The myth of ready shows up when capable, experienced people delay meaningful work in the name of preparation. I see it often in coaching—and I’ve wrestled with it myself. What looks like careful planning can quietly become a way of postponing action. Readiness isn’t something we arrive at through more research or credentials. It’s something we build by stepping forward, imperfectly, and allowing momentum to grow one small move at a time.

Discouragement, anger, and grief are surfacing for many of us as uncertainty intensifies at work and beyond. This piece is an invitation to pause—not to push harder or brace for impact, but to reconnect with where our strength comes from. Drawing on origin stories and the metaphor of steel forged under pressure, it explores how resilience is built through focus, perspective, and intentional action—especially in moments that test us most.

If you’re a big thinker who sets bold, expansive goals, you already know the power—and the cost—of aiming high. When the mark is missed, self-doubt can creep in and momentum can stall. This article offers a recalibration: stepping out of all-or-nothing striving and into the quiet power of incremental action. In uncertain times, small, intentional steps build agency, restore momentum, and create real impact—right where you are.

If you feel stuck, unclear, or desperate for change—more growth, more ease, more stability—career clarity isn’t optional. It’s essential. I know this firsthand. After earning my PhD, I was highly qualified and deeply uncertain about what I actually wanted next. What I learned is this: clarity doesn’t come from pushing harder or staying in constant motion. It comes from pausing, quieting the spin, and intentionally shaping a vision that restores confidence, attracts the right opportunities, and brings real fulfillment.

After the January fires, Los Angeles feels clearer—but many of us are changed. In moments of urgency, we’re forced to confront what truly matters, separating what’s essential from what’s meaningful in quieter, deeper ways. This reflection explores the objects, relationships, and creative pursuits we leave behind—not because they’ve lost value, but because life carried us forward. Some gifts, it turns out, may be worth revisiting before we move on again.

You’ve done everything right—earned the credentials, built credibility, and created meaningful impact. Yet despite outward success, clarity feels elusive and the next step uncertain. For many educators, nonprofit leaders, and researchers, this moment can feel heavy and disorienting. Career clarity doesn’t come from overthinking or waiting for a perfect answer—it’s something you actively build. With the right focus, energy, and small, intentional actions, new possibilities can begin to emerge.

Current events, workplace tension, and charged family dynamics have left many leaders depleted before conversations even begin. Drawing from a recent talk I gave at Pepperdine University’s Davenport Institute, I explore how to hold your ground without escalating conflict or draining already limited cognitive energy—by choosing engagement intentionally and setting boundaries that protect focus, effectiveness, and well-being.

When pressure keeps piling on, many leaders respond by pushing harder and being tougher on themselves. I see this often in my work as an executive coach with high-achieving professionals navigating burnout, uncertainty, and sustained workplace stress. But when the environment changes and the load gets heavier, more strain isn’t the answer. Self-compassion is a leadership skill—one that builds resilience, restores clarity, and supports sustainable decision-making for the long game.

We’re in an illuminated time of year. Earlier this month the Festival of Light had Menorahs twinkling all around my Los Feliz community. White lights also abound in preparation for the Christmas holiday. They seem especially visible this year, encircling trees, embelishing rooftops and lacing through greenery. It’s a beautiful and inspiring season of hope and possibility.

Confidence isn’t something we’re born with, and it doesn’t arrive before action. I see this in my work every day. Confidence is built through doing hard, unfamiliar things—through missteps, discomfort, and the willingness to begin before we feel ready. Courage comes first. Confidence follows.