Difference Makers Podcast

Stop Surviving the Day

It has been a while. Some of you moved over to my new field dispatches; many of you stayed here. That is perfectly fine. I am writing today because the landscape has not changed, and the exhaustion has only deepened.The marketplace machine demands constant reaction. It normalises exhaustion. It tells you that if you are not instantly fixing, defending, or producing, you are falling behind.You cannot fix the system. But you can change your operating system.I have spent the last few months building something exclusively for corporate refugees. It is called The Insiders Challenge.This is not a traditional journal. It is a structured daily practice for your inner life.Built on the PCPCR engine, this digital daily ledger is designed to help you widen the gap between external pressure and your internal response. Each session takes less than five minutes to start and builds to around twenty minutes over six weeks.Over a 42 day programme, you will learn to:* Pause. Drop your weapons and step out of the survival cycle.* Cause. Stop acting like a victim and own your internal state.* Pray. Invite a non anxious presence into the chaos.* Choose. Make one deliberate decision even when the path is unclear.* Review. Turn your daily actions into a mirror for formation.Every morning you will receive The Insiders Daily. It is a sharp, 90 second video and audio briefing to calibrate your focus before you open your inbox.We need beta testers.We are preparing the protocol for deployment. I am looking for a small group of active marketplace leaders to run the beta test.I need operatives who are exhausted by the relentless grind and genuinely ready to put the shovel in the ground. You will test the daily interface, run the engine, and help shape the final build.The product is free. Your honest feedback is the price of entry.If that sounds like you…Take back your choice.John Michael This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit differencemakers.substack.com

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I'm Firing Myself

Jan 2000:03:04Tap to summarize

The CrashI realised recently that I have become a bottleneck.In the “Expert Industry,” this is usually considered a success metric. The more people waiting in line to speak to you, the higher your status. The more emails in your inbox asking “What should I do?”, the more “essential” you feel.But in the Kingdom, that is not success. That is a structural failure.The DiagnosisIn Exodus 18, Moses sat from morning until evening, answering every question and settling every dispute for the people. He thought he was leading.His father-in-law, Jethro, saw the queue and gave him a different diagnosis: “The thing you are doing is not good. You will surely wear out... for the task is too heavy for you; you cannot do it alone.”The industry wants you to be a Parasite - dependent on the leader for your daily power. The rebel wants you to be an Orphan - disconnected and running on batteries.But the Father wants you to be an Heir. An Heir doesn’t call the CEO every time a lightbulb needs changing. An Heir knows where the fuse box is.The Protocol If I answer every question you have, I am not helping you. I am atrophying your ability to hear the Signal for yourself.So, I am firing myself as your Guru. I am rehiring myself as your Architect.My job is not to hold the keys. My job is to print copies. My job is not to be the High Voltage line that you plug into. My job is to build Transformers—tools and frameworks that allow you to step down the High Voltage of Kingdom Truth into usable local power for your home, without me in the room.The Drop Today, I am releasing Field Guide [005]: The Transformer Protocol. It is a manual on how to stop waiting for permission to be powerful. It includes the “Jethro Principle” - a system for accessing wisdom without the wait time.For My Lovely Substack Readers: This is a tactical pivot. The signal is moving. I am consolidating my comms channels to focus on building these tools. As you are reading this on Substack and want to ensure you get the Field Guides and the access to the A.R.G. (Apprentice’s Reliable Guide) logic, you need to be on the primary frequency.This is the last broadcast on this channel for a while. If you want the blueprints, move here: The Mission Stop trying to plug into the Man. Plug into the Method. The power is in the house. You just need to know how to turn it on.KFA out. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit differencemakers.substack.com

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Seven Steps to One Click

May 12, 202500:16:03Tap to summarize

Discover how a struggling manager transformed apathy into innovation by removing invisible barriers. A leadership story about making good choices the easy ones.https://differencemakers.substack.com/p/seven-steps-to-one-clickHave you ever watched your best ideas drift into silence, while frustration seeps in like a thick fog? In the fast-paced world of Pulse Technologies, Nathan Reid struggles to engage his team in a critical innovation initiative, facing overwhelming resistance. How can he transform apathy into enthusiasm and create a culture of collaboration? Perhaps you too have felt the sting of unrecognised potential and wondered how to bring your vision to life. Join Nathan as he uncovers the hidden power of choice architecture, learning to reshape an environment where innovation can flourish and each voice matters.I stared at the dashboard, clicking the refresh button for the tenth time that morning. The counter still showed just three submissions! Three out of two hundred employees!! Two weeks in, and this was all I had to show for my innovation initiative."Come on," I muttered, scrolling through the seven-step application process I'd designed. The form was comprehensive, logical, covering everything from initial concept to resource requirements and implementation timelines. It was thorough. It was professional. It was sitting completely unused.Six weeks earlier, Olivia had called me into her office, her expression serious but excited. "Nathan, I'm giving you something important," she'd said, leaning forward across her immaculate desk. "We need fresh thinking that cuts across departments. You're perfect for this."Perfect. The word now mocked me as I closed my laptop, rubbing my tired eyes. In three days, I'd be sitting across from her again, trying to explain these dismal results. I'd been so certain that good ideas would naturally fight their way through my thorough process, that quality would rise to the top if the structure was solid enough.I slumped back in my chair as another polite rejection pinged into my inbox."Thanks Nathan, but I'm swamped this week. Perhaps next month?" wrote Rajiv from Product Development."Process seems a bit involved. Will try to look at it when things calm down," came from Emma in Marketing."Sorry mate, got three deadlines this week," said Dan's message.With each response, my stomach tightened. I'd spent the morning crafting detailed explanations, complete with highlighted sections of the form and bullet-pointed instructions. I'd even created an FAQ document that addressed every possible concern.Nothing helped. The counter remained stubbornly at five submissions."Don't they understand how important this is?" I muttered, drafting yet another email. This time, I emphasized Olivia's personal interest and added "CEO-ENDORSED INITIATIVE" to the subject line. It felt desperate, but I was desperate.By Wednesday afternoon, watching the submission counter inch up to just seven entries, I found myself wondering if the team simply didn't care about innovation. After all, I'd given them every possible resource and explanation. The process was clear. The importance was obvious.Now I had less than 48 hours to figure out how to explain these numbers to Olivia.I escaped to my car during lunch, desperate for some space to think. The ignition stayed off as I slumped in my seat, pulling out my phone to distract myself. Without much thought, I tapped on my podcast app, selecting the latest episode of "Difference Makers" that I'd been saving."In this episode, we're discussing the Hidden Power of Choice Architecture." The host's confident voice filled the car. "Choice architecture isn't about forcing the 'right' choice, but making beneficial choices the easiest ones to make. Unnecessary friction naturally repels people, not from laziness, but because humans conserve mental energy."I sat up straighter, something in those words striking a chord."Leaders often design systems logical to them that create invisible barriers for others," the host continued. "Every form field, every approval is a point where you might lose someone."My hand froze midway to the volume control. Oh good grief.The seven-step process. The multiple approvals. The mandatory presentations.I wasn't facilitating innovation, I was smothering it under layers of friction.My phone buzzed with a calendar alert: "Meeting with Olivia - Innovation Update - 30 minutes."My stomach dropped as everything suddenly became horribly clear.I couldn't sleep that night. My meeting with Olivia had been mercifully rescheduled for the next day, giving me one last chance to understand what had gone so catastrophically wrong with my innovation initiative.At midnight, I sat hunched over my laptop at the kitchen table, the blue light harsh against the darkness. "Choice architecture examples" I typed, then "reducing friction in processes" and "barriers to participation."Article after article confirmed what the podcast had triggered. I scribbled frantically in my Moleskine:* Reduce steps to absolute minimum necessary* Make participation the default option, not an opt-in* Create visible early wins that people can see* Show progress publicly to build momentum* Lower barriers to entry dramaticallyThe principles felt simultaneously revolutionary and embarrassingly obvious. I'd taken a behavioural economics module at university years ago—nudge theory, the path of least resistance—all concepts I'd forgotten when designing this process.A verse surfaced from somewhere deep in my memory: "Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment." Romans 12:3.At 2 AM, it hit me fully: I hadn't created an innovation initiative. I'd built an innovation obstacle course, designed for someone exactly like myself.Morning light streamed through my office window as I hunched over my laptop, seeing my innovation portal through new eyes. What had felt logical yesterday now resembled a bureaucratic nightmare. Seven pages of required fields. Three committee approvals. Detailed implementation plans needed before an idea could even be considered.I clicked through each screen, my stomach sinking further with every mandatory field marked with a red asterisk. My throat tightened at the realisation of what I'd done."Ensure quality." That's what I'd told myself. But what message was I actually sending? "Your ideas probably aren't good enough to warrant this effort."I ran my hand through my hair, the truth staring me in the face. I'd created a system that made perfect sense to me—detail-oriented, process-driven Nathan—without considering how utterly overwhelming it would feel to anyone else.This wasn't selecting for good ideas. It was selecting for stubbornness. Only those persistent enough to battle through my fortress of forms would make it through, regardless of their idea's merit.I'd designed the exact opposite of what I'd intended. Perfect, methodical, and completely wrong.I cleared my calendar for the entire day. Meetings were cancelled or delegated. I needed total focus. This wasn't just about tweaking my approach—this required radical overhaul.I grabbed a yellow sticky note and scrawled my new mantra: "Make the right choice the easy choice." Slapping it on my monitor, I dove in.The old portal was nuked by 10 AM. In its place emerged something barely recognisable: a digital suggestion box accessible from any company device. The elaborate seven-step form? Gone. Replaced with a single question: "What's your idea to improve Pulse Technologies?" Anonymous submissions now allowed. A department leaderboard to spark friendly competition.Most radically, I flipped the entire participation model. Everyone was now automatically enrolled to submit at least one idea per quarter. They'd have to actively opt out if they didn't want to participate.As midnight approached, I finally hit "deploy" on the new system. It would go live first thing tomorrow.Slumping back in my chair, doubt crept in like a cold draft. Had I overcorrected? Would Olivia see this dramatic shift as an admission of incompetence rather than adaptability? Was it too late to salvage not just the initiative, but possibly my role at the company?I hit send on the company-wide email and watched it disappear into the digital ether, my heart hammering against my ribs. The bright red "Share Your Idea" button stared back at me from my own inbox, both accusation and opportunity.What had I done? Completely demolished my original system without Olivia's approval. Publicly admitted failure to the entire company. Promised results I couldn't guarantee.My tablet felt slippery in my sweaty palms as I walked the long corridor to Olivia's office. Each step brought a fresh wave of doubt. She'd entrusted me with this initiative because she thought I was methodical, thorough. Now I was about to tell her I'd binged on behavioural economics research at midnight and rebuilt everything from scratch.The notification sound on my tablet pinged. Then again. And again. My screen lit up with alerts. Idea submissions already trickling in. Three. Five. Eight. By the time I reached Olivia's door, the counter showed seventeen new ideas.I took a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. This wasn't just about saving the initiative anymore. It was about the leader I wanted to become—someone who could admit mistakes, adapt quickly, and create environments where others could succeed.I knocked on her door."You completely redesigned the syste...

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The Eyes of Discernment

Apr 21, 202500:16:10Tap to summarize

The Ladder ClimberI slipped through the glass doors of InnovateX, my leather-bound notebook pressed against my chest like armor. The office hummed with nervous energy—leadership promotions were coming, and everyone knew it."Morning, Lily," called Marco from his desk as I passed.I managed a smile, though my thoughts were elsewhere. In my notebook, I'd documented a pattern that grew more concerning by the day. Rex Thompson's name featured prominently, underlined three times on yesterday's page.The morning briefing was already underway when I slid into my usual seat. Rex stood at the front, his silver-streaked hair perfectly coiffed, gesturing toward slides on the digital screen."…and that's why I've developed this approach to targeting our millennial demographic," he announced, straightening his designer tie.My jaw clenched. That strategy had been Amira's brainchild. I'd watched her work late for weeks refining it, only to have her miss today's meeting for a client emergency.Rex caught my gaze and his smile never faltered, though something cold flickered in his eyes. He knew I knew. And clearly, he didn't care.I closed my office door as Sam and three other team members gathered around my small conference table. The energy in the room felt heavy, weighted with unspoken frustration."I've had enough," Sam said, pushing a strand of colourful hair behind their ear. "Look at this."Sam slid their tablet toward me, open to an email thread. There it was in black and white—Rex had forwarded Sam's detailed market analysis to senior leadership with a new header: "Thompson Market Strategy Overview.""He didn't even change the wording," Javier muttered, adjusting his glasses. "Just slapped his name on it."I scrolled through the document, my stomach tightening. The analysis had taken Sam weeks to complete—late nights and meticulous research all claimed in a single email."What are we supposed to do?" Elena asked. "His numbers look amazing to leadership because he's stealing all our work."I glanced at their expectant faces, then back to the evidence on the screen. The right thing to do seemed clear, but Rex's relationship with the executive team was bulletproof. His performance metrics consistently topped the department charts—now I understood why."I don't know yet," I admitted. "But this isn't right."That evening, I collapsed onto my sofa, the weight of the day still pressing on my shoulders. I kicked off my shoes and reached for my phone, opening the Difference Makers podcast, my guilty pleasure and secret mentor during these corporate battles.John's warm, resonant voice filled my living room as I closed my eyes."Today we're discussing how our brains assess others in the workplace," he began. "Here's something fascinating: competence tells you what someone can do; character reveals who they truly are."I sat up straighter, suddenly alert."When we evaluate someone's skills or achievements," John continued, "different neural pathways activate than when we're assessing their integrity or trustworthiness. Research shows the amygdala, our brain's emotional processing centre, activates differently when we assess character versus competence."I thought of Rex's impeccable presentations and undeniable results… and the stolen work that created them."Our brains inherently recognise that what someone can accomplish matters far less than who they are while accomplishing it," John said. "This isn't just intuition—it's hardwired into our neurobiology."I reached for my notebook, scribbling frantically as the words illuminated the discomfort I'd been feeling.I woke the next morning with those words still echoing in my mind. While making coffee, I opened my leather-bound notebook to a fresh page and carefully drew a line down the middle, creating two distinct columns."Evidence" I wrote at the top of the left column. "Interpretation" I labeled the right."Focus on what you see with your eyes, and hear with your ears, not what you feel," I reminded myself, recalling the guidance about separating actions from judgments. The podcast had explained how our brains often make character assessments too quickly, blurring the line between observed behavior and emotional response.Under "Evidence," I wrote my first entry: "Rex presented Amira's millennial strategy as his own (March 15 meeting)." In the second column: "Pattern of claiming others' work, not isolated incident."I sipped my coffee, feeling clearer. This wasn't about disliking Rex or his ambition—it was about documenting a pattern of behaviours that undermined the team. By keeping my observations objective and systematic, I could address the problem rather than the person."Patterns reveal character," John had said. And patterns were exactly what I intended to document.I spent the next week in observation mode, my notebook becoming a detailed record of Rex's interactions. On Tuesday, I witnessed him captivate the Meridian account team with charm and insights that had them nodding appreciatively."Brilliant presentation, Rex," their CEO had said, shaking his hand.Twenty minutes later, I watched that same Rex snap at Emma from design when she asked a clarifying question about timeline expectations."If you can't keep up, perhaps we need someone who can," he'd muttered, just loud enough for those nearby to hear.During lunch on Thursday, Gareth from accounting confirmed what I suspected."Everyone sees it," he whispered, glancing around the canteen. "But who's going to say anything? Man's practically bulletproof with the executive team."Each evening, I added to my evidence column: "Interrupted Priya three times in strategy meeting." "Took credit for Diego's customer retention solution." "Publicly praised Steven (senior team member) while ignoring identical suggestion from Amira (junior) made earlier."No accusations. No judgments. Just behaviours, dates, and witnesses. The patterns emerging more clearly with each entry.I stood at the front of the boardroom, my presentation slides reflecting off the polished table. My heart thumped steadily as I walked the executive team through our quarterly forecast. The evidence I'd been gathering about Rex sat heavy in my mind, but today wasn't about that, it was about the Henderson project data."As you can see from these customer engagement metrics—""I'm sorry to interrupt, Lily," Rex's voice sliced through mine, "but I have concerns about your methodology."The room stilled. My fingers tightened around my clicker."Your sample size is inadequate for the conclusions you're drawing," he continued, leaning forward with practiced concern. "The executive team needs reliable data for decision-making.""Actually," I replied, keeping my voice level, "the sample represents twenty-three percent of our user base, which exceeds industry standards for…""Perhaps if you had my experience," Rex cut in, his smile not reaching his eyes, "you'd understand why your approach won't work."The silence that followed was deafening. I caught Director Chen's slight frown, saw Marketing VP Davis glance uncomfortably at his notes.My carefully constructed analysis crumbled inside me. The presentation continued somehow, my voice hollow in my ears. But walking back to my office, doubt crashed over me in waves. Maybe I wasn't qualified to challenge someone like Rex after all.Renewed PerspectiveThat evening, I crawled into bed exhausted, my confidence in tatters. Almost by reflex, I reached for my phone and tapped the Difference Makers icon. John's voice filled my darkened room, somehow knowing exactly what I needed."Today we're discussing resilience in assessment," he began. "When gathering evidence, we must guard against confirmation bias, our tendency to only notice information that supports our existing beliefs."I sat up straighter, suddenly alert."Remember," John continued, his voice warm but firm, "we evaluate behaviour, not personhood. The distinction matters because it keeps us objective and fair, even when dealing with difficult colleagues."My notebook lay open beside me. Had I been fair to Rex? Was I gathering evidence objectively, or only noticing what confirmed my suspicions?An ancient proverb surfaced in my mind: "Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it."I realised then that defending our team's culture required more than my personal observations. I needed substantial evidence from diverse sources, and I needed to approach this with both courage and careful discernment.Strategic ApproachI spent the weekend transforming my scattered notes into something structured. Rather than a complaint about Rex, this would be a data-driven analysis of team dynamics."Observable patterns," I muttered, creating a new document. "Not character judgments."I included timestamps, direct quotes, and specific instances where ideas had been redirected. The effect became startlingly clear when visualised on a graph – innovation metrics had dropped 27% in areas where Rex took control, despite outputs increasing.Anonymous quotes from team members revealed the pattern:"I've stopped sharing ideas in meetings.""Why bother when someone else will take credit?"I prepared two versions – one with Rex's name, one without. The patterns stood regardless of who was named.For three nights, I practiced in front of my bathroom mirror, focusing on maintaining a calm, analytical tone."This isn't personal," I reminded myself. "It's about protecting our creative culture."By Thursday morning, my presentation was ready – twelve slides of undeniable evidence s...

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Ash’s Struggle for His Own Heart

Apr 10, 202500:16:47Tap to summarize

Ash’s Struggle for His Own HeartI stood at the crossroads of my career, my heart pounding with both dread and determination, as I realised the only way forward was to confront an age-old battle within myself. My emotions had always been my greatest strength and my deepest weakness. They fuelled my passion but too often erupted like a volcano, leaving scorched relationships and missed opportunities in their wake. Today would be different. Today I had to master the internal war.I stared at the evaluation report lying on my desk, already dreading Jonathan's review fortnight from now. "Exceptional potential, yet..." Those three cursing words had haunted my career path for what felt like an eternity. My mentor's wisdom echoed: "Controlling your emotions isn't simply suppressing them, Ash. It's about awareness. About recognising the battle before the first shot is fired."The team meeting would start in ten minutes. Ordinarily, I'd charge in with my twelve-point strategy, ready to dismiss any challenge. But today, I paused. Breathed. Located the tension already building in my chest.The Battle Within"Just keep it together today," I muttered to the worn-out face in the bathroom mirror. At thirty-four, I'd ascended halfway up the corporate ladder through pure resolve, only to repeatedly hack away the rungs beneath me with my explosive temper. Six years at Meridian Tech, three promotions, and innumerable moments of brilliance – all eclipsed by emotional eruptions that left victims scattered in their aftermath.The shower couldn't wash away the knot in my stomach. Two weeks remained before my performance review with Mr. Greene would determine everything. My trembling hands struggled with my tie as I rehearsed responses to inevitable criticisms. The coffee burnt my tongue, but I barely noticed, mentally cataloguing projects I'd championed and targets I'd hit. And, like my LinkedIn profile, claiming credit for a few choice morsels.Maya glanced up from her desk as I entered the office, then immediately returned to her computer screen. That silent dismissal said everything. Leon offered a cautious "Morning," before quickly retreating to the safety of his cubicle. The atmosphere shifted palpably – conversations hushed, postures stiffened. Three months since my last outburst when Maya questioned my strategy, and the wounds still festered.I placed my briefcase on my desk, noticing my hands were shaking. Mr. Greene's office door remained closed, but I could feel his presence like an approaching storm. Nine years of management experience, and I still felt like an imposter awaiting exposure.The morning commute used to be dead time, just me and my thoughts spinning in ever-decreasing circles. Today, I had sought distraction in "The Insiders" podcast."Emotional awareness isn't mystical," the host explained, "it's recognising that internal struggle before it manifests externally. Think of it as an early warning system."My fingers tightened around the steering wheel."We all have competing voices inside," the guest continued, "the reactive self that wants immediate satisfaction versus the thoughtful self that considers consequences. The key is recognising which voice is speaking and why."I nearly missed my exit, absorbed in their words about neural pathways and how recognising patterns was the first step toward changing them."It's that ancient battle," they concluded. "Knowing what's right but feeling pulled elsewhere."Sitting in the car park, engine off, I couldn't move. The words resonated with something half-remembered from church - Paul's lament in Romans. "I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do."That was it exactly. I knew how to lead. I understood the importance of listening, of measured responses, of creating psychological safety. Yet in crucial moments, something else took control - a reactive, defensive force that undermined everything I believed in."Do you understand what's happening in these moments, Ash?" Ms. Powell leaned forward, her gaze penetrating yet kind. The HR advisor had invited me to her office after hearing about my performance review tomorrow."I know I react too strongly," I admitted, staring at my hands."It's deeper than that. Jung called it the 'shadow self'—the part of us we don't want to acknowledge. When you feel that surge of emotion, there's a battle happening between what you desire in that moment and what professional behaviour demands."She pulled a leather-bound journal from her drawer and slid it across the desk."This is for you. Each day, I want you to document three things: what triggered you, what you wanted to do, and what you actually did. The gap between those last two—that's where growth happens."I ran my fingers over the embossed cover, remembering Ms. Powell's words from our last session about neuroplasticity and retraining emotional responses."This will help you recognise the battle before it begins," she added.The journal triggered a memory from last month—Maya questioning my project timeline in front of the team. I'd wanted to defend myself, to maintain control, to be seen as competent. Instead, I'd snapped, "If you'd been paying attention instead of taking extended lunch breaks, you'd understand the timeline!"The room had fallen silent. Maya's face had flushed red, her eyes glistening. In that moment, I'd won the argument but lost something far more valuable.The journal sat open on my desk, with three columns I'd labelled "Trigger," "Desired Reaction," and "Actual Response." Four days of entries revealed uncomfortable patterns—whenever my competence was questioned, I lashed out. When I felt overlooked, I interrupted. When deadlines tightened, my temper shortened. The awareness was uncomfortable but oddly freeing."You look different today," Leon observed, leaning against my office doorframe. "Less... tense.""Working on some things," I replied, gesturing to the journal. "How's the Donovan project coming along?""Actually, that's why I'm here. The timeline seems a bit aggressive."My chest tightened—the familiar flash of defensiveness. I took a breath, recognising the battle. I swallowed the rising tension. "Tell me your concerns."We discussed the timeline calmly for fifteen minutes. No eruptions, no cutting remarks. When Leon left, I felt a quiet triumph.That afternoon, Maya stormed into my office, clutching printouts. "The Wilson proposal is late," she said, voice tight. "I needed your sign-off yesterday.""It can't be late," I said, scanning my calendar. "The deadline's next week.""No, it was moved up. I emailed you twice about it."Heat rushed to my face. That same storm gathered inside me, but this time I saw it forming. "That's impossible, I would have—""Well, you didn't," she interrupted. "And now we might lose the account.""If you'd properly flagged the importance instead of burying it in twenty other emails—" My voice escalated before I could catch it."There it is," Maya snapped, eyes flashing. "Always someone else's fault." She turned and walked out, leaving my door open for everyone to hear.I slumped in my chair, the journal mocking me from my desk. Recognition wasn't enough. The battle was constant, and I'd just lost another skirmish.I trudged back to Ms. Powell's office the next morning, feeling like a fraud. The journal clutched in my hand felt heavier than before, weighed down by yesterday's failure."I blew it," I admitted, sinking into the chair across from her. "One challenging conversation with Maya and I was right back where I started."Ms. Powell's expression remained calm, almost expectant. "Did you think decades of emotional patterns would vanish after four days of journaling?""No, but—""Ash, recognition is only the beginning. You're noticing the battle now, which is progress. But awareness without community rarely leads to transformation."Her words caught me off guard. "Community?""The people around you need to be part of your journey. Have you told Maya and Leon what you're working on?"I hadn't. The thought of admitting my struggles felt like exposing a weakness."Got a minute?" I asked, hovering at Maya's desk later that day.She glanced up, wariness evident in her expression. "What is it?""I want to apologise for yesterday. And... for a lot of days before that." I placed my journal on her desk. "I'm working on my emotional regulation. It's been a problem for a long time, and I'm trying to change."Maya's expression softened slightly. "What's this?""My battle map. Ms. Powell is helping me recognize when I'm about to react poorly." I swallowed my pride. "I need your patience. And maybe your help."Leon appeared beside us. "Help with what?""Ash is trying to grow up," Maya said, but without the usual edge."About time," Leon smiled. "What can we do?"Before the client call that afternoon, I sat at my desk with my eyes closed. Ms. Powell had suggested visualising successful interactions—seeing myself responding calmly to challenges, breathing through tension."Picture yourself navigating the conversation with awareness," she'd advised. "Your brain can't distinguish between vivid imagination and real experience. You're literally creating new neural pathways."I envisioned myself listening intently, acknowledging concerns without defensiveness, leading with curiosity rather than certainty. The mental rehearsal felt strange but grounding.When my phone rang, I opened my eyes and picked up with a steadiness I hadn't felt before. The battle wasn't over, but for the first time, I wasn't fighting al...

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Who’s your Caddie? A Difference Makers Short Story

Mar 13, 202500:26:01Tap to summarize

Overwhelmed and Out of BoundsI stared at the mountain of paperwork threatening to avalanche across my desk. Project plans with impossible deadlines, status updates demanding responses, and no fewer than 217 unread emails pulsed accusingly from my screen. My third coffee of the morning sat cold beside my keyboard.differencemakers.substack.com"How am I supposed to keep track of all this?" I muttered, dragging my hand through my hair.The expectations were crushing. Six months into my new management role, and I still felt like an impostor. Everyone looked to me for answers I didn't have, solutions I couldn't see.My phone buzzed, skittering across a pile of budget forecasts. Another problem to solve, no doubt. I grabbed it with a sigh."Congratulations, Ed! You've been selected for our exclusive Top Talent programme. First session: Golf with Leadership Coach John Michael, Tuesday 9 AM. Clubs provided. Please confirm attendance."I blinked at the screen. Golf? I'd never held a golf club in my life. And how was whacking a little white ball around a manicured lawn supposed to help me manage this chaos?"This has to be a mistake," I said to no one in particular.I'd been hoping for advanced project management training or strategic decision-making workshops—something concrete to tackle the overwhelming responsibilities crowding my days. Not... golf.My phone buzzed again with a personal message from my director: "Great news about the Top Talent programme, Ed! John Michael is brilliant—his waiting list is usually months long. Lucky you!"I slumped back in my chair. Apparently, this wasn't a mistake.The email notification count ticked up to 218. The project timeline on my desk showed three simultaneous deadlines approaching. My team would be waiting for direction in our morning huddle in fifteen minutes.And instead of equipping me with actual management tools, the company wanted me to play golf."Brilliant," I sighed, typing a confirmation message with one hand while reaching for my cold coffee with the other. "Just brilliant."From Spreadsheet to FairwayI arrived at the golf course wearing the closest thing I owned to appropriate attire: khaki trousers and a blue polo shirt I'd panic-bought the night before. The clubhouse loomed ahead, all polished wood and privilege—a world away from my cluttered desk and overflowing inbox."You must be Ed!" A man with striking white hair and an infectious energy approached, hand extended. "John Michael. Delighted to meet our newest Top Talent."I shook his hand, forcing a smile. "That's me. Though I should warn you, I've never actually played golf before.""Perfect!" John's eyes twinkled with unmistakable delight. "Absolute beginners make the best students. No bad habits to unlearn."After selecting clubs that apparently suited my height and introducing me to terminology that sounded like a foreign language, we headed to the first tee. A young man joined us, carrying both our sets of clubs."Ed, this is Amir, our caddie today. One of the best on the course."Amir nodded respectfully. "Morning, sir."I watched in awe as John demonstrated a swing that sent his ball sailing gracefully down the fairway. When my turn came, my attempt was considerably less elegant. The ball skittered pathetically off to the right."Not to worry," John said, clapping me on the shoulder. "Now, as we walk, let me ask you something important. On an unfamiliar course, even professional golfers rely on caddies who know the terrain. In leadership, who's your caddie?"I frowned. "I don't follow.""Look at Amir here. He knows every contour of this course. Every hidden trap. The way the greens break. Without him, we'd be making decisions based solely on what we can see, which is limited."Amir stepped forward. "This hole has a hidden water hazard to the left, sir. You'll want to aim slightly right of centre."John nodded. "Specialists in your team need solutions, managers need answers, but leaders—true leaders—need to ask the right questions. Your job isn't to know everything. It's to know who to ask."I felt a weight lifting from my shoulders as his words sank in. All this time, I'd been killing myself trying to be the expert on everything."The best leaders," John continued, "are excellent at asking questions that unlock their team's expertise. They're not threatened by not knowing—they're liberated by it."The Power of PerspectiveI lined up for my second attempt, determined to do better. I gripped the club tightly, my knuckles white with tension. The weight of my company's "Top Talent" expectations felt heavier than the golf club in my sweaty hands."Here goes nothing," I muttered, swinging with all my might.The club head whooshed through the air, missed the ball completely, and buried itself in the turf. The momentum spun me around like a clumsy ballet dancer, and I stumbled forward, nearly falling flat on my face.Amir winced sympathetically. I felt heat rush to my cheeks, mortified by my performance.I expected John to launch into technical advice—adjust your grip, bend your knees, keep your eye on the ball—the kind of specific direction I desperately wanted. After all, wasn't that what coaches were supposed to do? Tell you exactly how to fix your problems?Instead, John simply asked, "What would your most successful colleague do in this situation?"I stared at him blankly. "What does that have to do with my terrible swing?""Humour me," he said with that mischievous twinkle in his eye.I sighed but played along. "Well, there's Sanjay in Product Development. He's... methodical. Always breaks problems down before tackling them."As I spoke, I found myself naturally shifting my stance, loosening my death grip on the club. In my mind's eye, I could see Sanjay's calm, measured approach to challenges."He wouldn't rush it," I continued, relaxing my shoulders. "He'd probably analyze the mechanics first, take a practice swing or two."Without thinking, I took a smooth practice swing, feeling the weight of the club."And then?" John prompted."He'd focus on making clean contact rather than trying to hit it perfectly the first time."I addressed the ball again, this time with Sanjay's methodical mindset. I swung—not perfectly, but the club connected with a satisfying thwack. The ball arced upward and flew a decent distance down the fairway."Well done!" John exclaimed. "Amazing what a change in perspective can do, isn't it?"A New ViewAfter my surprisingly successful golf swing, we continued walking toward my ball. John carried himself with the relaxed confidence of someone completely at home on the course."You did something powerful just now, Ed," he said, his white hair catching the morning sun. "You shifted your perspective. Let's explore that further."When we reached a wide section of the fairway, John suddenly stopped. He took four tees from his pocket and placed them in the grass, creating a rough square about two meters across."Management is essentially about relationships and communication," he explained. "When we get stuck, it's rarely about the facts—it's about perspective."John pointed to the first tee. "Position 1 is you." He moved to the second. "Position 2 is the other person." He stepped to the third. "Position 3 is a trusted third party." Finally, he indicated the fourth. "And Position 4 is the objective observer—the helicopter view of the entire situation."I nodded politely, wondering what this had to do with my overwhelming workload."Let me show you," John said, beckoning to Amir. "Would you mind helping us with a quick demonstration?"Amir set down our clubs and joined us. John asked him about a recent conflict he'd experienced at work. Amir mentioned a disagreement with another caddie about client assignments."Stand at Position 1 and tell us how you see the situation," John instructed.Amir stood at the first tee, describing how unfair it felt that the other caddie kept getting the high-tipping members."Now move to Position 2," John said. "Become the other caddie. How does the world look from there?"Amir physically stepped to the second marker. I watched in fascination as his posture subtly changed. His voice took on a different cadence as he spoke from his colleague's perspective."I've been here longer... I know these members better... I've put in my time...""Position 3," John directed. "You're now the golf director who manages you both."Amir moved again, his expression shifting to one of thoughtful consideration. "I see two valuable team members with different strengths..."When Amir reached Position 4—the objective observer—his face suddenly lit up with realization."The whole scheduling system needs restructuring," he said, his eyes wide. "Neither of us is wrong, but we're trapped in an outdated process."I felt my jaw slacken slightly. The transformation was remarkable—a complete breakthrough in under five minutes, simply by physically changing positions.Unmasking Intent"Your turn, Ed," John said, pointing to the four tees still arranged in the grass. "What's a current leadership challenge you're facing?"I hesitated, my mind racing through the myriad problems on my plate. One situation immediately rose to the surface—the one that kept me awake at night."There's this developer on my team, Raj. Brilliant coder, probably the most technically talented person we have. But he's..." I searched for a diplomatic way to phrase it. "Difficult."John nodded encouragingly. ...

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The Fabric of Formation

Feb 13, 202500:18:01Tap to summarize

In a city that never sleeps, I found myself sleepwalking through my life. The notifications wouldn't stop buzzing. I swiped them away - another LinkedIn connection, three WhatsApp messages from the team project, and endless email alerts competing for attention. From my office window, Singapore's cacophony of traffic and building works created its familiar soundscape.I stared at my screen, the quarterly report numbers swimming before my eyes. Five years into this role and each day felt identical to the last. My Instagram feed showed university friends launching startups, travelling to exotic locations, living what seemed like fuller lives."Still at your desk, Kim?"My colleague Mark's voice cut through my thoughts. I nodded, managing a weak smile."Those reports won't write themselves." He chuckled, heading towards the lift.The clock showed 7:30 PM. Another late night. I rubbed my temples, trying to focus, when my phone lit up with a different kind of notification."Been thinking about our last conversation. Coffee next week? - Tom"Dr. Tom Harris. My old university mentor. Our paths had crossed at a leadership seminar during my final year. His words from our last meeting echoed: "Knowledge without application is like having a library in a locked room."I picked up my phone, memories flooding back of our discussions about purpose and potential. Back then, everything had seemed possible. Now, buried under deadlines and expectations, those conversations felt like relics from another life.My thumb hovered over the reply button. Tom had this way of asking questions that made you question everything - your choices, your patterns, your direction. Part of me craved that clarity again. Another part feared what those questions might reveal about where I'd ended up.The office had grown quiet, most colleagues long gone. In the reflection of my darkened monitor, I barely recognised myself. When had I stopped growing and started simply surviving?I typed: "Coffee sounds good. Name the time and place."The café Tom chose sat nestled between a rare bookshop and an artisan bakery, overlooking the Marina Bay. As I pushed open the door, the aroma of fresh coffee and warm pastries wrapped around me like a familiar hug."Over here, Kim." Tom waved from a corner table, his silver-streaked hair catching the morning light. He stood to greet me, his kind eyes crinkling at the corners."You look exactly the same," I said, settling into the weathered leather armchair opposite him."The grey hair might disagree." He tapped his temple with a smile. "But you - something's different."I shifted in my seat. "Different how?""Like you're carrying the weight of unasked questions." He leaned forward. "Tell me, what shapes your days now?""Work, mostly. Reports, deadlines, meetings." I traced the rim of my coffee cup. "It's funny - I have more knowledge than ever, more qualifications, but...""But you feel less formed by it all?"I looked up, startled by his precision."You know," Tom continued, "our brains are remarkable things. Neuroplasticity means we're constantly being shaped - by our habits, relationships, surroundings, experiences, time. The HRSET influences, I call them. Every notification you check, every person you spend time with, every story you tell yourself about success - they're all leaving their mark.""Like water wearing away rock?""Exactly. But here's the fascinating part - we can direct that flow. Take Sarah, one of my students. Brilliant analyst, but felt stuck like you. She started small - changed her morning routine from checking emails to reading something meaningful. Within months, her whole outlook shifted."The steam from my coffee curled upward as I absorbed his words. "So it's not about learning more...""It's about being intentional with what forms you. Your brain doesn't distinguish between passive consumption and active choice - it's all formation. The question is: are you choosing what shapes you, or letting circumstance decide?" Tom leaned forward, his eyes bright with purpose. "Recent studies show our brains physically change based on what we focus on - they call it neuroplasticity. The ancient wisdom about guarding your heart and mind? Science is catching up to what scripture knew all along. When you choose to direct your attention mindfully, you're literally rewiring your neural pathways. That's the beauty of it - you have far more power to shape yourself than you might think."The weekend after meeting Tom, I stood in my apartment, really seeing it for the first time in months. Takeaway containers littered the coffee table. Unread books competed with Amazon packages for space. My laptop, tablet, and phone formed a tech trinity on every surface, their notification lights blinking like desperate stars."Your environment shapes your neural pathways," Tom had explained. "Each visual cue triggers specific thought patterns."I picked up my phone - 47 notifications since morning. My thumb moved automatically to check them, but I caught myself. Instead, I opened the settings and began turning off notifications one by one. Each toggle felt like breaking a tiny chain.Moving to my desk, I faced the wall of sticky notes - reminders, to-dos, half-formed ideas. "Be transformed by the renewing of your mind," I murmured, remembering the quote Tom had shared. I started peeling them off, sorting urgent from unnecessary. Most fell into the latter category.The books came next. I created three piles: keep, donate, and storage. My collection of self-help books, barely touched beyond the first chapter, went straight to donations. The classics I'd been meaning to read for years moved to my bedside table.My laptop chimed - another email. I closed it firmly.Two hours later, I stood in the middle of my living room. Sunlight streamed through windows I'd forgotten existed behind the clutter. The space felt different - lighter somehow. On my cleared desk sat just my journal and a single book Tom had recommended.My phone stayed silent in the drawer where I'd placed it. The constant digital hum that had become my background noise had ceased. In its absence, I heard birds outside my window and the gentle tick of my wall clock.For the first time in months, my mind felt quieter too. The space around me no longer screamed for attention from every angle. Instead, it waited, ready for whatever I chose to fill it with.The Monday morning team meeting felt different. I sat straighter, observing the familiar dance of office politics with new eyes. Sarah from Marketing nodded enthusiastically at every word from our director, while James kept shooting anxious glances at his superiors, his tablet clutched like a shield."And finally," our director announced, "we need someone to lead the Wilson account project. Any volunteers?"The silence stretched. I watched my colleagues shift in their seats, some suddenly fascinated by their notebooks. In the past, I'd have done the same, but Tom's words echoed: "Your relationships shape your neural pathways as much as your habits do."My hand rose. "I'll take it.""Excellent, Kim. You'll have a team of three. Sort out the details and have a preliminary plan by Friday."Later, reviewing the team roster, I recognised a pattern. Jenny - always first to agree with management. Mike - brilliant but perpetually negative. And Rachel - new, still finding her footing.I'd been them all at different points - the yes-person, the cynic, the uncertain newcomer. Each role had left its mark, shaping my responses, my decisions, my growth.Instead of the usual email chain, I booked a small meeting room. "Let's start by sharing our thoughts openly," I suggested. "No right or wrong answers."Jenny's practiced smile faltered. Mike's eyebrows shot up. Rachel leaned forward, intrigued."I know we all have different working styles," I continued. "That's good. We need that diversity. But we also need honest communication."Mike snorted. "In this company?""Yes," I met his gaze. "Starting with this team."As we talked, the dynamics shifted. Jenny began offering genuine critiques. Mike's cynicism softened into constructive feedback. Rachel shared innovative ideas she'd been hesitant to voice.I watched them interact, remembering Tom's explanation about mirror neurons and emotional contagion - how we unconsciously mimic and absorb the behaviours of those around us. This wasn't just about completing a project; it was about creating an environment where everyone could grow.The next morning, my alarm buzzed at 6 AM. Instead of reaching for my phone, I sat up and opened my journal - a new habit Tom had suggested."Your brain's reward system is fascinating," he'd explained over our second coffee meeting. "Every time you check your phone first thing, you're reinforcing neural pathways that crave that dopamine hit. But you can rewire those pathways."I wrote the verse he'd shared: "Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and he will establish your plans." The words felt different in the quiet of dawn, before the day's chaos began.My old routine had been a blur of notifications, emails, and social media checks before I'd even brushed my teeth. Now, I sat cross-legged on my bed, writing three things I was grateful for, followed by my intentions for the day."Think of habits like water flowing downhill," Tom's voice echoed in my memory. "The more water flows, the deeper the channel becomes. But you can create new channels with consistent, intentional action."By day five, my hands still itched for my phone each morning. But the journal pages were filling up, and I noticed subtle changes. My thoughts felt clearer. I ...

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The Illusion of Command and Control

Nov 9, 202400:08:36Tap to summarize

Life at the helm feels less like steering a ship and more like juggling cats. On roller skates. In a storm. Everyone talks about leadership as a noble calling—about unlocking potential and inspiring greatness. Yet, when you oversee twenty-three souls, each with their own quirks and foibles, it feels like trying to grip water in your palms, only to watch it slip away. Chaos was my constant companion, a relentless hum that buzzed through Slack notifications, calendar pings, and endless emails. Outside my glass sanctum? Pure pandemonium.I once clung to the belief that leadership equaled control—that with a firm grip, all would stay intact. But recently, it felt as if my grasp was eroding. A whisper lingered in the back of my mind: You're losing them. It's your fault. And just as the storm within reached its peak, Douglas Dithers appeared, timidity personified.Percival’s Peculiar EnsembleDouglas, tentative as ever, hovered at my door, clutching the choice between blue and teal like a lifeline. “Mr Pennymore,” he ventured, uncertainty lacing his voice, “about the new interface colours—should we stick with blue, or does teal make us more, you know, trailblazing?”I gave him a tired smile. “Douglas, we agreed on blue.”“Yes, of course. But—what if teal speaks to innovation?” he persisted, eyes flicking with doubt.“Douglas. Blue,” I reaffirmed, sensing his internal debate was far from over.No sooner had Douglas departed than Tabitha Tinker burst in, an exuberant whirlwind. “Percy! I've sliced three milliseconds off our server response!” she proclaimed, eyes aglow with triumph.“Tabitha, we're still wrestling with user permissions. Please,” I implored.“Oh, those? I’ve a script for that!” she waved me off, already consumed by her milliseconds. “But the possibilities, Percy! They’re boundless!”No control. No order. Just spinning wheels. And then there was Shiloh Shrike, gliding in with her perpetual HR optimism.Subscribe to Difference Makers Now Cracks in the FacadeShiloh, with wellness brochures in hand and visions of ropes courses dancing in her head, was unshakable. “A team retreat, Percival! Fresh air and team-building—it’s just what we need!”“Shiloh, we’re behind. A ropes course?”“Exactly! Inner peace equals workflow harmony,” she beamed.Laughter or tears—either would have sufficed. My crew was adrift, and I, captain of this ship, was tangled in hues, milliseconds, and the prospect of rope-climbing enlightenment. That insidious whisper returned: You're not leading. You're floundering.The Neuroscience of Letting GoThat night, sleep eluded me. My mind replayed the day’s foibles, a cruel carousel. Something from a seminar flickered to life—a neuroscientist’s words on cognitive dissonance. The brain’s enigma: its craving for certainty, its dissonance when reality diverges. A trickster, convincing you of failure amid unpredictability.Yet, alongside this came a softer memory—my grandmother’s voice echoing old wisdom: Trust in the Lord with all your heart, Percy. Lean not on your understanding. Surrender to something beyond your grasp. To a higher power. To God. (Proverbs 3:5 TPT)Perhaps this wasn’t about clutching control but embracing trust. Trust in what? My team? Myself? A higher power? Every option seemed equally daunting.Trust Takes the HelmThe next day, as pressures mounted and the deadline loomed, the boiling point was reached. Chaos reigned—Douglas was caught on a tiny detail, Tabitha was adrift in new endeavours, and Shiloh was pushing mindfulness pauses.Panic rose, but clarity struck. “Enough!” I declared, my hand striking the table. “Our wayward paths won’t heal this.” My voice quavered but held steady. “We need focus. And trust. Douglas, choose and move. Tabitha, reign in the diversions. Shiloh, the project, not the ropes.”Silence ensued. Had I overstepped? But then Douglas nodded, resolve breaking through his hesitance. Tabitha closed her laptop, meeting my gaze with new understanding. Even Shiloh seemed relieved from her wellness crusade.The Science and Spirit of TrustFrom that moment, nothing miraculously resolved, yet everything subtly shifted. United, my team sailed towards crisis resolution. Trust, earned and given, bridged the gap. Not micromanagement—guidance. The seminar's echo remained: leadership isn't about certainty but navigating uncertainty with trust.And grandmother’s shared wisdom lingered: Trust in the Lord with all your heart. Relinquish the need for total understanding. Trust—a renewed anthem.Serenity After the StormUltimately, we delivered—tardiness acknowledged but not catastrophic. More than the project’s completion, the true lesson lay in the revelation: Leadership transcends control. It’s about recognising the unique strengths within your team and letting them flourish, unshackled by excessive oversight.That whisper of doubt? It persists, yet now I have the tools to quell it. I trust my team, I trust myself, and perhaps, just perhaps, I'm learning to trust a greater tapestry woven beyond my view.Thanks for reading Difference Makers! Than you for sharing this post with someone you know will benefit.Reflection Questions:* In what areas do you find yourself gripping control too tightly? Where might you begin to let go?* How can an understanding of cognitive dissonance aid your journey through self-doubt?* What role does trust play within your team, and how might you cultivate it further?* How might faith, or belief in something larger, transform your approach to leadership challenges? This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit differencemakers.substack.com

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The Purpose Paradox

Oct 30, 202400:11:34Tap to summarize

The Gnawing DoubtYou know that certain kind of itch? The sort that’s just beyond reach that no amount of scratching can fix? It starts somewhere in the back of your mind, just out of reach, and mutters, Is this really it? Is this like, everything? Is this my life? Like all of it?That was me, sitting at my ‘hot’ desk, staring at the flickering screen of my computer as if it held the answers to life’s existential mysteries. Spoiler alert!: it didn’t. Instead, it held emails—hundreds of them—each one a reminder of my slow, plodding march toward boring mediocrity.Around me, the office hummed with the kind of energy that looks furiously productive on the surface but feels like a hollow sham. People moved about, tapping away at keyboards, nodding at each other in passing, pretending we were all on some grand journey to corporate enlightenment. But me? I was just trying to figure out why everyone else seemed so fine with it all.Susan from HR floated by, her unnaturally bright smile slicing through my thoughts. “Morning! Big day ahead?” Her voice cut the air like a hyperactive child with a whistle.I nodded, offering her a half-hearted smile that probably looked more like a grimace. Big day? Sure. If you count staring at spreadsheets and pretending to care about the latest synergy initiative as big.The itch was growing, though. The one that said there was more to life than this. That maybe, just maybe, I was meant for something more. But what? And how?The Seminar That Changed Nothing (Yet)That’s when the email hit my inbox: Leading with Purpose Seminar – Last Chance!I clicked it, not out of interest, but out of sheer desperation for distraction. I expected the usual corporate fluff—phrases like maximising your potential or achieving your goals—but instead, the first sentence grabbed me by the throat: "Do you ever feel like something's missing? Like you're meant for more than this?"Yes. Yes, I do.As I skimmed the email, a name jumped out at me: Madeline Marchbanks. She was leading the seminar. The Madeline Marchbanks. She had one of those names that carried weight, like it belonged to someone who knew important things. Things about life. Things that maybe, just maybe, could explain why I was stuck in this endless loop of discontent.Without thinking—because if I thought about it too long, I’d talk myself out of it—I signed up. I wasn’t expecting a miracle, but I was desperate for something to shake me out of this rut. OK, I was expecting a miracle. I was, if I were being completely honest, hoping that someone else would magic me out of this rut.‘Neuroplasticity’ the word popped out of the email. Oh, Yeah, I remembered reading about it in some article. The brain’s ability to change and adapt. Maybe that’s what I needed—a little rewiring. Or maybe I was just hoping for an escape hatch from the monotony.Either way, I hit “Register.”Thanks for reading Difference Makers! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.The Battle of Brain and HeartThe seminar was… underwhelming, to say the least. Madeline Marchbanks? Oh, she was good—too good. She had this way of talking that made you feel like she was speaking directly to your soul, like she’d seen into the darkest parts of your mind and found a way to laugh at them. She talked about purpose, about leading with intent, and for a moment, I believed her.“People don’t become leaders by accident,” she said, her eyes locking onto mine in a way that made me feel seen. “You have to choose it. You have to believe it.”But now, back in my cubicle, staring once again at those unread emails, the gnawing doubt returned. Could I really do this? Could I lead? Wasn’t leadership reserved for people who already had it all figured out? You know, the ones with the job title and the expensive suits?Gilbert Grimshaw’s voice echoed in my head: “Potential isn’t enough, Percival. You lack execution.” Right. As if leadership was just a box you checked off on a to-do list.I sighed. The amygdala, that lovely little almond shaped part of the brain responsible for fear, was having a field day with me. Fear is the brain’s way of protecting you from change, Madeline had said during the seminar. It’s an outdated survival instinct.Maybe that’s all this was—my brain screaming at me to stay safe, to avoid the unknown. But I was tired of playing it safe. Maybe it was time to do something radical. Like believe in myself.The Epiphany (Sort Of)The project landed on my desk with all the grace of a dead fish. Grimshaw had handed it off with a smirk, his words dripping with condescension: “Lead it, or it drowns.”I stared at the mess of timelines, data, and vague objectives, my heart sinking. My brain was already firing off its usual panic signals—cortisol, adrenaline, the works. It was like having a backseat driver screaming at you to turn around when all you wanted to do was move forward.But then something shifted. A memory surfaced, something my mother had said to me once during one of her many life lessons: “For God didn’t give you a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and self-discipline.” (2 Timothy 1:7) or something like that.Fear wasn’t supposed to define me. Power, love, and self-discipline—those were the tools I could have at my disposal. Not fear.I took a deep breath. I didn’t have to have all the answers. I just had to take the first step. The rest would follow.The CollapseI wish I could tell you it all went perfectly from there. That I stepped into leadership with grace and confidence and everything clicked into place. But that would be a lie.The first few days were chaos. People talking over each other, deadlines shifting like quicksand, and me, trying to hold it all together with nothing but a whiteboard and a growing sense of dread.But then, little by little, things started to fall into place. Felicity Farnswell, my ever-cheerful colleague, pulled together a brilliant pitch deck. Sam Sedgewick, my so-called rival, actually contributed some solid ideas. And me? I found myself in the middle of it all, coordinating, encouraging, and—dare I say it—leading.It felt like my brain was rewiring itself in real-time. Dopamine, I remembered Madeline called it, was firing every time we made progress, reinforcing these new neural pathways. Maybe I could do this. Maybe I could actually lead.But just as quickly as things came together, they fell apart.The final presentation bombed. Grimshaw tore it to pieces in front of the entire team, his icy gaze cutting through me like a lser. “This is subpar, Percival. I expected more.”My heart sank. My brain, ever the pessimist, was already retreating to the safety of I told you so. The cortisol hit me like a wave, turning my thoughts into static.I felt the fire inside me dim, flickering under the weight of failure. I knew it, I thought. I’m not cut out for this.Know someone who would like this?The Spark ReignitesBut then, as I stood in the wreckage of our failed project, something Madeline had said came back to me: “Failure isn’t the end. It’s just a detour. Its an opportunity to evaluate and learn”Right. A detour. Not a dead end.I didn’t quit. I didn’t retreat. Instead, I went back to my team—Felicity, Sam, and the others—and we tore the project apart, piece by piece, and rebuilt it. Stronger. Better.And this time? It worked.The next presentation got approved. Grimshaw, of course, couldn’t bring himself to admit it, but I could see the begrudging respect in his eyes. And for the first time in a long time, I felt that spark reignite inside me.Maybe leadership wasn’t about never failing. Maybe it was about failing, and then getting back up. About pushing forward, even when everything in your brain was telling you to give up.As I looked around at my team, I felt something shift. Maybe I wasn’t Madeline Marchbanks. Maybe I’d never be like Grimshaw. But I didn’t need to be.I just needed to be me.Consider it pure joy when you face trials of many kinds, for the testing of your faith produces perseverance. (James 1:2, paraphrased). Perseverance. That was something I could get behind.The Journey BeginsThe office was still the same. The people were still tapping away at their keyboards, still laughing at jokes that weren’t funny, still pretending we were all on some grand journey to success.But something had changed. Inside me.The spark was still there, burning brighter now, and for the first time, I didn’t feel like a background character in my own life. I didn’t have all the answers, but I had something better: the courage to keep moving forward, even when the path wasn’t clear.This wasn’t the end of the story. It was just the beginning.Now, will you join me?Questions for reflectionQuestion 1: Are You Living or Just Existing?* Engage with Your Inner Spark: Have you ever felt that itch, that gnawing doubt, whispering that there must be more to life? What holds you back from searching for deeper purpose and fulfillment in your daily routine?Question 2: The Fear Factor—Protective Instinct or Limiting Barrier?* Unravel Your Fears: How often do you let fear take the wheel in your life decisions? Reflect on whether your caut...

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Beauty Out of Ashes

Oct 17, 202400:16:20Tap to summarize

Stepping into the FlamesI should’ve known the minute I walked into the boardroom. It was like stepping into a burning building, the heat already unbearable, but no one seemed to notice the flames licking at the walls. The air was thick with the smoke of denial—but they all carried on as if the fire wasn’t inching ever closer. Papers were strewn across the table like kindling, and the execs sat there, eerily calm, adjusting their tailored suits while the room slowly turned to ash. I had been called in as the so-called “firefighter,” the one meant to contain the blaze, but judging by their faces, they weren’t interested in saving anything—they just wanted to pretend the fire wasn’t real.Sir Cedric Crumble, the CEO, sat at the head of the table like a modern King Canute defying the tide, his throne embodying authority. His arms were crossed so tightly that he seemed on the verge of transforming into a pretzel. His piercing gaze made me feel as though I had proposed something as ludicrous as renaming the company "Fluffy Bunnies Inc."Then there was Clarissa Cloudhop, the Chief Marketing Officer, who was more interested in her phone than in the future of the company. She was probably scrolling through some influencer’s post about the latest trend in dancing with avocado toast while I tried to convince her that the business was sashaying toward the drain.Colin Cramble, the Chief People Officer, shuffled papers nervously, like he was trying to solve a Sudoku in his head. And at the far end, Constance Construct, the only one who seemed vaguely connected to reality, sat quietly, fingers tap-tapping on the table. She might actually get it, but even she looked worn out, like she’d spent too long trying to fight this losing battle.I cleared my throat, launching into my now-familiar spiel. “The company’s on the edge. If we don’t make significant changes—”Sir Cedric cut me off with a sigh that could’ve blown out a candle at 20 feet. “We’ve been through downturns before. This is nothing new.”I blinked. Nothing new? This wasn’t a simple market downturn; it was in a full-on nosedive, and Sir Cedric was acting like we could coast through it on good vibes and nostalgia.Stubborn WallsI pressed on, refusing to let Cedric’s indifference derail me. “If we don’t adapt, we won’t survive. The market has shifted, and we haven’t kept up. Our strategies are outdated, our customer base is shrinking, and employee morale is at an all-time low.”Sir Cedric waved a dismissive hand, like he was swatting at a fly. “What you’re suggesting is change for the sake of change. We’ve been profitable for decades. Why fix what isn’t broken?”I could feel my frustration bubbling up. “Because it is broken, Sir Cedric. We’ve lost a third of our customers in the last year. The employees are disengaged, and we’re…” I looked around the table, “we’re running on fumes.”Clarissa glanced up from her phone, her eyes sparkling with a new idea. “Ooh, maybe we should rebrand! How about neon colours? Or no, wait—we could pivot to influencer marketing! Everyone’s doing it these days.” She was enthused, alive with the brightness of her own brilliance.I stared at her, half-expecting her to suggest we all start co-ordinated TikTok dances instead of our selling the actual product. “Influencer marketing isn’t going to fix this.”She pouted, and rolled her eyes before turning them back to her phone and with a petulant sigh, “Well, you don’t have to be so harsh.”Colin was still rummaging through his pile of papers, perhaps searching for a magical survey that would tell him why half the workforce was ready to jump ship. And Constance? Constance looked at me with those tired eyes that said, I’m sorry you have to deal with this.I took a deep breath, remembering something I’d read about the brain and change. Neuroplasticity, that’s what it was called. The brain resists change because it’s wired to stick with familiar patterns. Comfort zones are cozy ruts, and Cedric was deeply nestled in his. If we wanted to break out of this mess, we’d have to disrupt the old patterns, like plowing over a field to plant new seeds.But Cedric? Cedric, like a stoic ship’s captain, would rather go down with his sinking ship than swim for the shore.Speaking Truth to Deaf EarsEvery word I spoke felt like I was throwing gravel at a brick wall, hoping it would crack. But the wall was reinforced with layers of stubbornness, fear, and denial. I could see it in Cedric’s eyes—he wasn’t going to budge. Not today. Not next week. Maybe not ever. Each meeting had become a painful exercise in futility, and I was running out of steam.I felt a tightness in my chest, the kind that builds when you’ve been fighting the same battle over and over, only to see no progress. I felt like screaming, to shake them and make them see the reality that was staring them full in their faces. But I knew that wouldn’t work. Not with them.My mind wandered back to something I’d learned about in a Psychologist’s TED talk about how the brain’s default response to overwhelming change ban be to shut down completely, to retreat into familiar territory. Cedric’s brain, it seemed, had built itself a fortress of complacency, and no matter how many times I tried to break through, I was just one person against a wall built over decades.I felt like I was alone in this, like Sisyphus trying to push a boulder up a hill while everyone else was busy watching from the valley below.Then, just as I was about to wave the white flag, Constance—quiet, steady Constance—spoke up.“Maybe we’ve been too focused on staying comfortable,” she said, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “Maybe it’s time we embrace a little discomfort.”The room went still. Cedric’s eyes narrowed. Clarissa, predictably, looked horrified. Colin looked like he’d just heard someone suggest they set the building on fire.But Constance didn’t flinch. “We’ve been avoiding the hard stuff because it’s scary. But maybe that’s exactly what we need. Maybe failing a little now is better than failing completely later.”For the first time, I felt a flicker of hope. Finally, someone was echoing what I’d been saying all along. Change is uncomfortable. Growth is painful. But it’s necessary, nay, essential. “There is no growth without change, no change without fear or loss and no loss without pain.” I reminded myself of that famous Rick Warren quote.Of course, I should have known better. Cedric leaned back in his chair, his lips curling into a dismissive smile. “Discomfort? This is business, not philosophy class. We’ve survived worse times without needing to suffer. I didn’t get where I am today by suffering.”And just like that, the flicker of hope was extinguished. I remembered a Bible verse my old mentor used to quote whenever I hit a wall: “Some seed fell on rocky ground, where it didn’t have much soil. It sprang up quickly, but when the sun came up, the plants were scorched, and they withered because they had no root.” (Matthew 13:5-6, paraphrased).I could feel the truth of it. Cedric’s mind was rocky soil—any seed of change that tried to take root was scorched before it even had a chance. It was almost as if he wanted to tease us with believing he wanted change and then snatching it away like a cruel joke.Wrestling ResistanceI left the meeting feeling like I’d been run over by a bus, survived and hit by another bus just as I got to my feet again. Constance caught up with me in the hallway, her face apologetic. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I tried.”“You did,” I replied, forcing a smile. “But Cedric’s mind is like a fortress. He’s not letting any new ideas in.”Constance sighed. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep fighting this. I’m not sue it’s worth it.”I didn’t know either. Over the next couple of days, I tried to regroup, going over my notes, reworking my presentation, searching for something—anything—that would get through to Cedric. But each time I thought I had a new angle, it felt like I was just patching holes in a sinking ship.Facing FailureAfter that meeting, each day felt like I’d been sucker-punched. Every ounce of energy I had left was drained, and I wasn’t sure I had it in me to keep fighting. But quitting wasn’t an option—not yet. Not when there was still a sliver of a chance to turn things around.A few days later, the call came. Cedric wanted to see me in his office. My heart sank. This was it—the final showdown. I was to report to his office.Thanks for reading Difference Makers! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.His expression when I was ushered into the corner suite was unreadable, but I knew what was coming. “The board is considering other options,” he said flatly. “You’ve got one more chance to convince us. Otherwise, we’ll be moving in a different direction.”I didn’t have to ask what that meant. If I didn’t pull off a miracle, I’d be out—and so would the company, eventually. The stakes had never been higher.The day of the final meeting arrived, and the air in the boardroom was thick with tension. The weight of expectation pressed down on me, but I knew this was it. I’d either sink or swim.At the front of the room, I stood with my sweating palms by my sides, but my voice steady. “We are failing,” I began, locking eyes with Cedric. “Not because of the market, not because of the economy—but because we’re too afraid to change. We’ve been clinging to old habits because they’re comfortable, but comfort isn’t going to save us. Growth requires discomfort. It requires pain.”Cedric’s stony fa...

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