Freedom Begins in the Mind

Recently, I've been spending time watching the new baby black crested mangabey at the zoo where I volunteer. His name is Sullivan. He's about two months old now—still tiny, still dependent on his mother's milk, still very much a baby. 

But something fascinating is happening. He's begun picking up pieces of lettuce and bringing them to his mouth. He's not actually eating the lettuce yet. He's copying his mother.

Watching him has been a delightful reminder that humans are apes too, and we learn much the same way. Before we understand the world, before we can reason about it, we imitate. We watch others. We mimic their behaviors. We absorb the habits, beliefs, fears, and preferences of the people around us.

This ability to learn through observation is one of our species' greatest strengths. It allowed human knowledge and culture to accumulate across generations. We don't each have to rediscover fire, invent language, or figure out social rules from scratch.

But this remarkable ability comes with a cost. The same brain that allows us to learn from others also makes us susceptible to being influenced by them. And that is why freedom begins in the mind.

When we think about freedom, we often think about external things—freedom of speech, freedom of movement, freedom from oppression. These freedoms matter enormously. But there is another kind of freedom that is just as important and often overlooked:

The freedom to think for yourself.

Your Brain Is Designed to Be Influenced

Every day, our thoughts, beliefs, and behaviors are being shaped by forces around us. Advertisers compete for our attention. Social media algorithms reward outrage and conformity. Peer groups exert pressure to fit in. Political movements, cultural narratives, and even workplace dynamics all attempt to influence what we believe and how we behave.

Most of this influence is not malicious. It is simply part of being human.

We evolved to be social because, for our ancestors, belonging to the group often meant survival. Individuals who paid attention to what others were doing and copied successful behaviors had an advantage.

The baby mangabey doesn't need anyone to explain to him that lettuce is food. He watches his mother and begins practicing the behavior long before he fully understands it.

Humans do the same thing.

Children imitate language, emotional reactions, social norms, and cultural beliefs long before they are capable of critically examining them. As adults, we continue to imitate, often without realizing it. We adopt opinions from our social groups, absorb assumptions from our cultures, and unconsciously respond to rewards and punishments in our environments.

Over time, these influences can become so deeply ingrained that we mistake conditioned responses for freely chosen decisions.

Freedom Requires Self-Awareness

The question is not whether we are influenced. We all are.

The question is whether we understand those influences well enough to choose how we respond to them.

Psychological freedom begins with self-awareness.

The moment we start asking questions, we reclaim power:

• Why do I believe this?
• Who taught me to think this way?
• Is this belief based on evidence or social pressure?
• Am I acting from my values or reacting from fear?
• Does this choice reflect who I want to be?

These questions interrupt automatic responses and create space for conscious choice.

Freedom lives in that space.

This is why critical thinking is so important. It is not merely an intellectual skill. It is a form of self-defense.

A person who understands behavioral psychology, cognitive biases, and social influence becomes significantly harder to manipulate. They become less dependent on social approval and more capable of acting according to their own values.

The Five Managerial Superpowers and Mental Freedom

Many people think leadership is about influencing others. But ethical leadership begins with learning to lead ourselves.

In Mastering the Five Managerial Superpowers, I explore five essential capacities that help individuals reclaim control over their thinking and behavior:

• Self-awareness
• Compassion
• Self-control
• Understanding behavioral science
• Managing conflict constructively

These are not merely management skills.

They are freedom skills.

Self-awareness helps us recognize when emotions and social pressures are driving our decisions.

Compassion allows us to understand others without becoming captive to their approval or disapproval.

Behavioral science teaches us how habits, rewards, and environments shape behavior—both our own and that of others.

Conflict management helps us resist manipulation through fear, intimidation, and social pressure.

Together, these skills create something powerful:

Psychological independence.

The ability to think clearly, act ethically, and choose deliberately instead of simply reacting.

Reclaiming Your Mind

Watching that little mangabey has reminded me of something profound.

Copying others is not a flaw in human nature. It is one of our greatest evolutionary strengths.

But maturity requires something more than imitation. At some point, we must move beyond merely copying the behaviors and beliefs around us and begin consciously deciding which ideas deserve our loyalty.

Freedom does not mean becoming immune to influence. That would be impossible.

Freedom means becoming aware of the forces shaping us and intentionally choosing which influences align with our values.

It means learning to pause before reacting.

It means questioning narratives, examining assumptions, and choosing principles over pressure.

Because while we cannot control everything happening around us, we can learn to better control how we respond.

That is where freedom begins.

Not in governments.
Not in institutions.
Not in other people.

But in the mind.

And perhaps one of the greatest forms of freedom available to human beings is this: the ability to understand how we are shaped, and then consciously choose who we wish to become.

If you would like practical tools for developing that kind of psychological independence, Mastering the Five Managerial Superpowers explores the behavioral science, self-awareness, and leadership skills that can help you become a more intentional, ethical, and resilient human being.

Because before we can lead others well, we must first learn how to lead ourselves.

When You Say No With Kindness, You Create Space for Better Things

One of the more surprising things people learn about me when they interview me is how often I say no.

That sounds strange coming from an entrepreneur.

Aren’t entrepreneurs supposed to say yes? Yes to opportunities. Yes to growth. Yes to networking. Yes to hustle. Yes to every customer, every invitation, every possibility.

But working for myself has taught me something different.

Balance doesn’t happen by accident.

When you work for yourself, every yes costs something. Usually time. Often energy. Sometimes peace.

So I say no to a lot of things.

Not because I’m lazy. Not because I’m ungrateful. Not because I don’t care.

I say no because every no creates space to fill with something better.

That “better” isn’t always productive. Sometimes it’s just life.

A movie with my husband.

An evening knitting.

A nice dinner.

A quiet afternoon.

Space to think.

Space to create.

Space to enjoy the business I worked so hard to build.

The point of working for myself wasn’t to become unavailable to myself.

That philosophy shows up in my work in practical ways.

There are things that need to happen to keep the business running that I simply don’t enjoy doing. So I hire people.

Delegation isn’t failure. It’s design.

Housekeeping? I hate dusting. So I pay someone else to do it.

That purchase isn’t about avoiding responsibility—it’s buying back time.

Time I can spend writing.

Time I can spend learning.

Time I can spend with people I love.

The same principle applies to opportunities.

People occasionally ask me to travel for speaking engagements.

Years ago, I might have automatically said yes.

Now?

If you want me to travel, you either need to compensate me enough that the tradeoff makes sense—or be located somewhere I’d genuinely enjoy visiting.  Ideally? Both. 

Travel isn’t just two hours of speaking. It’s preparation, airports, hotels, transit, recovery time, and days away from my family.

That’s a high price.

But technology gives us options. Want me to do a live Q&A? Great. Let’s do Zoom. One hour of meaningful interaction instead of several days lost to logistics.

That’s not saying no to people. That’s saying yes to a different way of working.

I use the same approach with my daily to-do list.

If I don’t want to do something—or don’t realistically have time to do it—I move it to another day.

People sometimes call that procrastination. I call it scheduling.

Because something interesting happens when you put things off, intentionally.

A surprising number of things never actually needed doing.

Other things turn out to matter and rise naturally to the top.

Deferring isn’t always avoidance. Sometimes it’s clarification.

You discover what’s essential by giving yourself permission not to do everything immediately.

Saying no with kindness isn’t about becoming closed off.

It’s about becoming intentional.

It’s recognizing that your calendar is a reflection of your values.

And if you fill every available space with obligations, there’s no room left for joy.

No room for relationships.

No room for curiosity.

No room for the things that make all the work worth doing.

Your life is finite.

Your time is finite.

Your energy is finite.

Spend them on purpose.

Say no kindly. Then fill that space with something better.

Evolution Doesn’t Plan—And Neither Should Learning

I was volunteering at the zoo recently and ended up having one of my favorite kinds of conversations—the kind where someone asks a question that seems simple but opens the door to something bigger.

We were talking about convergent evolution and mangabeys.

Mangabeys are a group of monkeys that scientists originally thought all belonged together because they look remarkably similar. Same general body shape. Similar lifestyles. Similar features.

Makes sense, right? Except… later genetic research showed something surprising. Not all mangabeys are actually each other’s closest relatives. 

Some mangabeys are more closely related to mandrills. Those in blue. 

Others are more closely related to baboons Those in orange and green. What is even crazier is that the one in green is more closely related to baboons than to the ones in orange.  Our species at the Chattanooga Zoo is the Black Crested Mangabey. 

Scientists originally grouped them together because, based on what they could observe, it seemed obvious. And then they learned more. Turns out different evolutionary branches arrived at similar solutions.

Why?

Because that body shape works really well for the ecological niche they occupy. Different animals evolving stumbled into that shape and form and teeth and enzyme creating saliva more than once.

That’s convergent evolution.

Once you start noticing it, you see it everywhere.

One of my favorite examples is the Tasmanian tiger. Despite the name, it wasn’t a tiger. It wasn’t even a cat. It was a marsupial.

But it evolved a body plan that looked remarkably similar to placental predators because those features worked for the job.

Different starting points. Similar destination.

The Big Question About Evolution

At that point in the conversation, one of the parents asked me a question I hear a lot: “But how do animals know how to change?”

And I love that question. Because the answer is simple and profound. They don’t. What they do is survive. 

Evolution doesn’t have goals. Animals don’t decide to grow longer legs or sharper teeth. Nothing is planning ahead.  They just survive. 

Every generation's DNA contains variation. Mutations happen naturally. Some help. Some hurt. Most don’t matter much.

If a variation helps an individual survive long enough to reproduce, it has a better chance of showing up in the next generation. If it doesn’t, it tends to disappear.

No intention.

No foresight.

Just survival. 

Given enough time and changing conditions, those that survive, may change into different shapes. Sometimes those shapes converge, like mangabeys. 

Sometimes those shapes diverge.  Like camelids in North America. When the ice age happened it disrupted the climate. Some camelids migrated to Asia to survive and evolved into modern camels. Others headed south and evolved into alpacas and llamas. The ones that stayed in North America - didn't survive and went extinct because of the changing climate. This is why even though this family of animals evolved on the North American continent for 10s of millions of years (there were tall giraffe types, and smaller types and giant ones), we have no camelids in North America anymore. Most didn't survive climate change. 

The Joy of Learning

What struck me afterward wasn’t just how interested this family was in the evolutionary biology which is super cool. It was the question I got after explaining how cool mangabeys are and the craziness of their convergent evolution.  

How do animals KNOW how to evolve. What shape will work for them? 

Because that question—that willingness to say “Wait… how does that actually work?”—is something I deeply admire.

That father could have nodded politely and moved on. Instead, he got curious. And curiosity changes everything.

Humanism, to me, starts there. With the recognition that the world is under no obligation to match our assumptions.

Sometimes what looks obvious turns out not to be true. Scientists thought mangabeys were all one close family. They asked more questions and learned otherwise.  And what they learned was even more amazing than their predecessors could have imagined. 

I’ve been interpreting for our black crested mangabeys for a year. I only learned their evolution recently. I volunteer at the zoo all the time and I still discover things I didn’t know.

That’s not failure. That’s the joy of learning.

The world is full of things we think we understand. Until we ask one more question. 

So stay curious.

Ask the question.

Be willing to discover you were wrong.

Be excited when reality turns out to be more interesting than you expected.

Because learning isn’t evidence that you didn’t know enough before. Learning is evidence that you’re paying attention. And that, to me, is one of the best parts of being human.

Beyond “I Love You”: Practicing All Forms of Love in Relationships and Life

 When most people think of love, they immediately think of eros—passionate, romantic love. And yes, eros is wonderful. It makes our hearts race, our palms sweat, and our Netflix nights feel electric. But here’s the truth: eros alone is not enough. Relying solely on eros can make relationships transactional—because desire can be conditional, fleeting, or tied to “what you do for me.”

Love is far richer than just eros. Philosophers and psychologists have identified many types:

• Philia: deep friendship and companionship
• Storge: familial, nurturing love
• Agape: unconditional, selfless love
• Fraternity: loyalty and camaraderie
• Ludus: playful, flirtatious love
• Pragma: practical, long-term love
• Self-love: recognizing your own worth and boundaries

A thriving relationship isn’t just built on one kind of love—it’s the combination of them all. Think of it as a recipe: too much eros without philia, storge, or agape, and your relationship is sweet but unstable. Too much pragmatism without playfulness, and you risk feeling like roommates rather than lovers.

Someone once asked me, “What’s a way to show your spouse you love them without saying the words, ‘I love you’?”

My answer: I want to be kissed on the neck—and then have him walk away. No words, no ulterior motive. Just a playful, spontaneous gesture. It’s eros, it’s agape, it’s philia—all wrapped into one moment. It says, “I love you—not because I expect anything, but just because.”

If you want to be a good spouse, practice all forms of love with your partner. Play. Care. Support. Nurture. Be loyal. Be practical. And don’t forget to love yourself along the way. Relationships thrive when love is multi-dimensional—and when it’s shared freely, without expectation, and with a dash of playful mischief.

Practicing all forms of love isn’t just good for relationships—it’s central to humanism itself. Humanism reminds us to love everyone, including ourselves, even in difficult moments. While eros—the romantic, passionate spark—may not always fit into this framework, the other forms of love—philia, storge, agape, fraternity, ludus, pragma, and self-love—are deeply aligned with humanist practice. By nurturing friendship, compassion, loyalty, playfulness, practicality, and self-respect, we cultivate a worldview grounded in empathy, mutual care, and the belief that all humans deserve dignity. Just as a thriving relationship depends on the richness of diverse love, humanism flourishes when love in all its forms guides our actions toward ourselves and others.

Late Stage Capitalism, Extinction Bursts, and What Comes Next

Everywhere online, people are declaring that we are living through “late-stage capitalism.” Usually, what they mean is simple: things feel unstable, exploitative, unequal, and increasingly absurd.

They’re not wrong. Societies unstable, business is exploitative, income inequality is bad, and politicians are doing increasingly absurd things.  

But I think many people misunderstand what “late stage capitalism” actually means — especially if we look at capitalism through the lens of Das Kapital and modern behavioral science.

Ironically, what we are experiencing may not be the end of capitalism, but rather one of the predictable crisis points in its evolution.

And understanding that matters because panic rarely helps societies evolve wisely.

Marx Wasn’t Predicting Stability

One thing Marx understood correctly is that capitalism is not a stable system. It expands, concentrates wealth, generates inequality, experiences crisis, adapts, and then expands again.

The boom-and-bust cycle is not a bug in the system. It simply is something that is predicted to happen from time to time as capitalist systems grow, evolve and adapt. 

Over time, capital tends to become concentrated. Wealth and power becomes concentrated too because large concentrations of capital can outcompete smaller ones. But eventually that concentration creates instability:

• consumers lose purchasing power,
• workers lose security,
• institutions lose legitimacy,
• and economic shocks become larger and more widespread.

At that point, correction becomes unavoidable.

Historically, those corrections are painful:

• unemployment,
• market collapses,
• political unrest,
• social anxiety,
• institutional distrust.

But history also shows something else: societies often emerge from these crises with reforms that improve life for large numbers of people.

The Great Depression helped produce Social Security, banking reforms, labor protections, and stronger safety nets. The 2008 Financial Crisis triggered major conversations about financial regulation, inequality, healthcare access, and economic precarity.

Progress rarely happens because systems voluntarily surrender power during times of comfort. More often, systems change because instability forces adaptation.

The Extinction Burst

This is where behavioral psychology provides an interesting lens.

In behavioral science, there is something called an extinction burst. When a behavior that used to work stops producing the desired result, the organism often responds by intensifying the behavior before finally changing course.

A child screams louder before giving up a tantrum.
A gambler doubles down after losses.
A toxic workplace becomes more controlling when employees begin resisting.

Systems do this too.

When capitalism encounters instability, it often intensifies its own core behaviors:

• more extraction,
• more monetization,
• more consolidation,
• more financialization,
• more pressure for growth,
• more concentration of wealth.

This can feel terrifying when you’re living through it. And understandably so.

But intensification is not always evidence that a system is permanently winning. Sometimes it is evidence that the system is struggling to maintain equilibrium.

That does not mean collapse is guaranteed.
It does not mean utopia is guaranteed either.

It means we are living through a period of pressure and adaptation.

Is it Really Late Stage Capitalism?

It is worth noting that what many people online call “late-stage capitalism” is not what Das Kapital actually predicts. Marx did not argue that capitalism would simply become miserable and then suddenly collapse. He believed capitalism would continue evolving by increasingly socializing production itself — creating vast interconnected systems where labor becomes more collective, coordinated, and interdependent over time. 

In Marx’s framework, the truly “late” stage would likely involve much broader forms of communal or worker ownership of the means of production than we currently see. Interestingly, we are beginning to see early versions of this emerge through employee-owned companies, cooperatives, profit-sharing models, open-source collaboration, and highly networked forms of collective production. But these models are still relatively limited within a system where ownership remains heavily concentrated with individuals. 

In other words, if Marx’s model is even partially correct, and so far everything he predicted would occur has, we may still have significant instability and painful corrections ahead before a more genuinely communalistic economic structure becomes dominant.

Stay Calm — But Prepare

I suspect another correction is coming.

Not because I think civilization is ending, but because concentrated systems eventually destabilize themselves. Historically, they always have.

The important question is not whether change is coming.

The important question is:
What kind of change will follow?

History shows that crises can produce remarkable human progress:

• stronger protections for workers,
• better public health systems,
• more democratic participation,
• broader access to education,
• expanded civil rights,
• stronger social safety nets.

But crises can also produce fear, scapegoating, authoritarianism, and cruelty.

That is why preparation matters.

Not panic.
Preparation.

We need emotionally resilient people who can think clearly during instability.
We need communities that cooperate instead of fracture.
We need leaders capable of long-term thinking rather than reactive fear.
And we need humanistic values guiding what comes next.

Because economic systems are not forces of nature. They are human creations. They evolve according to the incentives, behaviors, and values we reinforce.

If a correction is coming, then this is not the time to surrender to doomscrolling and despair.

It is the time to ask:

• What systems actually help people thrive?
• What structures reduce unnecessary suffering?
• How do we preserve freedom while increasing stability?
• How do we ensure technological and economic progress benefits humanity broadly instead of concentrating into fewer and fewer hands?

Those are the real questions of the future.

What Comes Next Is Not Automatic

One of the biggest misunderstandings people have about history is believing that progress is inevitable.

It isn’t.

Progress requires participation.

Every major improvement in human society came from people who chose to build better systems after periods of instability:

• labor organizers,
• reformers,
• educators,
• scientists,
• policymakers,
• community leaders,
• ordinary people trying to solve practical problems compassionately.

The future is not predetermined.

But history suggests that periods of instability often become turning points. They force societies to reconsider what is sustainable and what is not.

So yes — stay calm.

But prepare.

Because corrections create openings.
And what fills those openings depends on us.

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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. 

Diversity, Critical Thinking, and the Question: What Don’t You Know?

Asking better questions builds better teams. Diversity helps us see what we don’t know and avoid costly blind spots before they happen.

I wanted to share this hilarious case study with you. I was recently offered a Gonift certificate through ParkMobile. So naturally, I did what any reasonably curious person does: I went online to find out what Gonift actually is.

And what I found made me laugh out loud. Like, hysterically. Because there are really only two possibilities here—and neither one is great. Before I explain why, here’s what Google helpfully summarizes (and I’m keeping this quote intact for a reason):

"Gonift" can refer to two very different things: a Hebrew/Yiddish term for a thief or swindler, or it can refer to GoNift (Nift), a digital platform that offers personalized gift certificates for products and experiences like food, beauty, and fitness, often through partnerships with other apps. The context usually makes it clear which meaning is intended.

1. Goniff (Hebrew/Yiddish)
Meaning: A thief, swindler, cheat, or generally dishonest person.
Pronunciation: GAH-niv.

2. GoNift (Nift)
What it is: A service that provides personalized gift cards for various merchants (restaurants, apparel, spas, etc.).
How it works: You receive a code (via email, app, etc.), enter it at GoNift.com, specify your interests, and get matched with a certificate for a local business.
Purpose: To help users discover new local businesses and services.

Now, back to those two possibilities.

Possibility #1: They Knew Exactly What the Word Meant

If the founders or decision-makers knew that “goniff” means thief or swindler in Hebrew/Yiddish and went with it anyway… then I’m not particularly interested in trusting them with my data, my time, or my money.

Even if the business itself is legitimate, that choice signals something important: a comfort with irony that relies on other people not knowing what the word means. That’s not clever branding - it’s a trust problem.

Possibility #2: They Had No One on the Team Who Could Tell Them

This is the more likely, and more instructive, scenario.

It means:

• No one involved recognized the word AND they didn't bother to google it. 

• No one thought to ask, “Does this name mean something in another language?”

• Or worse: someone did know and wasn’t listened to

And that is where diversity and critical thinking intersect.

Diversity Isn’t About Checking Boxes. It’s About Catching Blind Spots

This isn’t a story about hurt feelings or cultural sensitivity for its own sake. It’s a story about unknown unknowns.

Critical thinking isn’t just analyzing what’s in front of you. It’s asking:

• What might we be missing?

• Who would see something here that I wouldn’t?

• Who should I ask before we finalize this decision?

If you don’t have people around you with different cultural backgrounds, languages, life experiences, or perspectives, you are far more likely to make avoidable mistakes—and not even realize it.

A five-minute conversation with one Yiddish-speaking or Jewish team member (or consultant, or friend) could have stopped this dead in its tracks.

How Smart Teams Actually Use Diversity

The real value of diversity isn’t representation photos on a website. It’s access to knowledge you don’t personally have.

High-functioning teams:

• Encourage people to speak up when something feels “off”

• Reward questions like, “Should we double-check that?”

• Actively ask people who might know more than they do

That’s not political. That’s good risk management.

Why I’m Not Accepting the Gift Card

At the end of the day, I chose not to accept the Gonift certificate.

Not because I think everyone involved is malicious—but because this naming decision signals either:

• A comfort with deception, or

• A lack of curiosity and due diligence

Neither inspires confidence.  Seriously - they don't seem to have even - googled the term! 

The Takeaway

Diversity matters because you cannot Google what you don’t realize you should question.

Critical thinking requires humility and the willingness to admit:

“There are things I don’t know, and people who know more than I do.”

The smartest organizations don’t just tolerate those people.
They actively seek them out AND listen.

Because sometimes, the difference between a clever brand and an embarrassing mistake is simply having someone in the room who can say:

“Uh… you might want to rethink that name.”

The Rule of Threes: Break the Dichotomy, But Stay Focused

 

The Counterintuitive Power of Limiting Yourself to Three Ideas

When people hear “think outside the box,” they usually imagine expanding possibilities—more ideas, more options, more creativity. But here’s the paradox: expanding your thinking can actually help you focus it.

In my work on humanistic management and humanistic living—especially in teaching critical thinking skills—I’ve found that people often struggle not because they lack ideas, but because they feel overwhelmed by too many possible directions, or trapped inside a false either/or choice. So I teach a simple, deceptively powerful tool: the Rule of Threes.

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The Rule of Threes: Break the Dichotomy, But Stay Focused

When solving a problem, I encourage learners to generate at least three possible solutions. Not one. Not two.

Three.

Why three?

1. It breaks false dichotomies.

Much of our daily thinking runs on autopilot, and that leads to binary traps:

• “It’s this or that.”

• “Do I quit or stay?”

• “Do we choose option A or B?”

Advertisers use this all the time—manufacturing the illusion of only two choices so the “right” one seems obvious.

Requiring three possibilities short-circuits this mental habit. As soon as you generate a third option, your brain shifts gears from decision mode to creative mode. Once three options exist, people can usually think of four or five—because they’ve escaped the mental cul-de-sac.

2. Creativity scales through repetition.

If you can create three ideas once, you can do it again. The brain learns that ideation is a process, not a miracle. This builds confidence and momentum.

3. Paradoxically, limiting to three options increases focus.

This is the counterintuitive part.

When people feel overwhelmed—too many choices, too much uncertainty—asking them to think “outside the box” can backfire. More ideas become more noise.

So the Rule of Threes does two things simultaneously:

• Expands thinking beyond the obvious two choices

• Constrains thinking so it doesn’t sprawl into paralysis

It’s the sweet spot: just enough ideas to escape limitation, but not so many that clarity dissolves.

When people limit themselves (even arbitrarily) to three possible solutions, something important happens:

• The mind stops spiraling.

• Attention narrows.

• Evaluation becomes manageable.

• Action becomes possible.

Three options are few enough to examine deeply, but many enough to break the illusion that only two paths exist.

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Why This Works Psychologically

Cognitively, humans are wired to work well with small, structured sets. Three items…

• Give a sense of completeness

• Are easy to compare

• Fit within working memory

• Reduce anxiety tied to choice overload

This makes the Rule of Threes a kind of mental focusing lens—a way to use creativity to produce clarity, not chaos.

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When to Use the Rule of Threes

• When feeling stuck between two unsatisfying choices

• When overwhelmed by too many possibilities

• When trying to step outside conventional thinking

• When starting any brainstorming or prioritization session

It applies to personal decisions, leadership situations, design thinking, conflict resolution, and coaching conversations.

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A Practical Example

Imagine you're deciding how to respond to a difficult situation at work. You initially see only two choices:

1. Say nothing and stay frustrated

2. Confront the person directly

Using the Rule of Threes, you must generate at least one more:

3. Ask for a mediated conversation

4. Send a thoughtful email instead of an in-person confrontation

5. Clarify expectations with your manager first

Suddenly, the problem looks different. You’re no longer trapped. You’re choosing intentionally.

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In Short

Thinking outside the box doesn’t require infinite possibilities.
Sometimes, all it takes is three.

Three ideas: enough to open the mind.
Only three ideas: enough to focus it.

The Rule of Threes helps people move beyond false dichotomies and avoid the overwhelm of unlimited choice. It’s counterintuitive—but profoundly effective.

Learn More

If you find tools like the Rule of Threes helpful, you may enjoy diving deeper into the full framework of humanistic management and humanistic living that I teach. My online courses and books offer practical, compassionate approaches to thinking, leading, and problem-solving in everyday life. You can explore them anytime at https://humanistlearning.com.