Smart business owners know there are really only three ways to differentiate yourselves in the marketplace and to have your customers see you as distinct from your competitors: products, services, and relationships.

“How are you arresting your own attention?

How are you cultivating a full and embodied presence so that you invite the best version of yourself and that of others to the conversation at hand?”

These days, if I’m going to be honest, people are restless. We’re still trying to figure out what and who we are in the next normal of a post-pandemic world. There’s no new normal, some things are normal, and some things will never be the same. We sense that we want some sort of normalcy, but we’re just not sure what that is.

For some leaders, it’s as if they are doing the equivalent to standing in front of the fridge when you think you’re hungry, but you’re not really hungry…

Recently, we were wrapping up an 8-month Leadership Academy with one of my long-time clients. They had decided--as they rolled out this new, comprehensive program for leaders--that the executive team would also participate. This is often not the case with hierarchical organizations that have multi-layers.

Every manager or leader I’ve worked with wants to know their people will be accountable for things important to the job: meeting goals, providing excellent service, caring about quality, and committing to innovation. We all want people to follow up and follow through, to have integrity with their word. We’d like them to take ownership of whatever’s at hand or whatever we’ve agreed to and go with it.

On good days we might be mildly annoyed when they don’t show this consistent commitment; on other days, we’re ready to don our Terminator T-shirts.

Hey leaders, not on the same page with some of your team members on the new changes—even after you thought you talked it out? Maybe you're just framing it wrong.

Consistently, the answer was a resounding no... their work culture was built on being creatively interruptive, pulling people together in an instant to look at a client project, or using a teachable moment to inspire continued growth. Their shoulder-to-shoulder space, with healthy snacks in the kitchen and a welcoming attitude to bringing your dog along for the day, didn’t jibe with conference calls or instant messaging.

Until it did.

One of my long-term clients is a great example of a company committed to its culture. As a health care organization, part of its vision is to be “an employer of choice” and a “provider of choice.” Their vision also includes pillars for quality, financial stability, and teamwork, but the first two, especially, are a direct reflection of their intentions around culture.

In MIT/Sloan’s recent Management Review, “Why Every Leader Needs to Worry about Toxic Culture,” the authors noted the “Toxic Five Attributes That Poison Corporate Culture in the Eyes of Employees.”

I learned to sew when I was 8. My mother was smart. She recognized a young girl’s increasing awareness and interest in her developing identity and how clothing and style said something about what she liked and who she was. “No,” she’d say, “we’re not going to buy that item. But if you want to make it, we’ll go to the fabric store and pick something out.”

I’ll age myself here to say that as I was pondering the importance of curiosity in an organizational journey and ultimately culture, Olivia Newton John’s 80s pop hit, “Let’s Get Physical,” infiltrated my brain. (Search for it; you might curse me for its catchy aerobics-inspired tune, or you might go in search of your long-lost leg warmers.)

Recently, I was feeling frustrated by some of the conversations I was having with my long-term clients. We’ve got great, high-trust relationships, and we’ve known one another for many years. I was feeling like the advice, ideas, skills, and support I was giving them was the same, almost every year. I wondered if I’d lost my edge, as there seemed to be a gap between knowing and doing for them.

The past two years have created more introspection and big questions than any other time in my lifetime. Even in times of personal challenge, tragedy, or loss—those times when it’s expected we will re-examine our illumined life path—nothing compares to co-experiencing a global pandemic, thousands of deaths worldwide, disruption to our lives, isolation from those we love, and chronic change in our work.

A photographic essay of mystical portals and inspired paths.