We’re living in a season where pressure is the default.
Economic instability. Layoffs. Rising tension in boardrooms and on the frontlines. Every leader I speak with is holding more than they signed up for. And in the chaos, there’s one reflex I see often—even in the most seasoned among us:
React. Fix. Move fast.
I understand it because I’ve done it. In moments of uncertainty, it’s easy to confuse urgency with importance. We move quickly, not always because we have clarity, but because sitting in discomfort feels impossible.
But over the years, I’ve learned that what feels bad isn’t always wrong, and what feels urgent isn’t always essential. Some of the most meaningful leadership decisions I’ve made were forged not in certainty, but in that raw space where everything felt unsettled.
Discomfort as a Signal, Not a Threat
Discomfort has become my teacher.
I’ve led through organizational shakeups, personal misalignment, and moments when the pressure nearly took my breath away. At first, I saw discomfort as a warning sign—a reason to pull back or fix something fast. But over time, I realized that discomfort is often a signal, not of failure, but of friction, of misalignment, of something underneath the surface asking to be seen.
We talk a lot about growth, transformation, and reinvention. But we often forget that these things don’t come wrapped in ease. They show up through tension. And it’s in that tension where real leaders do their most profound work.
What the System Needs
When everything feels urgent, we tend to focus on patching symptoms. We make decisions to relieve pressure, not to heal the root.
But systems—whether teams, organizations, or our internal frameworks—don’t need quick fixes. They need insight. They need perspective. They need leaders who can ask the hard questions when the noise gets loud:
- What is this tension revealing?
- Who benefits now, and who might pay the price later?
- What does the system genuinely need—even if it’s uncomfortable for me?
It’s not easy work. It takes a different kind of strength. Not the strength to push harder, but the strength to pause, listen, and think more deeply.
The Fire Isn’t Always Destruction
There’s a metaphor I keep returning to.
From a distance, a forest fire looks like devastation. Trees collapse, and smoke clouds everything. The instinct is to put it out.
But those who understand ecosystems know better. Fires are often essential. They clear the undergrowth, nourish the soil, and create space for new growth. Without them, the system becomes fragile and overgrown.
Leadership often mirrors that same paradox in uncertain times. What seems like destruction—loss, change, discomfort—may actually be preparing the ground for something stronger, more sustainable, and more aligned.
Leading for Meaning, Not Just Momentum
You’re likely being pulled in a dozen directions if you’re a leader right now. People are looking to you for answers. The weight can feel crushing. But here’s what I want to offer:
You don’t have to move fast to be effective.
You don’t have to pretend to have it all figured out. You need the courage to pause, reflect, and lead not from fear, but from meaning.
Because when we lead for meaning, not just momentum, we make decisions that serve more than the next quarter. We serve the long game. We serve our people. We serve ourselves.
That kind of leadership doesn’t just survive hard times.
It transforms them.
If you’re navigating this tension and want to think through it with someone who’s been there, I’m here. Not to fix, but to explore what’s possible.
Let’s talk.