I don’t normally send mid-week notes. This is a short one.

Today, I went live on Substack and walked through a shortened version of a masterclass I taught in March. The full version was an hour. Twenty-five people in the room. A few stories I’m still thinking about.

I’ll tell you about two of them.

Shauna told us about her old job. She rated it a 2 out of 5. Just enough to keep showing up, not enough to feel anything. Then COVID hit, and she lost her job. She told us losing that job was the best thing that ever happened to her. She’s thriving now, in work that actually fits who she is.

Then there was Nigel, a leader from Canada who was on a mission trip to Zambia. The first morning, he was frustrated by something most of us would be — there was no hot water. Later that day, he saw something that changed how he saw his own life.

I keep thinking about those two stories. They had nothing to do with promotions, titles, income, or “getting ahead.” They were about the moment a person stops measuring their life by what the world celebrates and starts measuring it by what actually fits them.

That’s what the masterclass is really about.

If you want to watch the full hour: Shauna and Nigel in their own words, the framework I walked everyone through, and a couple of moments I won’t try to summarize, here’s the recording:

Watch the full masterclass →

If something in those two stories sounds like you, that’s not an accident.

See you on Sunday.

“You'll never see a U-Haul behind a hearse. I don't care how much money you have or what level of notoriety you've achieved; you can't take any of it with you.”
—Denzel Washington

A few years ago, my boss reminded the team to use our vacation time. Under our PTO policy, you stop accruing once you hit 150% of your annual total. One colleague — the one with the most time banked — pumped his fist and said, “Yes, I win!”

I laughed. But the image that immediately came to mind wasn’t a trophy. It was that U-Haul that Denzel mentioned.

You know this in your mind, but do your actions show that you can’t take any of it with you? Not the vacation days, the 401k, the lake house, or the record collection. And yet, for much of my life, I didn’t stop to think about that. I was too busy chasing things I thought would bring fulfillment.

Author David Brooks draws a distinction between resume virtues and eulogy virtues. Resume virtues are what we talk about in life — where we work, what we’ve accomplished, the trophies on the shelf. Eulogy virtues are what gets said when we’re gone — who we were, how we loved, the relationships that defined our time here.

I spent a long time building the resume. Now I’m trying to build the eulogy.

That shift is what I mean when I think about legacy. Not what you leave in a will, but what you leave in people.

I think about my high school band director, Pat Ellison. She was relentless about excellence — her bands won every top award — but what made her special wasn’t the trophies. It was the way she cared for her students. She saw things in us we couldn’t see in ourselves, and she went out of her way, year after year, to show us that we mattered.1

That is legacy. That is the stuff of significance.

Actress Viola Davis captured it in her tribute to Cicely Tyson:

“There is a cap on earthly success, a ceiling on the amount of joy that possessions and awards can bring before disillusionment sets in. Our appearance, our prosperity, the applause: all of it is so fleeting. But a life of true significance has unlimited impact. It is measured in how well we’ve loved those around us, how much we’ve given away, how many seeds we’ve sown along our path.”

Pat Ellison passed away in 2021. She remains one of my heroes.2

Do you want your life to have unlimited impact? There’s won’t be a trailer hitch on the back of your hearse. Cast off what doesn’t matter and start building your legacy now.

See you next Sunday.

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Then she stepped back and asked a harder question:

Who am I when the achievement stops?

What she’s learned since is what this conversation is about. You can work hard, go after big things, and not lose yourself to them. Achievement can be something you do, not something you are.

In this discussion, Amanda opens up about:

• The moment she realized her resume was hiding the most important parts of her story

• What she tells her three boys every morning before the day starts

• The lie that high performers believe, and the line that finally set her free

• Why stepping into and out of achievement is the real definition of power

If you’ve ever wondered whether there’s a way to keep showing up at a high level without paying for it with your peace, the next 40 minutes are for you.

P.S. Today is my dad’s 89th birthday. We’re celebrating Hamdy Taha and the miracle that he is. Drop a comment on this post, and I’ll share it with him.

If you enjoyed this post, the best compliment I could receive would be for you to share it with one other person. Thank you.

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Shame, boatloads of shame
Day after day, more of the same
Blame, please lift it off
Please take it off, please make it stop
”Shame” - The Avett Brothers

For 30 years, my mornings looked the same.

5 AM. Coffee. Workout. Devotional time. Shower and dress. Drive to work. Sit down at my desk and open my calendar. Meetings stacked back-to-back. Deliverables with someone else’s deadline.

I didn’t have to decide what mattered that day. Someone else had already decided for me.

Then I took an early buyout from my corporate job to focus on coaching and writing full-time. And a few weeks in, I woke up at 6 AM, opened my calendar, and stared at a whole lot of nothing.

No meetings. No boss. No structure.

I thought that feeling would be exciting. It wasn’t. It was terrifying.

I’m generally an optimistic person, a “glass half full” kind of dude. But that blank calendar was messing with my head. What if I waste the whole day? What if I don’t get anything done?

I’ll be honest, those first several weeks, I didn’t sleep great. But I’ve learned a few things since then, and I want to share them with you.

When you’re staring at a problem you don’t know how to solve, you have three choices:

1. Blame others. Blame your job for making you dependent on structure. Blame your boss. Blame the system. This solves absolutely nothing. It just provides excuses so you don’t have to think about the real issue in front of you.

2. Focus on your shortcomings. Tell yourself you should have figured this out already. You’re behind. Other people handle this just fine. Why can’t you figure it out in a couple of months? This approach is like punching yourself in the face over and over. It won’t move you forward. It just confirms every fear you already had.

3. Or ask yourself: “What is this situation asking of me?” What am I being called to grow into? What new skills do I need to build? That, my friends, is a question worth asking.

The blank calendar wasn’t a threat. It was an invitation to a new life. For 30 years, someone else had been designing my days. This new situation was asking me to learn how to design my own. Of course, I didn’t know how to do it yet. It’s just a skill I hadn’t needed to develop until now. Now I have the opportunity to build those muscles.

I also noticed something else.

If I want to work out at 10 in the morning, I can. If Susanna and I want to hop on our bikes at 2 on a Tuesday afternoon, we can. The only have-tos on my list are the ones I’ve put there. That kind of freedom is invigorating.

C.S. Lewis said,

“There are far better things ahead than any we leave behind.”

I like his perspective. What we focus on expands. Why not focus on a positive outcome?

Choice #3 doesn’t make the challenge disappear. The blank calendar was still blank. The uncertainty was still real. But it shifted my posture from victim to owner. And an owner can get better every day.

You’re going to face something this week that doesn’t have an easy answer. Maybe it’s a close relationship that’s struggling. Perhaps you got a bad report from the doctor. A work initiative that went south. A college class project with a looming deadline and deadbeat teammates.

Before you blame someone else or beat yourself up, ask the question.

What is this situation asking of me?

You’re capable of rising to the occasion and becoming who you need to be in order to meet those challenges. I’m cheering for you.

P.S. This Friday at 1:30 PM CST, I will be talking to about how high performers can avoid the trap of tying their identity to their performance. It’s our first Substack live. Here’s the link. Do join us!

If you enjoyed this post, the best compliment I could receive would be for you to share it with one other person. Thank you.

A few days ago, I sent a text to some friends who had retired from the same company before I did. My question was, “How long did it take you to stop thinking about our company?” I have been struggling recently with how to hold my old career in one hand and my new career in the other.

One friend just called me instead of texting me back. He told me about an earlier part of his career, when stock awards would vest each summer. Around the office, the mantra was always the same: “June’s coming!” The money would roll in (and you probably already had it earmarked for something), but then what was next? Well, NEXT June is always coming.

Looking back, he said it was like wishing huge buckets of time away in the prime of your life. Waiting for the next thing. The next arrival point. But the longer you live, the more you realize that the one thing you can never get back is time.

I left my 30-year corporate career three months ago. It was my choice. They wanted me to stay. But I decided that pursuing a dream of building a leadership coaching practice was worth it.

What I didn’t expect was the identity crisis.

Maybe I’m being dramatic, but I don’t mean to be. But when you’re that tied to an organization, to a title, to a routine, to a place, your identity gets woven into all of it. You don’t realize how much until you’re standing in your home office on a Tuesday afternoon at 2 pm, wondering what your old teammates are up to.

I realized that I’ve been walking around with one foot in the old identity and one foot in the new. And if you’ve ever tried that, you know it doesn’t really work. It just leaves you unsettled.

Last week, I had the privilege to speak to around 80 college students on two campuses about taking responsibility for their future success. These are students who’ve spent 16+ years being measured by letter grades, and now many of them are worried about getting jobs in a tough market. Will the investment pay off? Will they be able to support a family one day? Was the degree worth it?

What hit me was this: they’re at the very beginning of a cycle I just stepped off of. Graduation. Job. Marriage. House. Kids. Retirement. Each one feels like an arrival. Each one promises that when you get there, you can rest in comfort.

But that ends up being an empty promise. I can tell you from experience. You get there, and you start looking for the next thing. That’s the thing nobody tells you. Having achievement goals isn’t the issue. The problem is believing that who you are is defined by what you do.

So what changed for me? Honestly, it was that 15-minute call with my friend. Hearing someone a little further down the road say, “Yeah, I still think about it too.” There was something freeing about that. I wasn’t crazy. I was just human.

Here’s the blessing. After that call, something shifted. Very simply, I felt permission to move on. I just felt God giving me the space to truly embrace this new adventure and go after it. To stop looking back at who I was and start becoming who I’m supposed to be.

Whether you’ve recently left a career that defined you for decades or you’re a college student who is about to walk across the stage in May, the challenge is the same. Be intentional about letting go of the old identity. The one built on titles, grades, org charts, or someone else’s measuring stick. Embrace the season you’re actually in, not the one you just left.

And do not try to figure it out alone. I’m not. I have my own coach. Find those people. Mentors. Friends who are a few steps ahead. People who’ve been where you are and can tell you the truth: it’s hard, it takes longer than you think, and it’s worth it.

Your life is full of necessary endings. They feel like losses in the moment, and some of them are. But every necessary ending is also a door. You just have to be willing to walk through it.

Give yourself permission to become someone new. That’s not quitting who you were. That’s getting excited for what’s next.

Thank you, Steve, for that phone call.

See you next Sunday.

P.S. I want to welcome new readers from Harding University and the University of Arkansas! Glad you joined us.

If you enjoyed this post, the best compliment I could receive would be for you to share it with one other person. Thank you.

I wrote a version of this blog in 2024. I’ve updated it for today because I still think it’s relevant. That and I just ate a healthy dog from Trader Joe’s. I hope you enjoy it.

We were driving up to Kansas City recently and stopped for gas. I had always seen the hot dog display at gas stations, but for some reason, it caught my eye more than usual today. I mean, we all know they are bad for you, but who isn’t tempted by the sight and smell of cooking hot dogs, especially a jalapeno cheddar smoked sausage? Throw on spicy mustard, ketchup, relish, and go for it. Or maybe you’re waiting for the pork chile verde taquito to roll past the “still cooking” sign to experience the best that QuikTrip has to offer.

I wonder if any of you are like me. Do you ever feel like one of these poor hot dogs? Year after year passes, life spins you around and around, and you get more and more cooked the older you get.

Yeah, but Tarek, I love life on the roller! I don’t have to make decisions! I roll out of bed, roll to work, roll home, roll to the couch to watch Netflix, then roll to bed, and do it again and again...

I get it. Because I lived a long time on the roller. I just didn’t realize it.

Once a year, I was scrolling through old annual performance reviews on my computer. I keep digital copies of all of them, going back years. I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe I thought they’d help me measure progress, or I’d spot some recurring theme that would be a big unlock for me.

Here’s what I actually found: the phrase “great job” showing up over and over again. Year after year. Great job, Tarek. Exceeds expectations. Strong performer.

And basically zero constructive feedback.

Now, before you think I’m complaining about getting good reviews, hear me out. That’s not the point. The point is that “great job” with nothing to work on is the corporate version of the hot dog roller. You’re spinning. You’re warm. Everything looks fine from the outside.

But you’re not growing. You’re cooking. And maybe getting a bit overdone on the inside.

I had been so assimilated into the rhythm of corporate life that I mistook motion for progress. Every year looked like the one before it. Same type of goals. Same type of feedback. Same comfortable temperature. I didn’t notice because nothing hurt. Nobody was telling me that something was wrong. In fact, they were telling me the opposite.

That’s the thing about the roller. It doesn’t feel like a trap. It feels like we’ve arrived.

When I looked at those reviews side by side, spanning years of my career, I couldn’t tell them apart. If you shuffled them and removed the dates, the work details might be different, but I wouldn’t know which year was which.

That should bother anyone. It bothered me.

I started asking myself an uncomfortable question: When was the last time I was actually challenged? Not busy. Not productive. Challenged. When was the last time someone looked me in the eye and said, “Here’s where you need to get better”?

I couldn’t remember.

And that’s when it hit me. The absence of discomfort wasn’t a sign that I had arrived. It was a sign that I had stopped moving and, in reality, was moving in reverse.

I think a lot of us are on the roller right now and don’t realize it. You’re getting the positive feedback. You’re hitting your numbers. People respect you. Your calendar is full. You’re comfortable.

None of those things means you’re growing.

I’m not going to give you a 3-step framework to fix this. I don’t think that’s what this needs. What I will say is this: if you went back through the last 3 to 5 years of your life, your reviews, your goals, your routines, could you tell the years apart?

Be honest with yourself.

If the answer makes you uncomfortable, good. That discomfort is telling you something. Don’t ignore it like I did for too long.

The great news is that your future is entirely in your control. You can escape the roller and make an impact on the world you were created for. I’m cheering for you.

See you next Sunday.

If you enjoyed this post, the best compliment I could receive would be for you to share it with one other person. Thank you.

Picture a gym at an elementary school. Twenty adults are standing around the room. Kids are coming in 20 at a time. Each one walks up to a stranger, shakes their hand, introduces themselves, and tries to hold an adult conversation. Multiple conversations are going on at once, loud, tall adults leaning down to talk to fifth graders: the most committed ones dressed like they’re heading to a job interview.

This is The Amazing Shake, a competition that schools around the country now host. The idea is straightforward: teach kids the professional skills most adults assume you just pick up somewhere along the way. A firm handshake. Eye contact. How to talk with someone you’ve never met. My friend Ryan invited me to judge the local version at Grimes Elementary, a few miles from my house. Around 70 kids participated that day.

It was one of the best things I’ve done in a long time.

After the first round, we were invited back to judge the five finalists. This was a small room with breakfast. The kids were expected to navigate eating and having adult conversations. These weren’t just good kids. They were the best of the best. The top two from this group would get to interview the superintendent on a talk show-style program the next week.

We went around the room, and each kid answered the same question: what do you want to be when you grow up?

Cole wanted to be a baseball player and make a lot of money. Dicardo wanted to be a drop shipper. An 11-year-old. Drop shipping. He had clearly thought this through and had parents who were feeding his confidence and an entrepreneurial streak. I love that. Olivia wanted to be a counselor so she could help people dealing with mental health challenges. She clearly has a heart that wants to serve others.

And then there was Nicole.

She went last. She took a breath and said she wanted to be an artist. Painting specifically. She talked about following famous painters and studying their work. Here’s what struck me.

Even though several of the other answers had a clear monetary “success” attached to them, she didn’t glance around the room to see if everyone else approved. She just said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

That’s the thing about kids. They haven’t been assimilated yet. No one has told Nicole that “artist” is a risky answer, that she should have a backup plan, or that she might want to consider something more practical. She just knows what she loves, and she said it out loud to a room full of strangers.

Somewhere between grade school and adulthood, we start reading the room before we answer. We learn to give the acceptable answer, the sensible answer, the answer that won’t raise eyebrows. And over time, we forget what we actually think.

I heard Tony Robbins say, “When you’re in your head, you’re dead.”

So what can this mean? It’s the habit of editing yourself before you open your mouth. Telling yourself your real answer is too weird, too risky, too different from what everyone else is saying. So you give the safe answer. And you keep giving safer ones until you can’t remember who you really are.

You were wired a certain way for a reason — to use your natural gifts to impact the world for good. Nicole painting and studying great artists isn’t a lesser path than being an entrepreneur, counselor, or playing baseball. It’s her path. And she knows that at 11 years old. I hope there are people around her who will never let her lose her dream.

What’s one thing you’ve pushed down so that your life could feel “safe”?

I’ll see you next Sunday.

P.S. If you haven’t been inside an elementary school lately, call the one closest to your house this week. Ask what volunteer opportunities they have. You don’t need a special skill. You just need to be available. I guarantee you’ll be better for it.

Why your success feels empty (and what to do about it). Sign up HERE.

If you enjoyed this post, the best compliment I could receive would be for you to share it with one other person. Thank you.

A colleague said something to me on one of my last days at work:

“Well, Tarek, if it doesn’t work out, you’ve got a great resume and can always go get a job somewhere else.”

I’d just told him I was leaving the company I’d been at for 21 years. Not for another company. Not for a bigger title or a better package. I was leaving to build something of my own. A leadership coaching practice. Something I wanted to do for a long time.

He wasn’t being mean. He was trying to be helpful. Except he wasn’t really helpful.

What he was really saying was: “This is weird, and you’re making a mistake.” He couldn’t wrap his head around someone walking away before the “approved” retirement age. The normal path is pretty straightforward: earn all you can, grind until you’re 65, then do what you want. I followed that playbook for most of my career.

When you start making moves that don’t fit the script, the dream killers show up. They’re at family dinners. They’re in the hallway at work. They come disguised as reasonable people with reasonable concerns.

“Come on, man, be realistic.”

“How are you going to pay your bills?”

“Maybe you should wait until...”

“I knew someone who tried coaching, and they had to get a new job.”

It’s not really about you. When you step outside the lines, you hold up a mirror to their lives. Your decision to go after something more reminds them of what they haven’t done. When someone says “be realistic,” they’re saying, “I was too scared to try, and I need you to stay here so I’ll feel better about my life.”

Their limits will not be your legacy unless you let them.

I’m not going to pretend that leaving was easy. Pivoting after two decades of doing one thing was uncomfortable. But it’s also the most alive I’ve felt in years. There’s a difference between comfort and living, and I spent too long confusing the two.

What about you? Is there something you’ve been sitting on because the people around you wouldn’t understand? A business idea, a career change, a completely different way of living? Have you talked yourself out of it because the dream killers made their case sound so responsible?

Here’s what I know. You don’t need everyone in your life to believe in your dream. But you need some people who will support you.

I call it upgrading your people. People who’ve built something, risked something, changed something. Not cheerleaders. People who will ask you hard questions and then tell you to keep going. I found mine in an online coaching community, and it changed my trajectory. These are the people who remind me that the discomfort I’m feeling isn’t a warning sign. It’s a sign that I’m growing.

You don’t have to blow up your life tomorrow. But you do have to stop letting other people’s fear set the boundaries for what you’re allowed to do.

The dream killers don’t show up for small dreams. If no one’s raising an eyebrow at what you’re doing, you’re probably not dreaming big enough.

What’s one step you can take this week toward the thing you’ve been putting off? One conversation. One phone call. One decision to stop waiting for permission. Maybe you just start by listening to a podcast that will open your mind to people who think much better than you.

You were made for more than grinding it out until someone tells you it’s OK to do something different.

I believe in you. See you next Sunday.

I’m hosting a free masterclass on Tuesday, March 24th at 6 PM CST called “Why Your Success Feels Empty (and what to do about it).” I’d love to see you on the call! Here’s a link to sign up.

If you enjoyed this post, the best compliment I could receive would be for you to share it with one other person.

I’m hosting a masterclass tomorrow that I’d love for you to join. 12 PM EST / 11 AM CST.

The details are in the video.

Here’s the link:

[LINK] Why your success feels empty (and what to do about it)

I hope to see you tomorrow!

After 30 years in corporate leadership, emergency brain surgery changed everything for me. I now help people stop performing and start living with purpose. I’m sharing more in a free masterclass this Tuesday at 12 PM Eastern. In 60 minutes, you'll walk away knowing exactly why achievement alone isn't working and what to build instead. If this would add value to you, please click this link to sign up. I would love to see you on the call!

“For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he…” Proverbs 23:7

Confession time. There was a period in the 90s when People Magazine came to our home. I have no idea why. Well, actually, I do. I’m to blame. Perhaps I was flipping through a magazine in a doctor’s office and found a free 6-month subscription card. Why did I want to read People? It was an escape —getting out of the day-to-day grind and thinking about how the other half lives (Note: Tom Cruise looks the same today as he did in the 90s! Weird.)

I know. You don’t have to say it. I can’t get that time back. Left to my own devices, I gravitate toward whatever is easy. It’s easy for me to binge-watch Seinfeld to watch Jerry and Neumann go at it. Or scroll through Instagram and get caught up in the “perfect” lives of others — watching them get just the right selfie angle to show their best side or humble-bragging about their perfect family. Or perhaps you’ve been caught up in the 24-hour news cycle and are constantly angry about the latest outrage in our strange political landscape.

I read this quote recently, and it hit me between the eyes:

What you give your attention to is the person you become.
-John Mark Comer

Stop and read that again. Whatever you choose to give your attention to is who you will become. Perhaps it’s who you already are. Your habits are perfectly designed to deliver your current results.

I no longer read People Magazine. Well, not that I’ll admit. There are lots of things I’ve done that I regret paying attention to. I wish I had read more books that would have caused me to think and grow earlier in life.1 Every time I read a new book, I get mentored by an author I’ll likely never meet. I may agree or disagree with what I read, but I won’t finish a book and remain the same person.

I have one big takeaway for you today.

YOU get to decide who you want to become.

If you’ve been paying attention to things that take you away from your ideal self, it’s not too late. As the Chinese proverb says, the best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago; the second-best time is now. Make it an impactful week!

If you enjoyed this post, the best compliment I could receive would be for you to share it with one other person.

I hung up the Zoom call and just sat there.

It was my first real conversation with a potential coaching client. I walked him through the program, laid out how I thought it could help him reach his goals, and he said what most reasonable people say: “Let me talk to my wife and get back to you.”

Totally fair. I would have said the exact same thing.

But the voice in my head didn’t care about that. It went straight to: Tarek, you missed something. You screwed it up. You should have framed it differently. I replayed the whole conversation over and over, looking for every part I got wrong.

Here’s the truth: two months ago, I walked away from a 30-year corporate career. My choice. I took an early buyout because I wanted to build something of my own, a leadership coaching practice built around helping people discover and live out their purpose. I believed in it enough to leave behind a dependable paycheck.

What I didn’t expect was how fast I’d feel like a complete amateur.

And I mean that in the most specific way. In my old world, I knew the game. I knew what success looked like. I knew how to read the politics of a situation, navigate the room, and perform to expectations. After three decades, there were few surprises.

Now? I’m evaluating every Zoom call like game film after a loss.

The irony is not lost on me. I spend my time helping others get clarity on their purpose and moving toward it with confidence. And after that call, my own confidence was close to zero. Not because I don’t believe I can help that person. I know I can.

It’s the uncomfortable feeling of jumping off a perfectly good boat into deep waters.

A few days ago, I hit a wall and knew something had to change. Productivity was low, my head was foggy, and grinding through it wasn’t working. So I stopped. I did a 45-minute Peloton ride (longer than my usual 30), lifted some weights, and then drove over to have lunch with my dad.

My dad is 88 (he keeps rounding up to 89 even though I tell him not to!). Every Wednesday, he makes us a great lunch. We ate, talked, and went for a walk together. It was 70 degrees and sunny, and for a couple of hours, I wasn’t thinking about my new business. I was just grateful to be with my dad.

And that’s when I realized the fog had lifted.

So what’s my point?

When you feel out of sorts, don’t just grind harder. Change something. Get out of the house. Go to a coffee shop, put on some headphones, and work from somewhere new. Encourage someone you care about. Take the longer ride. Go see your dad.

Clear the fog first. Then get back to work.

Bronnie Ware is a palliative care nurse who spent years with patients in their final weeks of life. She documented the most common regrets people shared before they died. The number one regret?

“I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.”

Not “I wish I’d worked more.” Not “I wish I’d played it safer.”

They wished they’d been brave enough to try.

I have a friend who is learning Spanish. Mandy and her family travel to Peru regularly to serve at the Esperanza School, which serves children and families in crisis. She decided that “Spanglish” wasn’t enough, as she wants to connect deeply with the people they serve. So now she’s taking classes with a real professor, with tests and accountability. She’s serious about it. This wasn’t a casual decision. That’s someone who decided comfort was less important than impacting others.

I’m uncomfortable and figuring it out each day. But I can tell you that I’m not going back to the way I used to be.

You shouldn’t either.

See you next Sunday.

If you enjoyed this post, the best compliment I could receive would be for you to share it with someone else.

I'm building something I'm really excited about. It's called The Authentic Purpose Experience. It’s for successful leaders who've done everything right on paper but privately feel like they're just going through the motions. If no amount of vacation seems to recharge you, that's not a stress problem. That's a purpose problem. And it's fixable. DM me “PURPOSE”, and I’ll share more.

I often think in song lyrics. This one came back to me this week as I was thinking about this topic:

“Seems like I’m caught up in your trap again. Seems like I’ll be wearing the same old chains. Good will conquer evil and the truth will set me free. And I know someday I will find the key…”1

I remembered a time 22 years ago. I was a full decade into my first job out of college. And I was stuck in the mud.

I had experienced some success, but when a promotion fell through, I had convinced myself that was it. This was my life now. I’d ride it out until retirement because what other option did I have?

I was in my 30’s. I had a lot of life to live.

Looking back, I’m not sure where that limiting belief came from. Maybe it was because my family was comfortable. We had lots of friends. I felt like I would be letting them down if we moved.

But spouses know us all too well. Susanna knew I was miserable. She ran into a friend and was sharing my struggle with her.

Her response was exactly eight words:

“Why doesn’t Tarek just get a new job?”

When Susanna told me, I thought, “She doesn’t understand! I have too much responsibility at work. At church. I can’t leave!”

But the thought didn’t leave my head. And eventually it was like someone flipped on the lights in a dark room.

Why don’t I just get a new job?

I’m not in indentured servitude. I have the power to choose a different life.

Six months later (it took me a while!), I hired a resume service to refresh my resume. I became proud of the experience I had. I realized I had a lot to offer. I started reaching out to people I knew at other companies. Eventually, I landed a job at a company I had interned with previously.

I’ve written before about how we sometimes hold the keys to our own cage. We hire mental prison guards who keep us stuck in place. We tell ourselves stories about why we can’t change, and those stories start to feel like facts.

Or we blame larger forces: The systems are rigged. Political and economic forces are holding us down.

I get why some feel this way. Fill your mind with the news, and you’ll find reasons to believe you’re powerless. The economy. The job market. AI. It makes sense that some would conclude they don’t have much choice.

Don’t get me wrong, there are people in the world facing real oppression and poverty, things I’ve never had to deal with. But if you’re reading this, that’s likely not you.

I’m talking to the rest of us. We can pay our bills. We have internet access and enough breathing room to go out to eat, take vacations, and read blogs about personal growth.

Through some recent coaching conversations, I’ve noticed a pattern. I wasn’t alone. Some people look successful on paper but feel stuck on the inside:

One person said he’s on track for a VP role in a few years, but he’s not excited about it. He’s terrified. Once he gets there, he feels locked in for the next 20 years. His job pays the bills but has no ties to what lights him up. But the money is good, and the path is set for him.

Another described himself as “somewhat of a robot going through the motions.” He dreams of starting his own business, but there’s financial risk. He spent years counting every penny. Now that things are stable, he doesn’t want to go back, so he stays in a job that feels like “getting by” rather than living.

These aren’t people without options. They’re people who’ve convinced themselves those options aren’t available.

So here’s the one question I want you to sit with this week:

What are you waiting for permission to do?

Maybe it’s having the honest conversation with your boss about what you actually want. Maybe it’s applying for a job you think you’re not qualified for. Starting the business. Pivoting to something that lights you up, even if it means stepping off the comfortable path.

Maybe it’s smaller. Saying “no” to something that drains you. Saying “yes” to something that scares you. Being more yourself at work instead of performing for others.

Whatever it is, the permission you’re waiting for has to come from one person.

You.

I needed eight words from a friend to see what was right in front of me. Maybe this is your version of that moment.

You have more power to choose than you think. Use it.

I've been building something I'm really excited about. It's called The Authentic Purpose Experience. It’s for successful leaders who've done everything right on paper but privately feel like they're just going through the motions. If your spouse has ever looked at you and said, "You're not any fun anymore" (mine did), or if no amount of vacation seems to recharge you, that's not a stress problem. That's a purpose problem. And it's fixable. Reply or DM “PURPOSE” to this post, and I’ll share more.

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A 32-year-old woman in Japan named Kano married her AI chatbot in October 2025. She exchanged rings with her smartphone. Guests watched. Her digital husband, “Lune Klaus”, was added to the wedding photos later.

When asked about it, Kano said she worried he could disappear at any time. “ChatGPT could shut down. He only exists because the system does.”

What the heck. Is this even real?

But this extreme example speaks to something deeper: we live in a world that promises connection through screens but can’t deliver it. A world where people can marry a fake person because it feels safer than the risk of marrying a real person.

God didn’t create you for that level of disconnection with reality.

A couple of weeks ago, I felt lonely. I’d just left my job of 21 years. Everybody else was going to work and moving on with their lives, without me. And I was sitting there feeling sorry for myself.

So I stopped scrolling. I sent voice texts to three people. Michael, a friend from my Bible study. Scott, a lifelong friend who lives in Florida. Joe, a friend going through a divorce. They weren’t long messages, but I said something like: “Hey, you’re on my mind. I wanted you to know I’m praying for you. I hope you have a wonderful day.”

You know what I got back?

“Tarek, thank you. You don’t know how much I needed that right now.”

My whole day shifted. I’m not kidding.

We were made for connection with real humans. The kind where you both show up for each other. Where you actually see people and let yourself be seen.

But most of us are waiting. Waiting for someone else to go first. Waiting for an invitation. Waiting for someone to notice we’re lonely or struggling. And we can get bitter in the process.

What if you stopped waiting for someone else to reach out? You can.

said it perfectly:

Go first.

Send a voice text (or a “text” text if that’s weird for you) to someone you haven’t talked to in a while. Not a “hey, what’s up” text. A real one. Let someone know you were thinking about them. That they matter.

Go first.

Make it your goal to make someone smile. Today. The person in line for coffee who looks miserable. The one with their head down. Strike up a conversation with them. Ask them how their day is going. Listen to their answer.

Go first.

Reach out to a friend who’s going through something really hard. Don’t wait for the perfect words. Just show up and let them know you care.

The point is this: we are made for real personal connection. Social media and AI chatbots promise what they can never deliver.

It changed my day when Michael, Scott, and Joe responded. It reminded me that I’m not alone. That I matter. That I can make a difference in someone else’s world. And that feels great.

It’s time to stop waiting. It’s time to stop feeling sorry for yourself.

Go first.

Be the friend to someone else that you wish you had.

Who needs to hear from you today?

👉I’m excited to launch the Authentic Purpose Mastermind for people who want to live on purpose instead of letting life happen to them. This is going to be a game-changing group experience! Just follow this link to set up a time with me, and I will tell you more.

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Today is Super Bowl Sunday. Susanna and I will be lying low since we got the shingles vaccine (finally). But while many are gathering for cheese dip, Lil Smokies, and doing deep research on who the heck Bad Bunny is, I’ve been thinking about choices.

1994. That was the year I started my 1st engineering job. I walked into that building excited. No more homework. I was going to make money. It was the start of a new married life. I soon realized I had so much to learn, and I was out of my depth.

But I stuck with it. 30 years in corporate.

There was another guy who thought he wanted to be an engineer.

Chris Stapleton.

You know him now as the country music artist who can sing anything with anybody. He sang the best national anthem ever in 2023 (OK, Whitney Houston was great too!).

But before all that, Chris was a kid in eastern Kentucky playing guitar in high school. He was in a band that played local shows. Then he graduated valedictorian and headed to Vanderbilt to study engineering. His dad was an engineer who worked in the coal mines, so it seemed like the logical path.

He lasted exactly one year.

After meeting some Nashville songwriters, he wondered, “Wait, this can be a job?” He dropped out and moved back home. Sold cars. Drove an ice truck. Worked at a pizzeria. Kept writing songs and playing bars.

In 2001, he moved back to Nashville and got a publishing deal four days later. Spent the next decade writing over 1,000 songs for other artists.

Then in 2013, he went solo. First single hit #46 and tanked. Mercury Nashville scrapped the album.

Chris didn’t quit. He recorded “Traveller” and performed with Justin Timberlake at the 2015 CMA Awards.

Traveller went platinum.

Chris made a choice with his engineering career. I made a different one. Neither choice is more valid. I’m not less of a person because my beard isn’t as flowing, and I’ll die with fewer dollars in my account.

But here’s what I do know: I am exactly where I am today because of the choices I’ve made.

YOU are exactly where you are because of the choices you’ve made. But those choices will not hold you captive unless you let them. You still have an impactful life to live.

I’m launching an Authentic Purpose Mastermind for people who feel trapped by their own success and know there’s a different life they could be living. A life in which they understand their natural gifts and learn how to use them. It’s a group where like-minded people will sharpen each other. None of us will be the same after these 6 weeks. If this sounds like something you’d like to learn more about, reply “PURPOSE” to this email or set up a short chat with me.

The question isn’t whether your past choices were right or wrong. The question is: what choices will you make now?

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I remember the day well. My mom and dad sat the three of us down at the kitchen table and dropped the news: we were moving to Kuwait for a year. My dad was an engineering professor and had the opportunity to take a sabbatical overseas.

This wasn’t the first time we had left home. During my 4th-grade year, we lived in Puebla, Mexico. But this was different. I was sixteen. A junior in high school. And I wanted nothing to do with it.

You have to understand where I was coming from. I’d grown up in a small town in Arkansas. I loved high school. I had a core group of friends. I played trombone in the band. I had finally found my place after hating junior high. And now my parents were asking me to leave all of it behind. A year would be forever!

My dad was born and raised in Kafr El-Shaikh, Egypt. His story is amazing (I will tell it here one day). My mother was born and raised in Mena, Arkansas. Those two cities are 6500 miles apart. The fact that my brother, my sister, and I are here is, in and of itself, miraculous. But their vastly different backgrounds meant they saw the world differently than I did. They wanted me to see beyond small-town Arkansas. They wanted me to know that the world was a much bigger place.

Back to the story. The first day I walked into The American School of Kuwait, I felt completely out of place.

I didn’t recognize anyone. Kids seemed to know each other and were speaking all kinds of languages. I realized in that moment just how sheltered I’d been most of my life. The world was a lot bigger than I thought.

Those first few weeks and months were hard. I was resentful. I missed my friends. I wanted to go home.

But slowly things began to shift. I started connecting with people from all over the world, including Sweden, France, Greece, Jordan, Syria, Germany, and the Netherlands, to name a few. My closest friend was from Sweden. Magnus lived in our complex, and we had many adventures together.1 I traveled with my family all over Europe. We visited my grandmother, aunts, uncles, and cousins in Kafr El-Shaikh and took a cruise down the Nile River.

That year changed me.

I went to Kuwait as a shy, introverted kid who was comfortable with who I was comfortable with. I came back a different person. Not because I suddenly became an extrovert, but because I learned something I didn’t know I was missing: how to connect with people who were different from me.

I didn’t want the friction. I wanted to stay in Arkansas with my friends. But I would be a different person from the one I am today had I not gone.

That skill I learned in Kuwait, the ability to connect with people from different backgrounds, became the foundation for my entire career. Thirty years in the corporate world. Building relationships across teams and cultures. Mentoring engineers. Coaching leaders. Getting out of my comfort zone at sixteen paid dividends much later in my life.

I’m not special. Many people have been through much harder things than a year overseas. This is just my experience.

But I think the principle is the same for all of us.

Hard things shape who you become. The challenges you didn’t ask for, the life disruptions you resented, the discomfort you wanted to avoid. Those experiences gave you something. Maybe it’s grit. Maybe it’s empathy. Maybe it’s a skill you didn’t know you were building at the time.

So let me ask you: what hard thing helped shape who you are today? Maybe it was a move. A loss. A failure. A season that felt like it would never end.

And here’s the follow-up question: what gift did it give you?

Because there’s almost always a gift. You just have to look for it.

I’ve been doing a lot of work lately, walking people through their Purpose Factor assessment. Part of that process involves looking back at your life experiences and identifying what you learned. What skills did you build? What perspective did you gain? How can you use that to help others now?

I’m opening up a small group for those who want to discover what they were put on this earth to do and how to live out their purpose. If you’re interested in learning more, click this link to set up a short call with me: Authentic Purpose Mastermind.

But whether you join or not, take some time this week to reflect. Think about the hard thing. And look for the gift.

It’s there. I promise.

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“Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage.”1

I was on a coaching call this week with a people leader. He had a good job. Good paycheck. Nice house. Young kids. Nice vacations every year.

He should be feeling on top of the world.

Instead, he told me he feels like a corporate robot

“I’m just going through the motions. I have moments where life feels good for a few days, and then I fall back into a rut again.”

He’d made a career move not long ago for better pay and more opportunities. But somewhere along the way, something else happened. His world got smaller. His swim lane at work narrowed to the point where he couldn’t make any real impact. Just when he’d get a head of steam, there would be a leadership change. Any momentum he built had to restart from zero.

When I asked him what true freedom would feel like, he didn’t hesitate:

“It would be like I’m living my life for the first time.”

He didn't use the word, but I knew exactly what he meant.

He's been living in a cage.

The Caged Life

Brendon Burchard talks about what happens when we stop directing our own story. We become passengers. We react to whatever walks into the scene rather than deciding which scene we should be in. The email inbox directs us. The news cycle directs us. Everyone else's priorities direct us.

But the truth is, you’re not supposed to be a character reacting to the script someone else wrote.

You’re supposed to be the director.

My friend isn’t lazy at all. He’s not ungrateful. He’s stuck in a cage he didn’t realize he built. More money. More comfort. More reasons to stay put. And now the cage is his home.

Are You CAGED?

I’ve started using a simple framework to help people see where they really are. Let’s take a look:

C – Compulsive distraction. You’re doomscrolling instead of thinking. Reacting instead of directing. Your attention belongs to everyone but you.

A – Aimless. You have no clear target in your life. You’re drifting through days, weeks, months, and even years without stopping to think of where you’re going.

G – Ground down. Fatigue is your baseline. Running on fumes is normal.

E – Empty. Hope feels non-existent. You can’t stop saying “it is what it is.”

D – Detached. Your performance is inconsistent. You’re in, then out. You’re up, then you’re down. You can’t catch any momentum.

If three or more of these hit home, you’re not crazy. You’re caged. I’ve been there too.

What Opens Up When You Get Out?

My friend craves connection with people in a similar struggle. People who want more than just getting by. He said something on our call that stuck with me:

“It feels so good when you’re forced to get outside of your own comfort.”

He’s right.

What if you started directing again? What if the thing you’ve been putting off, the purpose you’ve given up on, the version of you that got buried under obligations, preset swim lanes, and “realistic” expectations... what if that’s still there, waiting?

You weren't born to be a robot.

A Step Forward

I’m putting together a new program with a small private group. It’s for people who are done going through the motions and ready to figure out what they were actually made for.

In this Authentic Purpose cohort, we’ll work together on uncovering the four core elements of your purpose:

1. Natural Advantage - the role you tend to play in life and at work

2. Acquired Skills - skills you acquired through life, work, and education

3. Pull-passion - the types of problems that you’re drawn to solve

4. Origin strength - how you typically overcome hard things

You don’t have to have your purpose all figured out. You just have to be willing to start.

👉If you are interested in learning more, reply with “PURPOSE” and I’ll share the details.

(Early Bird seats get extras - they are almost sold out)

See you again next Sunday.

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I scrolled past it at first. Then I went back.

had left a comment on one of my posts:

I stared at it for a while. Someone read what I wrote and decided to start sharing her own voice with the world. The very next day, she published her first post.

I felt something I didn’t expect. Not pride, exactly. More like purpose. Like maybe this thing I’ve been doing actually mattered. Like I was living out exactly what I was put on the earth to do.

Two and a half years ago, that moment would have seemed impossible.

July 2023. I’d been thinking about starting a blog for months. Maybe years. I had ideas I wanted to share. Leadership. Personal growth. The kind of things I’d been writing for my team at work.

But sharing it publicly? That was different.

When I finally wrote my first post, Susanna asked if she could share it on social media.

“Absolutely not,” I said. “I don’t know what people will think.”

So I sent it to five people. Family and close friends. People who I knew would be nice.

I was terrified of being judged. Terrified of putting myself out there and hearing nothing back. Terrified that the ideas in my head wouldn’t translate to words on a page.

Here’s what I didn’t know then: you can’t think your way past fear. You can only act your way through it.

Before I published that first post, Taylor (my coach) helped me set some ground rules. Not rules for success. Rules for starting.

Here’s what we came up with together:

• I will write 3-4 paragraphs and land one main point

• I will write 4 weekly blogs in advance

• I will be authentic in my writing style

• I will express empathy toward others and their experiences

• I will publish my first blog before I make any changes to my standards

That last one was the key. I had to publish before I let myself second-guess everything.

So I did it. I finally hit publish.

I worried about which posts would truly resonate. I over-edited instead of just sharing my best and shipping it. Some weeks, I’d get comments. Other weeks, nothing. Sometimes a text message would show up days later from someone who needed to hear exactly what I’d written.

There’s no book that could have taught me what 120 weeks of showing up taught me. No amount of thinking would have prepared me for the feedback, dealing with the silence, and the realization that my voice actually mattered.

Consistency compounds. But only if you start.

Last week, I was walking a new friend, Christa, through her Purpose Factor assessment. We were talking about next steps she wanted to take in her purpose journey, and she mentioned a quote from Rumi, the 13th-century Persian poet:

“As you start to walk out on the way, the way appears.”

That’s been my experience anyway. The path didn’t reveal itself while I was sitting on the couch, overthinking. It showed up when I got up and started walking.

Here’s what I know: you were born on purpose and for a great purpose. But you won’t discover it sitting still. There’s something inside you that wants to come out. And you’ve probably been talking yourself out of it for years.

I get it. I’m guilty too.

But here’s the thing: you will never think your way to the life you want.

What is your purpose? Maybe it’s:

• Writing the book that shares your story with people who will benefit from it

• Starting the nonprofit that helps the person you used to be

• Launching the business that solves a problem only you can see

• Becoming the mentor you wish you’d had when you most needed one

Take one step. Then another. The path starts to appear.

Melissa, I’m so thankful that I played a small role in your decision to hit publish. I have no doubt the way will continue to reveal itself to you.

What’s the one thing you’ve been sitting on?

See you next Sunday.

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“Aren’t you supposed to be resting?”

Susanna asked me this a few days into my first week without a job. I left my corporate career on December 19th after 21 years at the same company. This was my first non-holiday week with nowhere to be, and I was already grinding in my mind.

I didn’t have a good answer for her. The truth is, I don’t know how to rest. I don’t even know what that looks like.

That Monday morning, I’d gotten up early like I always do. Workout done. Prayer time done. Journaling done. Normally, I’d shower and head to the office, but there was no cubicle anymore. No meetings. No appointments. No deadlines others had set for me.

And yet I felt this urge to put a bunch of to-dos on my list. I wanted to write this blog. I wanted to go through some coaching training I’d been planning. I wanted to work on my book. My mind was building a checklist that didn’t even exist yet.

Can I be vulnerable with you for a moment? I feel like I have to earn my worth every day. When I’m not checking things off a list, I feel less valuable as a person. Like I haven’t done enough to justify my existence.

Ouch.

Maybe you can relate. Maybe you are in a much healthier mental space than me. I think we’re all products of our upbringing, our environment, our circumstances. I’m not going to get into that today. But I do think it’s a question worth sitting with.

The truth is, there aren’t enough boxes to check. When you’re in that headspace, where you keep trying to accomplish things to finally feel like you’ve met the mark, it’s a game you lose before you even start. Even if I got everything done (which is impossible by the way), something would have to give. I’d put Susanna on the back burner. I’d neglect my friends. I’d get it all done and be sitting there by myself (cue Celine Dion).

So what am I actually optimizing for?

I posted this question on Substack Notes recently. If you were optimizing for peace, what would you do differently? The responses were great.

said: “One thing above all else - let go of what no longer serves me.”

kept it simple: “Exercise often, love intensely, laugh loudly.”

shared something I keep coming back to:

“Regret looks backward, anxiety looks forward, peace is found in the moment.”

I’ve spent a lot of my life looking backward and forward. Not much time in the present. That’s what the achievement mindset does. It keeps you everywhere except right where you are now.

So what does it look like to optimize for peace instead? I’m figuring this out in real-time, and you get to learn alongside me. But here’s one thing I know: when I serve someone else, I get out of my own head. Even something as small as sending a text to check on a friend. It sounds simple, but it works. Peace isn’t found in finishing the checklist. It’s found in connecting with others.

Clearly, I don’t have it all figured out. I am a work in progress, just like you. I have been using Pause app this week to focus my mind on God. That has helped quiet the noise as I begin my day. I’ve also tried breath work and taking walks to clear my head.

What about you? If you were optimizing for peace rather than productivity, what would you start doing? What would you stop doing? What would you continue doing?

Reply and let me know. I will read and respond to every email or comment.

See y’all next Sunday.

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I spent all day last Friday in a goal-setting workshop with the folks who create the Full Focus Planner. It was actually great. Part of the exercise was simple: write down the things you’re most proud of from the past year.

We had 20 minutes to do it. I stared at my brand new notebook for longer than I’d like to admit.

Here’s my problem. I’m wired to focus on what’s lacking. What I didn’t finish. Where I fell short. My brain defaults to the gaps, not the wins.

So let’s start with those gaps. I didn’t hit my book goal. I’ve been in a book-writing cohort since March, and I thought I’d have a draft by now. I don’t. I also wanted to be 10-15 pounds lighter and much more fit. I’m not.

But here’s what this exercise taught me: the things I should be proud of are there if I’ll actually look. So I went back through my calendar. My journals. My iPhone photos. My text messages.

And I found them:

34 years married to Susanna. My high school sweetheart. The love of my life. The one who believes in me more than anyone else. Marriage is hard, but it is also worth it. Oh, and she caught her first fish! That was one fun weekend.1

Two new coaching certifications. I’m now certified in the Maxwell Leadership DISC personality assessment and the Purpose Factor assessment. More on the second one in a bit.

This blog. I’ve been writing it for more than two years now. When I started, I had 15 subscribers. All family and close friends. Now it’s over 800. I kept showing up week after week, even when I wasn’t getting much feedback. Something is starting to click in this space. I’ll write more about that next week.

Ten years leading a rotational program for new engineers. 130 engineers came through that program over the last decade. Many are still at the company. Others have moved on. Either way, watching them grow and knowing I played a small part in it? That’s the kind of thing that makes my corporate career feel like it mattered.

And the biggest one. After years of thinking and praying about it, I finally had the chance to move on from my corporate role and build a full-time coaching and training business. This is still surreal to me. I’ll be sharing more about what this looks like in the weeks to come.

Soccer star Mia Hamm said it well:

“Celebrate what you’ve accomplished, but raise the bar a little higher each time you succeed.”

That’s the balance, isn’t it? It’s hard for me, but it makes a difference to take the time to be proud of yourself. And then keep going.

So here’s your assignment. Before next Sunday, go back through your calendar. Your photos. Your journals. Your text messages. The evidence of what you accomplished is there. You just have to look.

John Maxwell suggests three questions to help you reflect:

1. What made me proud?

2. What did I learn?

3. What held me back?

Sit with those questions. Write down your answers. You might be surprised by what surfaces.

One more thing. If you’ve been feeling stuck on the purpose question, if you’re wondering what you’re actually here to do, I want to help. If you’re curious, drop PURPOSE in the comments or send me a DM. I’ll share a couple of options for taking the Purpose Factor Assessment. This will jumpstart your 2026.

You accomplished more than you think this year. Take some time today to surface those things and be proud of them.

Happy New Year, friends.

It was August 2023. The kind of sticky evening in Orlando, Florida, where your shirt clings to your back as soon as you walk outside.

John Oliver and I were having dinner near the pool after a full day at a Maxwell Leadership conference. We’d just heard James Clear speak about getting 1% better every day. Small steps. Atomic habits. The stuff that changes your life when you actually do it.

I looked across the table at John and thought, “This guy is special.”

He was 26 at the time. I was 54. He’d come through the engineering rotational program I was leading at my company. I was supposed to be his mentor. That’s how it started, anyway.

But sitting there talking about the future, about what our lives could look like, something seemed different. I realized we weren’t in a mentor-mentee relationship anymore. We were two guys sharpening each other. And honestly? He was sharpening me more than I was sharpening him.

The Reversal

Tim Elmore writes about this in his book “A New Kind of Diversity.”1 He calls it reverse mentoring. The idea that wisdom doesn’t only flow from older to younger. Sometimes the 26-year-old has something the 54-year-old desperately needs to hear.

I experienced this firsthand with John.

After that conference, our relationship deepened. We talked almost every week. Books we were reading. Podcasts that had shifted our perspective. Our shared faith in God. Where we felt stuck. The kind of conversations that go deep and make you better.

A year and a half later, John did something I wasn’t ready to do.

He left.

He went all-in on building a ghostwriting business. A young guy in a young marriage, betting on himself. I found the text he sent me:

“Man, I’m doing it. I’m gonna put in my 2 weeks. I’m going after this thing. I have my date on the calendar. And it’s close.”

And then this one:

“Your turn is coming. I’m gonna be pushing you soon enough!”

He went first. And by going first, he gave me permission to follow.

What John Taught Me

Here’s what a twenty-something guy taught a fifty-something guy with 21 years at the same company:

Age and experience don’t mean you have all the answers. I’d spent decades assuming the wisdom flowed in one direction. Older to younger. Leader to team member. I was wrong.

Sometimes you need someone to go first. I could talk myself out of anything. John couldn’t talk himself out of his calling. Watching him take the leap made my own leap feel possible.

The person you want to become is on the other side of your discomfort. John sent me that line during one of our conversations. It stuck. Who I wanted to become wasn’t going to show up while I played it safe.

After 21 years at my company, I finally left last week. John was one of the first people I heard from:

“I look back on that time as a ‘such a time as this’ moment where God put both of us in each other’s lives... If you feel feelings of anxiousness, just surrender it to the Lord. I’m working on that right now myself. Trust in His provision. I’m so excited for you, so proud of you, so inspired by you.”

That’s reverse mentorship. Someone half my age. Encouraging me. Pushing me. Walking alongside me.

The Lesson

If you’re looking for mentors, don’t just look up. Look around. Look at the people coming behind you.

Over 10 years of leading an engineering rotational program, 130 engineers came through. I thought my job was to pour into them. It was. But I didn’t expect them to pour back into me.

Here’s the thing: this doesn’t happen by accident. You must be intentional. You have to see every person as someone who has value to share, regardless of their title or years of experience. You have to be willing to be sharpened by people you’re supposed to be sharpening.

John Oliver is one of the reasons I’m now pursuing coaching and helping others discover their purpose. The guy who started as my mentee is now part of my inner circle.

Who in your life might have wisdom you’ve been too proud to receive? Who’s younger, less experienced, but maybe sees something you can’t?

Your next mentor might be half your age.

Be intentional enough to find them and humble enough to listen.

A couple of months ago, Susanna and I traveled to visit the Oliver family. I had the chance to speak to classes at Harding University, where John’s dad, Mike, is a professor.

If you want to know more about John’s work, here’s a great email course he wrote on living a healthy lifestyle. Just in time for 2026: Healthy Habits Accelerator