Wordplay
Thoughts & Musings
On
Leadership
There's an endless stream of thought leadership in the business world on the mere concept of Leadership. The archetypes are pervasive. Harvard Business Review has an article on "The 6 Common Leadership Styles—and How to Decide Which to Use When." These all relate to leading others. But what about those moments that require us to lead ourselves? Those moments of chaos and upheaval hanging on the precipice of a bitter, but perhaps sweet, metamorphosis?
I'm of the opinion that, first and foremost, 'Leadership' is always fundamentally about leading oneself. That, in and of itself, requires that we not only have the capacity to do so but also the courage to surrender to it. Self-Leadership necessitates that we pause to consider context and look deeply into cracked mirrors, making amends to reclaim our emotions and the waves upon which they ride.
For then, and only then, will we see clearly through the storm of reality, rather than the perceived and aging narrative of "navigating ambiguity." We don't navigate it. We name it. We call it what it is: Chaos sometimes for the sake of chaos. And isn't chaos a theory of change? Isn't change necessary for growth?
We falter in our ability to lead ourselves through the madness when we lose sight of our interconnection—when our egos cause our words and actions to fall out of alignment, impacting ourselves and others. Hello, Self. It's me, __________. Are you there?
On
Emotions
Ah, the emotionality of being human. To emote is to be human, yet so often we fear this part of ourselves. At this stage in life, I have come to embrace the wisdom held within the full spectrum of my emotions. As someone who speaks two languages (one much less frequently than the other) and who believes that ancestral languages never leave us—they simply mutate in form of expression—I find that the English language often feels limiting. It rarely captures the visceral, whole-body, whole-mind, whole-heart experience of certain emotions. Sometimes, there simply aren't words (at least not that I'm aware of) to convey the depth of a particular feeling.
Over the years, I've noticed how often we're encouraged to control our emotions, to manage them carefully so as not to create discomfort or offense. While I agree that emotions need not cause harm to ourselves or others, I believe in fully experiencing and validating each one. To emote is to be human, and what a beautiful thing it is to feel the kaleidoscopic range of emotions where truth waits to be revealed. Control may offer a sense of security, but it does not bring us closer to truth—not in controlling others, and certainly not in attempting to control the insights and wisdom wrapped within our own emotions.
Feel your way to truth.
On
Ambiguity
Where some see ambiguity, I often see clarity—an almost intuitive ability to discern hidden patterns and solutions. This drive for clarity often feels like having a special pair of glasses that reveal possibilities where others might perceive barriers. It’s not about having all the answers but rather about recognizing potential where others may see only obstacles. Some may call it a strength, a gift even, but it’s also a drive that stems from a deep desire to resolve issues that need not persist—at least not for as long as they often do.
I might call it “expedient problem-solving,” but if I’m honest, this drive often stems from impatience—the familiar tension between seeing clear paths forward and waiting days, months, even years for shared understanding to emerge. Meanwhile, bigger and more deeply entangled problems are always awaiting our collective attention.
In both personal and professional spaces, it’s tempting to treat “ambiguity” as a comfortable holding pattern. We’ve all been there: postponing decisions under the guise of gathering more data, maintaining the status quo because change feels risky, or citing unclear circumstances to avoid tough conversations. The reasons are as varied as human nature itself. But acknowledging these patterns—both in ourselves and in our organizations—opens the door to more authentic and effective collaboration.
Of course, true ambiguity exists in many contexts—innovation, strategy, and the beautiful complexity of human dynamics. Here, I only mean to encourage reflection on the places where ambiguity need not reside so we can move forward together. When we challenge our assumptions about what is truly ambiguous, we free up energy and resources for the genuinely complex challenges that await us.
On
Authenticity
We are multifaceted beings, navigating life between our many selves. Truly knowing what we know, with real conviction, is a challenge when different parts of us emerge in different spaces. Psychology, or perhaps philosophy, has named these parts: the true self, the shadow self, the not-self.
Astrology playfully describes our sun, moon, and rising signs as mirrors of our personality, soul, and how the world sees us. More significantly, we dissect and divide ourselves to fit relationships of all kinds and to perform on stages of all sizes—becoming, in the process, both all and none of these identities.
Yet authenticity—and genuinely authentic relationships—seem like relics of the past. So often, we hide behind façades, grasping at versions of ourselves that no longer exist. In truth, we are being called to recreate ourselves, to rediscover what it means to see ourselves as we truly are, so that we can, in turn, truly see each other.
It’s time to let go of the smiles that, however beguiling, reflect the permanence of an inauthentic reality. The veil has lifted, and the veneers have long wilted.
To rebuild authentic relationships, we must be willing to be honest—to say what needs to be said with respect, courtesy, and the audacity to center truth. And perhaps, just perhaps, we can laugh at ourselves and with each other along the way.
On
Listening
My perspective on the art of listening centers on hearing both what is said and what goes unsaid between speaker and listener. Yet in many interactions, listening is shaped not just by individual intention but by cultural norms. Culturally, however, we often place too much responsibility on the listener alone to facilitate understanding. When a speaker continues for long durations without pausing for the listener to respond or ask clarifying questions, we can conclude that the speaker is, in fact, a poor listener.
Whether in personal or professional relationships, conversations should be just that—conversations. They are a give and take, a back and forth. Certainly, there are times when the roles of speaker and listener have clearer boundaries, and respect for these roles is important. But interrupting out of mere impatience or the desire to hear oneself speak isn’t what I’m advocating. Rather, we should normalize being human: to be human is to be in dialogue. Dialogues, after all, are not monologues.
There need not be hierarchy between speaker and listener—only curiosity, courtesy, and respect. Knowing when to pause and when to interject takes practice from both speaker and listener. From that foundation, understanding emerges, however long the journey may be.