Amidst the pace and pressure of public service leadership, I’ve found mindfulness to be less a retreat from the work—and more a way to meet it well. This reflection explores how the quiet tools I first learned on mindfulness teacher training retreat have become a steady thread through the leadership programs I design and facilitate.

A simple piece of firewood led me to a deeper question about purpose. In craft, as in life, the invitation is always the same: how can I be of use?

In my work in leadership development, I explore a wide range of topics—each a thread that can weave into a stronger, more connected life and workplace. Resources like Echoes from the Edge offer thoughtful provocations—ideas that stretch us, ground us, and guide us toward growth.

Luck, I believe, does not come like ‘Grace’ - unbidden and without effort on your part, it comes through your ability to get out of your own way. It requires patience and it requires some willingness to accept, even those difficulties that arise in your path.
When we engage with difficulty, we also engage more deeply with our own resourcefulness. We start to see potential where others see waste.

There's something powerful about seeing not what a thing is, but what it could become. It’s what artists do—and it’s what we do when we lead. When we coach. When we grow. We look beyond the surface. We sense the potential. We bring shape to the unseen.

I write to influence, but true influence comes from authenticity. As a transformative coach, I help leaders uncover insights that let them stay true to themselves while navigating complexity and change. If you’re on the path to deeper self-awareness and want to explore how coaching can help you find your authentic voice, reach out. Let’s talk.

Our experience of stress is shaped less by the challenges we face and more by how we respond to them. The more aware we become of our automatic reactions, the more we can interrupt them, creating space for better, calmer choices. This clarity is the foundation for making more effective decisions.

Attachment keeps us from connecting with what’s real in the moment. Instead of sensing and accepting things as they are, we’re constantly searching for something better, something more. The practice of observing attachment allows you to create space between stimulus and response.

How often do we see the full humanity of those around us—or even ourselves? In the rush of life, anger and assumptions cloud our perception, pulling us away from the present moment. By asking “Who else is this person?” we open the door to surprising insights, deeper connection, and a clearer path forward.

In the rush to "choose our battles," we risk detaching not just from conflict but from connection itself. Detachment may feel safe, but it anesthetizes the heart, clouding our ability to see and respond clearly. True clarity and collaboration emerge when we let go of detachment and lean into connection.

Restlessness scatters our attention, pulling us away from the present moment. Yet focus isn’t about never losing attention—it’s about learning to return. By calming the storm of agitation, we uncover the clarity and presence needed to navigate life’s demands with wisdom and grace.

Doubt clouds the mind like suspended mud in water, whispering the story of “not enough.” But doubt isn’t a roadblock—it’s a guidepost. By naming it and embracing the wisdom of not knowing, we can move beyond limiting beliefs and find clarity and confidence on the Insightful Path.

In this post, I reflect on a powerful experience I had while on an approximate 5,500-kilometer solo walk across America, searching for purpose. One of the standout moments came in Sully, Iowa, where I encountered a 60-foot-tall sculpture made from over 200 welded wagon wheels, created by 90-year-old Leonard J. Maasdam. His untrained, intuitive approach to art inspired me to think about the nature of creativity—how it can live in all of us, regardless of formal training. This post explores how art, like Maasdam’s wheel tower, is not confined to galleries or schools; it’s something universal that can be experienced and created by anyone.

There’s a quiet, often overlooked truth about how we show up in the world: what we wear profoundly impacts the way we approach the tasks, challenges, and relationships that shape our professional lives. For many of us, the office, even if that office is at home, is more than just a physical space; it’s where we cultivate ideas, solutions, and contributions that reflect our values and sense of purpose. But before any of that can happen, we first need to prepare ourselves. And one of the most important ways to do that is by carefully considering what we wear.

For the longest time, I viewed networking through the lens of numbers. I was told as a beginning entrepreneur, that it was a ‘numbers game’. It was all about accumulating connections—more people, more possibilities. I was told that the larger my network, the more impact I could have. It was a game of growth, one I thought was measured in metrics: followers, connections, messages sent, and posts posted. The problem with this approach, however, is that it subtly drove my communication style in a direction I hadn’t fully realized. It became transactional, impersonal, and it just felt less valuable.

Gratitude often feels like a soft, passive emotion—something we express when things are going well or when we’re on the receiving end of kindness. But there’s another kind of gratitude, one that’s far more active and interwoven with the work we do in the world. As a coach, I’ve come to understand gratitude as not just a response to life’s gifts but as something that emerges through deep, reciprocal human connection.

It’s easy to become overwhelmed by the weight of the world today. Between the ongoing challenges of climate change, political division, and economic uncertainty, it can feel as though the world is moving faster than we can keep up. This feeling of disruption can often lead us to retreat into old ways of thinking, or to dismiss the urgency of change entirely. But the truth is that our commitment to improving society—building something better for ourselves, our children, and future generations—may depend not just on the changes we make but on the narrative we embrace to face them.

This post is about three wonderful humans, all from different contexts, but all who have stories that inspired me, and, I hope, will inspire you too. They are souls who have gone before, endured much, and somehow managed to make a difference. The stories of those souls who inspire me with their journey of insight, and I hope they will help you to return to connecting with your best self - and make a difference in whatever context you are in.

Art matters. It can inspire, or inform. It can provoke, and make people think. It can be pleasing to the eye, or confronting to the soul. But art, good art, has power.

Recently I travelled the three hours to one of my favourite art galleries, the Art Gallery of NSW, in Sydney, Australia to, in these surreal times, see to work of one of the most famous of the Surrealists, Belgian painter and provocateur, Rene Magritte.

Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative and creation, there is one elementary truth the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. -W.H. Murray, 1950