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Grow & Scale A Business That Will Set You Free
When You’re Tired, Do This
So many people are exhausted right now.
Maybe it’s the constant churn of the news cycle. Maybe it’s the unease in the markets. Maybe it’s the angry voices and the sense of cultural uncertainty. Maybe it’s all of it, piled on top of the already heavy load of work and life.
The truth is, we’re marinating in stress. And it’s wearing us down.
And so many of us are tired.
There’s a remedy: Rest.
It sounds simple. But it’s the last thing most of us do. We push; we grind; we wear our exhaustion like a badge of honor. We tell ourselves we’ll rest when the deal closes; when the project ends; when the kids are grown; when things “settle down.”
But things rarely settle down.
In sports and fitness, rest is not optional. It’s essential. Athletes build it into their training. Because recovery is when the growth happens.
As a high-altitude mountaineer, I know this in my bones. Every two or three days on a big climb, we schedule rest days. Not as a luxury. As survival. As strength. Our bodies need to acclimatize. To recover. To prepare for what’s next. Without rest, we fail.
Somehow in business and in life, we forget this. We ignore the signals; we keep pushing forward; we believe that we can outwork our fatigue. But we can’t.
The truth is: rest is not weakness. Rest is strategy; rest is wisdom; rest is fuel for the long game.
So if you’re exhausted—mentally, physically, emotionally—it’s not a sign to push harder. It’s a sign to stop.
To step back; to breathe; to sleep; to be with those you love.
When you’re tired, rest.
Don’t Be Zinc
The world feels raw right now.
Division. Discord. Rage.
Everywhere we turn, voices clash. Lines are drawn. People retreat to their corners. And the anger simmers, often spilling over.
It’s exhausting to live in the middle of it. To try to show up for others. To be steady in the storm. To hold space for both pain and hope.
It matters. But it’s also hard.
And if we’re not careful, it will consume us.
Here’s the image: A boat’s brass prop turning in salt water. Left unprotected, the salt eats away at the brass. The fix? A zinc anode attached to the shaft. The zinc corrodes first. It sacrifices itself so the brass is spared.
It’s a brilliant bit of engineering. But it’s a terrible way to live.
Don’t be zinc.
Because life is not about losing yourself for the sake of everyone else. Not to the point of corrosion. Not until there’s nothing left of you.
Even the most powerful leaders know this. Bill Gates is famous for his “Think Weeks,” time set apart to read, reflect, and recharge away from the demands of Microsoft. Warren Buffett deliberately blocks large portions of his calendar to think, read, and be still. Oprah has spoken often about the necessity of silence, prayer, and retreat. The most visionary leaders understand they cannot give their best unless they create space to be renewed.
We need the same.
Because the demands on us are endless. Another meeting. Another call. Another crisis. Another pull at our attention.
If we’re not intentional, we will be eaten away. Just like zinc.
So here’s the invitation: practice self-care as if your life depends on it. Because it does.
Rest. Real rest. Time when the phone is off. Time when the world turns without you.
Silence. Reflection. Space to breathe. Space to listen.
Care for the body. Sleep. Movement. Nourishment. Walks in the woods. Water to drink. A check-up when you need one.
Care for the heart. Therapy when it’s called for. A trusted friend. A circle of people who lift you up.
Joy. Play. Laughter. Music. Art. Time with those who delight you and remind you why life is good.
None of this is selfish. None of it indulgent. It is essential.
Because you can’t pour from an empty cup. You can’t give what you do not have.
So stop being zinc.
Be whole. Be grounded. Be alive with energy and joy. Serve not by corroding away, but by shining with resilience and grace.
That’s how we endure together. That’s how we thrive in a time of division. Not by grinding ourselves down. But by shining bright enough to light the way.
Lost and Found Again
My eyes scanned the shelves. I nodded and I smiled.
I recognized that I owned nearly all of the self-help books in the store. And I knew in that moment that I was finally on the road to getting better.
That was decades ago now. Yet I remember clearly the bleakness of that time. How very lost I felt.
Divorced; single parenting; raising boys; practicing law.
Making lunches; taking kids to school; racing to work; getting the calls from daycare, the fever of 102º; the homework; the soccer games; the parent-teacher meetings; the calls from the principal; and, oh yes, the clients and the cases and the employees and the office management.
Falling into bed at night, exhausted and depleted. One day melting into the next; every day like the last.
And wondering: Is that all there is? What in god’s name is the point?
Dante wrote,
Midway on our life’s journey, I found myself in dark woods, the right road lost. To tell about those woods is hard — so tangled and rough and savage that thinking of it now, I feel the old fear stirring… .
(Yup. He sure had that right.)
The truth is: All of us get lost from time to time. We lose our way. The road gets rough and savage and really hard.
None of us escapes. (It’s what brings many folks to coaching.)
And there really is no way out of that dark wood.
Good teachers and mentors and therapists, and of course dear friends, can help us along the way.
But only we can do the heavy lifting.
Nietzsche wrote, “Those who have a ‘why’ to live, can bear with almost any ‘how.’
Rediscovering our purpose, reclaiming our sense of meaning, finding again that grand vision for our lives, allowing for the possibility of our dreams, getting in touch again with what quickens our hearts, what fires our imaginations: This is where the work is done. These are what finally lead us to the forest clearing.
Because your purpose is your power; and a purpose-driven life is a life on fire.
I remember climbing Mt. St. Helens after it had erupted, the volcanic ash ankle deep, two steps up, one step back. A demoralizing slog.
But the view; oh the view from the top, across that landscape of renewal and regrowth: It was magnificent.
And the slide back down the hill such fun.
It’s kinda like that.
So don’t despair. You will find your way through.
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Purpose work is some of the toughest work people do. I know that it’s some of the toughest I have ever done. Coaching folks along this path is a tremendous privilege. I’d love to be your guide. Email me when the time is right: [email protected]
Stay Curious
There is so much rancor in the world right now. So much division. So much anger and hostility.
And it’s not just “out there.” It shows up at work. It shows up in our families. It even shows up at our own dinner tables.
When the temperature rises, it’s easy to retreat. To hunker down in our corners. To surround ourselves with people who see the world exactly as we do. It feels safer that way.
But safer doesn’t always mean better.
One of the things I loved most about law school was that we could disagree—passionately. We could argue cases, precedents, and principles all day long. And then, when classes ended, we could head out together for pizza and beer. The debates didn’t make anyone wrong or bad. We still cared for one another. We still laughed and enjoyed each other’s company.
That experience has stayed with me. It taught me something powerful. Disagreement is not the same as division. Debate is not the same as disdain. We don’t have to demonize the people who see things differently.
Not all of us see the world in the same way. And that’s okay. In fact, it’s better that way. Diversity of thought, of background, of experience—it’s what allows us to grow. It’s what sparks creativity. It’s what keeps us from getting stuck in echo chambers where all we hear is the sound of our own voices bouncing back at us.
But for that growth to happen, we need to choose curiosity.
Curiosity shifts the conversation. It takes us from “You’re wrong” to “Help me understand.” It allows us to ask questions instead of firing back answers. It helps us see the human being across from us, rather than the “enemy” we’ve created in our minds.
Curiosity softens us. It invites connection.
It doesn’t mean we’ll always agree. It doesn’t mean we’ll suddenly see eye-to-eye on politics, or faith, or how best to run a business. But it means we’ll stay open. We’ll stay engaged. And when we do that, we keep alive the possibility of respect—and maybe even relationship.
The world doesn’t need more people retreating into their corners. The world needs people willing to sit at the same table, willing to listen, willing to stay curious.
Because in the end, we’re in this together. We share this world. We share our workplaces, our communities, our families. And we’ll only thrive if we can learn to live together—not as clones of one another, but as fellow travelers who choose to honor the dignity of every person we encounter.
So the next time you find yourself ready to shut down, to turn away, to dig in your heels—pause. Ask a question. Listen to the answer.
Stay curious.
Now More Than Ever
Good coaches have coaches. In fact, when I train and certify coaches, I require that the candidate be working with a coach.
For the last eighteen years, I have relied on my own coach. Because like every other human being, I have the capacity to doubt, to falter, to feel overwhelmed, to get down, or to get in my own way. My coach is a wise guide, a mentor, and a mirror.
I cannot imagine not having her in my life. Especially now.
We live in an age of distortion. Every day, it feels harder to know what to trust, who to trust, or where to turn. Technology has given us more data, more opinions, more voices, but it hasn’t given us clarity. Often it feels as if we are surrounded by reflections and distortions, unsure of what is real.
In times like these, a wise guide becomes indispensable. Someone grounded. Someone steady. Someone who can help us navigate the noise, filter the chaos, and keep moving toward what matters most.
There’s an old African proverb: If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together. The truth is that none of us can see our blind spots by ourselves. None of us succeed entirely on our own.
It’s axiomatic in sports and entertainment. The top athletes have coaches, often several. The great performers rely on mentors, teachers, and directors. People at the very top of their games know that excellence is not a solo pursuit. It’s a product of guidance, feedback, and accountability.
The same is true in business and in life. Yet too often, people think of coaching as a commodity. A quick fix. A short-term solution to a pressing problem. But that misses the point. Coaching at its best is not transactional. It’s transformational.
It is a relationship built on trust. A place where you can tell the truth without judgment. A partnership that grounds you, challenges you, and helps you see a bigger vision for your life and work.
In my own journey, my coach has been that steady presence. A voice of reason when the world felt overwhelming. A mirror when I couldn’t see clearly. A guide who helped me discover deeper strength and new possibilities.
Now more than ever, in a world of uncertainty and noise, we need that kind of relationship. We need wise guides who can help us not just survive, but thrive.
If you’ve ever wondered whether the time might be right for you to have a coach, perhaps this is your moment. A simple conversation can open a door.
Need help? Let’s talk. Email me: [email protected]
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