders perspective. From above, we see connections hidden from the valley floor. The shape of the landscape, how the streams converge, where the shadows fall and light breaks through. We descend changed by what we’ve seen, and those who walk beside us are steadied by our vision.

History shows us that change always reshapes our climb. The printing press, the steam engine, electricity, space travel, and global connectivity to name a few. Artificial intelligence is the latest steep slope, bringing fear, excitement, and possibility all at once.

Leaders can steady others by naming the change clearly, framing the opportunities, modeling ways to adapt, and keeping purpose at the center of the change.

Daumal died before finishing his book. It breaks off mid-sentence. A fitting metaphor for leadership. Unfinished, unresolved, always in motion.

Leadership is the willingness to prepare others for the climb, walking faithfully with them, and offering perspective so they can see what’s possible…and dare to tackle the climb themselves.

h/t – James Clear for showing a quote from this book that sent me down the path to learn more about Mount Analogue.

Photo by Caleb Lumingkit on Unsplash

Eyes That Understand – Welcoming our Ninth Grandchild

This week, a new set of eyes entered the world — our ninth grandchild, a baby girl. Her eyes are just beginning their work. They don’t yet see clearly. Like all newborns, her vision starts in soft focus. She sees light, shadows, movement, and faces held close. She knows the warmth of her mother’s arms, the cadence of her father’s voice, and, if I’m lucky, the gentle presence of her grandparents too.

In time, her eyes will begin to sharpen. She’ll see faces from across the room, the toys just out of her reach, her siblings and cousins. Then, the world outside the window. A broader picture will come into her view.

But even as her eyesight expands, her perspective will remain near. She’ll see how things affect her first. Hunger, comfort, joy, frustration. Her world will center on her own experience, as it should for a child learning what it means to be alive.

And then she will grow. With years and love and bumps along the way, she will begin to see more than just herself. She’ll learn to recognize others’ emotions, to feel their joy and pain. Her perspective will widen to include her friends, her extended family, her community. She will see how her actions ripple and impact others, how choices matter not just to her, but to those around her.

As more time passes, she may begin to understand something deeper. That perception is not the same as truth. That others see the same moment, the same memory, from very different angles. She’ll begin to recognize that we all wear lenses shaped by experience, belief, hope, and hurt.

And if she keeps growing, keeps learning, keeps loving, she may even come to understand the beauty in those differences. To act not just from clarity of vision, but from clarity of heart.

Even as her vision someday blurs a bit, may her wisdom sharpen. May she see what matters most. May she understand not only what is, but what could be. May she seek the life-giving fulfilment of a loving life.

And may she, in time, pass on her vision.

What We Learn to See

She was born into light too bright to grasp,
her gaze flickering toward warmth,
held by arms she could not name.

A nose. A smile. A voice that hums,
these are the shapes she first learns to trust.

Her world is inches wide.

Then, little by little,
the room expands.
Familiar faces move,
toys beckon from across the room.

Still, her eyes are mirrors,
reflecting only her own need:
Am I safe? Am I loved?
Does the world answer me?

Time stretches her view. She sees hurt in another’s face.
Joy in someone else’s triumph.
She learns that not all stories are her own.

She learns to ask: How do you see it?
And to listen for an answer.

Mistakes come. Grace follows.
She learns that sight alone isn’t understanding.
That clarity is earned, not given.

Years pass. Vision fades.
But somehow, she sees more than ever,
about herself and the world around her.

What once was blur is now meaning.
What once was noise is now truth.
What once was about her becomes about others.

And in her twilight vision,
she turns to the child,
whose eyes are still new,
and whispers:

Look close, little one,
and then look again.
You’ll stumble, and that’s part of the seeing.
You’ll hurt, and that’s part of the knowing.

Take the vision I’ve earned —
not perfect, but practiced.
Carry it forward,
along with all my love,
and the hopes I hold in my heart for you.

p/c – A photo of our daughters taken almost 30 years ago (!) They’re now passing their love, perspectives, and life lessons to their own children. Happy Mother’s Day!

Taking Your Team on a Vision Quest

In the early 2000s, I attended one of our company’s national meetings. Our new CEO opened the meeting with a keynote address.

After thanking everyone for attending, he discussed the company’s three key strategic initiatives. He tied each of them back to the overall goals and mission of the company, underscoring how critical each manager attending the meeting (and our teams) would be to making these initiatives come to fruition.

His address lasted about fifteen minutes. He had a few slides to accompany his talk, but nothing flashy. In those fifteen minutes, we understood his vision, what we were supposed to do, and how we were empowered to make it happen. We were unified and energized.

Later that day, I thanked him for his talk. I mentioned how concise it was and appreciated that he didn’t spend an hour on CEO-speak and rah-rah platitudes. He smiled and explained that he was concise because he articulates versions of that talk multiple times each day.

He shared that wherever he traveled, whenever he visited one of our company’s offices or met with employees or customers, he made sure they understood what we were doing and how important each of them was to the company’s success. He knew that in a company with over 15,000 employees, it was impossible to speak to or know every one of them. But, whenever he encountered employees, he knew they’d remember what he said and appreciate knowing how they are connected to the company’s success.

He was so concise and effective because he lived and breathed the vision and its importance every day and shared it freely with everyone.

Applying This in Your Leadership

You don’t have to be a Fortune 100 CEO to communicate like this. As a servant leader, commit to using your finite time and energy to communicate openly and freely with your team members. Make sure they understand the plan and their part in it. Take time to understand the challenges they face, listen to their ideas, ask probing questions, and let them know how important they are to the success of the department, division, or company.

Your team can’t wait to accompany you on a vision quest. They just need to know what they’re doing, where they’re going, and that you value their contribution to the quest.

Effective communication from leadership is not about the quantity of words but the quality of the message. By being concise, clear, and consistent, you can inspire and motivate your team to achieve great things.

Start today by articulating your vision and showing your team how much you value their contributions.

Photo by jesse orrico on Unsplash

Making the Clay: A parable about how projects come to life.

p/c WAI – John Cargile

In the dim glow of his studio, the sculptor stood before a vast expanse of pristine clay, lost in thought. His mind danced with visions of what he would create—a masterpiece that would captivate hearts and minds, a testament to his skill and vision. Yet, before his hands could shape the clay, there were crucial steps to take, like preparing the raw material before the artistry could begin.

As he contemplated the sculpture taking form in his mind’s eye, he pondered the perspectives he would bring to his creation. Each angle, each curve held significance, and he knew that his vision would resonate differently with each observer. He envisioned the awe in their eyes, the whispers of admiration as they saw his work.

But this sculpture would be unlike any he had attempted before—it would be monumental, stretching skyward in grandeur. The clay alone would not suffice; he would need the finest materials that could withstand the test of time. Yet, the cost of these materials weighed heavily on his mind. It was a venture that would require more than just his own resources.

Thus, he embarked on a journey to seek investors—patrons who believed in his vision and were willing to invest in its realization. With their support, he would procure the materials necessary to bring his creation to life. But it was not just financial backing he sought; he needed a team of skilled artisans who would join him on this sculpting journey.

Finding the right team was no small feat. Each member would bring their own expertise and perspective, enriching the project with their unique talents. Yet, it was not just a matter of talent—they would need to share his passion and commitment, willing to sacrifice their own pursuits to see the vision through.

And so, he set out to assemble his team, each member drawn by the promise of being part of something extraordinary. Yet, he knew that their dedication could not go unrewarded. He would provide for them, ensuring they had the means to sustain themselves as they poured their hearts and souls into the project.

With each detail meticulously planned, he secured a space large enough to accommodate the monumental sculpture, a blank canvas upon which his vision would take shape. And in his heart, he held onto the hope that there would be a patron waiting in the wings, eager to claim his creation as their own. A customer.

As he surveyed the clay before him, he saw not just a mound of earth, but the embodiment of possibility—the first step in a journey that would culminate in something truly extraordinary.

With determination burning bright in his eyes, the sculptor began to mold the clay, each touch infused with passion and purpose. He knew that before the sculpture could stand tall, it must first be brought to life in the fertile soil of his imagination.

Sound familiar?

If you launch a new idea, a new project, a new company, or a new rocket…you’re the sculptor. You alone see your vision. To see this new vision come to life, you will need to gather others, inspire them, challenge them, and ultimately organize your new team toward the goal of making your vision a reality.

It won’t be easy. Great things never are. You’ll risk failure at every turn. You’ll have to overcome challenges you never knew existed.

But you’ll never achieve meaningful success in your project (whatever it is) without taking the risk, making the clay, gathering your team, and ultimately bringing your vision to life.

I have one favor to ask: If you like this content and think someone else will like it as well, please forward this post to them.

Exceeding Your Vision

The following is not an excerpt from my new book, Leadership Starts (and Ends) in Your Head…the rest is detail. But, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention it here (and highly recommend it).

-What do you want to be when you grow up?

-Now that you’ve graduated, what are your plans?

-Congratulations on your marriage. Here’s to a long and happy life! Where are you two planning to live?

-I heard about your new job. That’s great! What are your prospects for career growth there?

-I heard you don’t really like your job? What would you do if money wasn’t an object?

Each of these questions are about goals and vision. Where do you see yourself today and in the future? What defines success for you and how will you get there? What path are you on and will it get you where you want to go?

But, what happens when you reach your future? Will you know you’ve arrived? What happens when your vision for the future comes true?

You achieve, even exceed, everything you had in mind when you started. You exceed your vision.

Sounds like a good problem to have.

Consider the retiree who has no idea what to do with his/her time now that work doesn’t occupy their day. The stay-at-home mom whose kids are all grown up and moved away. The thirty-two-year-old internet entrepreneur who just sold his company for $500 million. They have reached their goal line, that place they’ve dreamed about.

Their vision led them here, but what’s next?

I’m reminded of a quote by Walt Disney: “All of our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.”

For most, the courageous part is the pursuit. For others, courage is their willingness to find new dreams when the first ones come true.

As we go through our lives, chasing goals, climbing mountains, and living the dream, it might be worthwhile to extend our vision. Look past our first set of goals; the ones that occupy most of our time.

Look toward the greater goals, and broader definitions of our dreams. Seek the true definition of our potential. Our ultimate purpose.

Consult not your fears but your hopes and your dreams. Think not about your frustrations, but about your unfulfilled potential. Concern yourself not with what you tried and failed in, but with what it is still possible for you to do. -Pope John XXIII