It’s a question many of us are carrying right now — quietly, persistently, sometimes with exhaustion woven through it, often with more weight than we can name. The world feels heavy. Systems feel strained. The pace of crisis, division, and uncertainty can feel relentless. Even when we’re not directly impacted in a given moment, the collective ache has a way of finding us. It shows up in our bodies, our conversations, our sense of responsibility to one another.

There are seasons when forward motion isn’t the bravest thing you can do. Not because you’re stuck. Not because you’ve failed. But because something wiser is asking for your attention. The bravest thing in those moments is to pause. To listen. To come back to what’s underneath all the motion.

This is the work of returning to the Cor.

January loves reinvention. New goals. New systems. New versions of ourselves, carefully curated and quietly compared.

The message is subtle but relentless: Become someone else, and everything will feel better.

But here’s the quieter truth most leaders already know — even if they haven’t named it yet:

Most of us don’t actually need to reinvent ourselves. We need to come back to ourselves.

Endings are one of the most overlooked parts of leadership. We celebrate beginnings and navigate the middle, but the close of a season carries its own quiet wisdom. When we pause long enough to listen, endings reveal who we’ve become, what’s complete, and what’s asking for space as we move forward.

When we think of leadership, it’s easy to picture titles. Job descriptions. Offices with nameplates.

For many of us, leadership was first defined by position: the person at the front of the room, the one with the authority to decide, the title that signaled power.

We often imagine leadership as steady forward motion. A straight line of progress and achievement.

But real leadership is rarely linear. It’s full of detours, pauses, and moments when we miss the mark.

There is something special about Fall.

There’s something in the crispness of the air, the shifting light, the blaze of color across the trees that feels like an invitation to pause and pay attention.

When we hear the word boundaries, many of us think of walls. Firm lines. Something that pushes others away.

But boundaries, at their best, are not about disconnection. They are about care.

I recently returned from a stretch of vacation after a busy professional season. At first, it was hard to even slow down…..

In seasons of transition, it’s easy to feel unmoored or uncertain. But these moments can also be powerful portals — opportunities to reflect, realign, and reconnect with what matters.

We hear it everywhere: Know yourself.
It’s printed on journals, slipped into speeches, stitched onto throw pillows like it’s simple.

But here’s the truth: knowing yourself is not a moment of arrival……

Let’s get this out of the way:
You are not behind.
You are not lost.
And you don’t need a five-year plan to be living with purpose.

I didn’t set out to build a business. I set out to build a space I couldn’t find.