There was a time early in my career when I believed a leader’s job was to have all the answers. I thought that’s what made people trust you, that your knowledge and intelligence was proof of your authority.
One day, a mentor—someone much farther along in their leadership journey—offered me a gentle reframe that I’ve carried ever since. He said something like:
“Knowledge is important. But more important is the quality of your relationships and your ability to listen for other people’s wisdom.”
That conversation changed me. I began to see that my job wasn’t to be the smartest person in the room. My job it was to build trust, ask better questions, and help others be their most whole and creative selves.
I’ve now spent decades walking alongside leaders. And the truth is, the people I work with don’t need someone to give them answers. They need help getting unstuck. They need someone who can hear the story behind the story. They need someone who will ask the questions they’re afraid to say aloud, even to themselves.
This is especially true for nonprofit leaders and others working inside resource-poor systems. When you’re stretched too thin—when time, money, and people are all in short supply—it’s almost impossible to step out of urgency long enough to think clearly. Strategy suffers. Decisions get fuzzy. And the truth starts getting buried under a pile of good intentions.
I’ve worked with one nonprofit, off and on, for years. Every time they have invited me to help with strategic planning the amount of time they allotted was inversely proportional to the importance of the work. “We just have too much work to do. It’s been really hard to justify spending more than a few hours on it.” They could never quite slow down enough to ask the harder questions. Questions about who they serve, how they do it, and what might need to change.
I think a lot of leaders are like this. Overwhelmed, but convinced that the anxiety they live with is just the price of doing meaningful work.
But it doesn’t have to be.
A thinking partnership offers a different kind of space. One where you can surface the truths you’ve been avoiding. Where you can see the harmful patterns you’ve internalized or built your systems around. Where you can recover your perspective—and maybe even some energy.
If that sounds like something you need, here’s my invitation:
Let’s talk. Bring your fears, frustrations, or failures. Or bring something you’d like to create momentum around. Let’s spend an hour together and just see how it feels to have someone listen without judgment and help you move forward.
We can meet over coffee. Or go for a walk. Or whatever helps you feel safe.
Because sometimes, one honest conversation is all it takes to begin again.