What Comes Next, Matters!

 When crisis hits, most people flail.

That’s not a judgment—it’s a description. It’s human. Something breaks, something shocks us, something changes faster than we can process, and we react. Emotionally. Urgently. Loudly.

But flailing is not planning.

And what comes next depends on whether we stay in reaction…or move into intention.

Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, crisis destroys what was—but it also creates the conditions for something new to emerge. The fire doesn’t just consume; it clears away what no longer works. What rises next isn’t accidental—it depends on what we choose to rebuild. If we approach hardship with intention, clarity, and purpose, we don’t just recover—we transform, shaping a stronger, wiser future from what was lost.


The Question That Changes Everything

In any crisis—personal, professional, or societal—the most important question isn’t:

“How bad is this?”

It’s:

“What do we want to come next?”

Because naming the problem, even accurately and passionately, does not create a better future. Saying “this is horrible” may be true. It may even be necessary in the moment.

But it doesn’t move us forward.

At some point, we have to ask:

  • What good could come out of this?
  • What do we want to build from the ashes?
  • What would “better” actually look like?

Without those answers, we’re not responding to crisis—we’re just experiencing it.


Humanism and the Responsibility to Build

From a humanist perspective, there is no external force coming to fix things for us. No cosmic reset button. No guarantee that things will “work out.”

That can feel daunting. But it’s also empowering.

Because it means the future is, in part, ours to shape.

I often come back to a version of the Serenity Prayer:

Have the courage to change the things you can,
the patience to accept the things you can’t,
and the wisdom to know the difference.

The hardest part isn’t courage or patience.

It’s knowing the difference.

That’s why humanists rely on tools like science, logic, and skepticism—to help us accurately assess reality. To figure out where we actually have influence, and where we don’t.

Because here’s the danger: if we assume everything is out of our control, we may accept situations we could have changed. We may surrender agency where action was possible.

Humanism pushes in the opposite direction. It asks us to be thoughtfully optimistic—to assume change is possible, test that assumption, and act where we can.


From Reaction to Intention

Moving from flailing to planning requires one critical shift:

You must have some idea of the future you want.

Not a perfect plan. Not a guaranteed outcome. Just a direction.

Because once you know what you want to come next, you can begin asking better questions:

  • What would make this situation meaningfully better?
  • What specific changes would prevent this from happening again?
  • What systems, structures, or behaviors need to evolve?

This applies at every level of life.


In Society and Politics

If a crisis exposes a systemic failure, then the question becomes: what structural changes would lead to a better outcome next time?

Vague outrage won’t get us there. Concrete ideas might.

For example:

  • If we’re concerned about unchecked executive power, what specific safeguards would reduce that risk?
  • What laws, policies, or even constitutional changes would create better accountability?

Not all ideas will be good ones. Not all will be feasible. But the act of generating tangible, testable proposals is how progress begins.


At Work

When something goes wrong professionally—a failed project, a toxic dynamic, a broken system—the same principle applies.

  • What worked, even a little?
  • What didn’t?
  • What do we want to be different next time?

Crisis can become a catalyst for better processes, clearer communication, and stronger boundaries—if we choose to extract those lessons and act on them.


In Relationships

Conflict, loss, and disruption in relationships are some of the hardest crises we face.

And yet, even here:

  • What kind of relationship do you want going forward?
  • What behaviors need to change—yours or theirs?
  • What boundaries or expectations would create something healthier?

You may not control the other person. But you always have some influence over what you bring into the next chapter.


A Simple Framework for Moving Forward

No matter the situation, you can ground yourself with three questions:

  1. What good do I want to come out of this—for myself?
  2. What good do I want to come out of this—for others?
  3. What good do I want to come out of this—for my community?

(In that order.)

Then ask:

What can I do—right now—to start moving in that direction?

Not someday. Not when things calm down. Not when someone else fixes it.

Now.


Start Where You Have Control

Nothing in life is guaranteed. Even the best plans can fail. That uncertainty is real—and yes, it’s stressful.

But uncertainty doesn’t remove responsibility. It clarifies it.

We don’t control outcomes.
We do influence them.

So when crisis hits:

  • Accept what is real.
  • Decide what you want next.
  • Identify what you can control.
  • Start working toward it.

Because what comes next doesn’t just happen.

It gets built.


Learn More: 


If you want to move from flailing to planning, this is exactly the skill set I teach in Reality Based Decision Making for Effective Strategy Development. The core idea is simple but powerful: you can’t build a better future if you’re not grounded in reality. Instead of reacting emotionally or getting stuck in overwhelm, you learn how to assess what’s actually happening, identify what you can control, and make intentional, strategic choices about what comes next. It’s a practical framework for turning crisis into clarity—so you can stop reacting to events and start shaping outcomes.

Show Up Anyway: What Sumo Can Teach Us About Resilience

I watch a lot of sumo wrestling. One of the things I love most about it isn’t just the strength or the ritual — it’s the raw, visible lesson in resilience.

Every once in a while, a top-ranked wrestler has an absolutely terrible tournament.

Not just “off their game.” Catastrophic by anyone's standards.

I once watched an Ozeki, 2nd highest rank in the sport, win a tournament and then come back the next tournament and lose 13 out of 15 matches. It was horrifying! 

In most professions, that kind of reversal would trigger panic, excuses, or disappearance. But in sumo, there is no hiding. He showed up every day, stepped into the ring, and fought, and lost. Yet, he kept showing up and trying his best. 

That’s resilience in its purest form.

In January 2026 one of my favorite wrestlers, Ura, had a 4–11 tournament. Four wins. Eleven losses. One of his losses was especially cruel since he should have won it. In fact, he did win it. He beat the Yokozuna Onosato. The judges overturned his win by claiming a rule that doesn't exist (dead body rule) and ruled the match was a tie and made them wrestle again. And the 2nd time the Yokozuna won.  

Imagine beating the best wrestler in the world, feeling that victory, and then having it taken away. Publicly. Officially. Final decision.  His comment when asked about it was - I can't be expected to beat a Yokozuna twice in one day. Which is an unusually direct statement of annoyance from a Japanese sumo wrestler. 

And yet, despite how clearly unfair that situation was, he showed up the next day smiling.

Not fake smiling. Grounded smiling. Ready-to-fight-again smiling. In fact, one of the reasons I like him so much, is even when he loses, he laughs it off, and just shakes his head. 

He keeps showing up. He keeps competing. He he loses a lot. But he keeps engaging fully, even when the results aren't going his way. It's one of the reasons he's a fan favorite. 

The Myth of Winning Streaks

We like stories of constant progress and uninterrupted success. They’re clean. They’re inspiring. They’re also rare.

Real performance - whether it is in sports, leadership, activism, inclusion work, and personal growth - looks much messier:

  • Strong seasons and weak seasons

  • Big wins and painful reversals

  • Fair calls and unfair rulings

  • Breakthroughs and plateaus

No one wins every match. Sometimes you don’t just lose — you lose a lot.

The question isn’t whether you’ll hit a bad stretch.

The question is: Will you show up anyway?

Showing Up Is a Skill — Not a Mood

Most people treat showing up as an emotion-based decision:

“I’ll show up when I feel confident.”
“I’ll show up when things are going well.”
“I’ll show up when I’m winning.”

But resilience doesn’t work that way. Showing up is a behavior — and behaviors can be trained.

In behavioral science terms, you don’t wait for motivation. You build the response pattern first. Action comes before confidence more often than the other way around.

Sumo wrestlers don’t get to skip a day because the last match was unfair.
They don’t get to opt out because their record is embarrassing.
They step out onto the clay anyway.

The Discipline of Continuing

There’s a special kind of strength in continuing when:

  • You know the odds aren’t in your favor

  • You feel discouraged

  • The last outcome was unfair

  • Your record looks bad

  • Others are counting you out

Continuing builds identity. It says: I am someone who engages, regardless of outcome.

That identity matters more than any single result.

The Quiet Power of Composure

What struck me most in these losing tournaments wasn’t just participation — it was composure.

No public meltdown.
No visible bitterness.
No withdrawal.

Just steady presence.

That doesn’t mean there’s no disappointment. It means disappointment isn’t in charge.

That’s emotional self-management in action — the same skill set that helps leaders navigate crisis, helps targets of bullying avoid escalation traps, and helps change-makers keep going when resistance shows up.

The Lesson

You will have seasons where things don’t go your way.

You will have stretches where you lose more than you win.
You will experience unfair calls.
You will feel the sting of reversals.

Show up anyway.

Step into the ring.
Do the work.
Engage the moment.
Keep your composure.
Return tomorrow.

Because resilience isn’t built in the victories.

It’s built in the days you show up while losing.

Leadership Takeaway: Show Up Anyway

Resilient leaders don’t wait to feel confident before they act — they learn how to regulate their emotions so they can stay engaged, steady, and effective even during setbacks. Showing up is a trained response, not a personality trait.

If you want a practical, behavioral-science approach to emotional self-management, response control, and conflict resilience, start here:

📘 Learn more: Mastering the 5 Managerial Superpowers
Learn how to control your emotional responses, interrupt escalation cycles, and stay constructive under pressure — so you can show up anyway, especially when it’s hardest.

Core skills: self-awareness • emotional regulation • strategic responding • conflict resilience • anti-bullying communication

The Other Emotion That Comes With Crisis: Annoyance

 I was having a great day.

I’d just been trained on a new animal at the zoo—a box turtle named Max. I was looking forward to getting real work done. I was looking forward to knitting a sleeve for a sweater I’m making.

And I did none of that.

Because a crisis showed up and took my entire afternoon—and now, several of the days ahead.

That’s how crisis often works. It doesn’t just scare us. It steals time. It interrupts momentum. It rearranges priorities without asking permission.


Once the immediate danger passed and I knew everyone was okay, the dominant emotion I felt wasn’t fear or sadness.

It was annoyance.

Annoyance Is Part of Crisis Too

I was annoyed that my day had been derailed.
Annoyed that this was going to cost us money.
Annoyed that the next two weeks of my life are now full of logistics, paperwork, and follow-ups instead of the things I had planned.

My real work—once again—has been delayed.
My hobbies. My fun. My focus.

All of it displaced by something I didn’t choose.

That emotion surprised me at first, but it shouldn’t have. Annoyance is a completely normal response to crisis, even though we rarely acknowledge it.

Multiple Things Can Be True

We tend to rank emotions during emergencies. Gratitude is acceptable. Fear is understandable. Relief is expected.

Annoyance feels… inappropriate.

But multiple things can be true at the same time.

You can be grateful that things weren’t worse and frustrated that your life has been disrupted. You can feel compassion for everyone involved and resent the practical consequences that now belong to you.

Annoyance isn’t a moral failure. It’s a reaction to lost time, lost control, and lost momentum.

The real risk isn’t feeling it. The risk is getting stuck in the idea that this isn’t fair.

The Trap of “This Isn’t Fair”

“This isn’t fair” is an understandable thought—and a useless one.

Crises don’t arrive on schedule. Accidents don’t check your calendar. Illness doesn’t care about your plans. Life doesn’t distribute inconvenience evenly.

From a Humanist perspective, this isn’t personal. It’s not punishment. It’s not meaningfully unfair.

It’s just reality doing what reality does.

Once I accept that, I can stop arguing with what happened and shift back into motion:

This happened.
I don’t like it.
Now what needs to be done?

That shift—from grievance to action—is what keeps annoyance from turning into resentment.

What This Looks Like at Work

This same emotional pattern shows up in the workplace all the time.

An employee’s partner gets sick. A child has a crisis. Someone’s mental health collapses. A sudden emergency pulls them away—and now your carefully planned week as a leader is disrupted too.

Deadlines slip. Projects stall. Your own work gets pushed aside.

It’s okay to feel annoyed about that.

Good leadership doesn’t require pretending those feelings don’t exist. It requires not letting them drive your response.

Strong leaders give people grace not because it’s convenient, but because it’s realistic. Every one of us will eventually be the person whose life explodes at the worst possible moment.

Designing for the Inevitable

If there’s any practical takeaway here, it’s this: systems should assume disruption will happen.

Not because people are unreliable—but because life is.

That means:

  • Building slack into timelines

  • Avoiding single points of failure

  • Cross-training instead of hoarding knowledge

  • Creating cultures where asking for help isn’t punished

This isn’t indulgence. It’s resilience.

Organizations—and leaders—that plan for uninterrupted productivity are fragile by design. Don't be fragile by design! 

Accept, Adjust, Continue

I don’t think annoyance needs to be fixed or reframed into gratitude. It just needs to be acknowledged and then set aside.

Accept that crisis will steal time.
Adjust what can be adjusted.
Continue doing the next solvable thing.

That’s how we stay human in the middle of disruption—without letting disruption take more than it already has.

Crisis is a VUCA moment—volatile, uncertain, complex, and ambiguous. Good leaders don’t eliminate those conditions; they help people function within them by grounding teams in reality and focusing on what can be done next.

Leadership Takeaway

Crises don’t just create fear—they create disruption, frustration, and lost momentum. Strong leaders don’t deny those emotions. They acknowledge them and help teams refocus on what can be solved next.

Reality-based leadership means:

  • Giving people grace when life intrudes

  • Designing systems that expect disruption

  • Helping teams move from “this isn’t fair” to “what’s the next actionable step?”

These skills—emotional regulation, realistic problem-solving, and strategic response—are core themes in my book and course, Mastering the Five Managerial Superpowers, which focuses on leading humans as they actually are, not as we wish they’d be.

Related Reading

If you’re interested in how a Humanist, reality-based mindset helps people cope with crisis itself—not just manage its fallout—you may also want to read:
When Crisis Hits: A Humanist Way of Coping

When Crisis Hits: A Humanist Way of Coping

 Today, my husband was in a bad car accident.

Thanks to modern vehicles and sheer luck, he’s okay. The man who hit him is okay too. There are injuries, but nothing life-threatening. We are fortunate—and I don’t use that word lightly.

This can happen to anyone. No one is immune.


A few months ago I went out to lunch with a new friend. Within two weeks of meeting her, her husband became gravely ill. For the past two months, she’s been shuttling him from doctor to doctor, trying to solve a terrifying mystery. He can’t breathe properly, but it’s not his heart. It’s not his lungs. No one knows why.

And while the crisis drags on, life doesn’t pause.

Work still needs to be done. Food still needs to be bought. Bills still need to be paid. The mundane mechanics of life keep grinding forward, even when everything feels fragile.

When my husband called me from the accident scene, I went into what I call “what’s next mode.”

What needs to be done right now?
What information needs to be gathered?
Who needs to be called?
What needs to happen tomorrow?

Doctor visits. Insurance claims. Lawyers. Logistics.

I didn’t panic. I didn’t freeze. I did what needed to be done. I took care of my husband. Then I cooked dinner. I folded laundry.

And then I started shaking.

Because once the immediate needs were met, reality caught up with me.

He could have died today.
The other man could have died today.

We aren’t guaranteed anything.

How Humanism Helps Me Cope

As a Humanist, I find that confronting this reality—honestly and without softening it—actually helps me cope.

We aren’t special.
Bad things happen.
They happen to everyone, eventually.

I waste zero time on “Why me?”
I already know the answer.

Because this is what being human means.

Sometimes we get lucky. Sometimes we don’t. That’s not punishment or destiny—it’s reality. And because that’s my starting point, I can accept what’s happening faster than if I believed there was a larger meaning to decode or a cosmic explanation I was owed.

I think this is one of the quiet strengths of Humanism.

Because we don’t believe we are protected or chosen, we accept reality sooner. And acceptance frees up energy—not for denial or bargaining, but for action.

Action Doesn’t Mean Emotional Absence

This doesn’t mean Humanists don’t feel deeply. We do.

I’m feeling it now—in the shaking, in the delayed adrenaline, in the sudden awareness of how close today came to going very differently.

But Humanism biases us toward reality-based action.

What can I do right now to make this situation a little bit better?

That question matters. It’s grounding. It gives us traction when everything feels unstable.

Action doesn’t erase grief or fear—but it keeps us moving through it instead of being consumed by it.

It’s Okay to Be Human

Crisis exposes something important: there is no “right” way to respond.

Sometimes the most human response is efficiency.
Sometimes it’s numbness.
Sometimes it’s tears that come hours—or days—later.

All of that is normal.

Humanism doesn’t ask us to transcend our humanity. It asks us to work with it.

To face reality as it is.
To care for one another because no one else is coming to save us.
To make things a little better where we can.

Humanistic Leadership in Crisis Situations

This same approach applies in workplace crises. Layoffs, public failures, harassment investigations, sudden leadership changes—these moments trigger fear and uncertainty just as powerfully as personal emergencies. Good leaders don’t dismiss emotions, but they don’t drown in them either. They make space for people to be human and help teams focus on what can be done next. What problems are solvable right now? What support is needed? What clarity can be provided? Reality-based leadership in crisis isn’t cold—it’s compassionate, stabilizing, and deeply human.

The Only Guarantee We Have

Every day we have with the people we love is a gift.

Not because it’s divinely granted.
Not because it’s deserved.
But because it’s temporary.

Knowing that doesn’t make life bleak for me—it makes it precious.

Today reminded me how thin the line is between “ordinary” and “everything changed.” And tomorrow, like today, will still require groceries, emails, and laundry.

But it will also require something else:

Presence. Gratitude. And the courage to keep acting in a world that offers no guarantees.

That, to me, is the Humanist response to crisis.

Learn More:

If you want to learn more - My first book and course can help.  I explore how to live humanistically, even when things are difficult or horrifying.

Book: The Humanist Approach to Happiness - https://humanistlearning.com/the-humanist-approach-to-happiness-book/

Course: Living Made Simpler - https://humanistlearning.com/livingmadesimpler1/

I don't sugar coat things. Life is often hard.  But that doesn't mean it's not also awesome.  There is a duality to life's experiences. Or rather a triality.  Sometimes it's great. Sometimes it's horrible and sometimes it is just ok.  If you let me, I can teach you how to cope in a way that will help you - make life, the good and the bad and the meh - simpler. 

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