The Signal from the Noise.
Welcome to my thoughts and musings on anything that feels remotely relevant to my work as a communications evangelist and truth seeker. Join me in the comments, or reach out if something in my writing spoke to you.
Enjoy the party.
We’re all just living in The Matrix.
We use the language of performance all the time in corporate life, even if we don’t realize it. We talk about someone “stepping into” a role. We say they’re “wearing the CEO hat” or “playing the part” of the leader. The metaphor is already there, baked into how we describe leadership transitions. And yet, when leaders feel themselves performing, they interpret it as inauthenticity.
What got you this far won’t necessarily get you where you need to go next.
In The Diplomat, Kate Wyler tells her husband that the instincts that once made him great are now the very things holding him back. It’s a moment about power, ego, and self-awareness. In watching the scene, I was struck by its perfect mirror for how leaders and founders often outgrow their own playbook without realizing it.
I can’t stop thinking about Unreasonable Hospitality.
I just finished Will Guidara’s Unreasonable Hospitality and for weeks now I’ve been telling everyone I know to read it and discussing it with anyone who is willing to nerd out about hospitality with me, but beyond my fascination with the world of Michelin-starred restaurants, I keep coming back to a simple question: What if we started treating communication like hospitality?
When Vision isn’t Enough.
Every founder eventually meets a threshold moment. The company you founded and built outgrows the identity you built for yourself. At that point, the choice isn’t simply whether to keep going or step aside. It’s whether you are willing to face the truth of who you are as a leader, or whether you choose to deny it, telling yourself the old version of you will be enough.
Without Truth, There is Only Tragedy.
It’s been a handful of hours since I finished the fourth and final season of HBO’s Succession, glued to the perfect final episode of a perfect show, and just like every day that I have watched members of the Roy family navigate their tragic existences, I have been riveted, enthralled and several other thesaurus words that can maybe attempt to explain what watching these characters over forty perfect episodes has done to my brain chemistry.