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According to LinkedIn, today represents the fourth anniversary of my coaching practice. In truth, today is simply the day that, back in 2013, I updated my LI profile to reflect my new work (I had officially been at this two weeks prior to that). Nor does it factor in all of the planning that led up to my “launch” (such as discussing, debating, pondering options, networking, branding, etc.) or the many weeks of relative radio silence that followed (the only noise at times was that of crickets and the wind blowing my shingle back and forth).

Nonetheless, I look back at this four-year journey I have so much to be excited about and proud of. For starters, I have had an awesome ride that I could have never predicted. All I knew when I first started out was that I was trying to transition into the coaching space in a brand new market where I was a relative newbie. Who and how I would serve were complete unknowns to me, as was the very survival of this ambitious (some called it “gutsy” or even “reckless”) endeavor. But I did know that I would give it my all and make every effort for this to be a success.

A parable is told about a pencil-maker who was preparing to put an important pencil in a box. Before doing so, though, he took the pencil aside. “There are five things you need to know,” he said. “If you can remember these five things, you will become the best pencil you can be.”

You will be able to do many great things, but only if you allow yourself to in someone else’s hand.

1. Sharpening is painful, but it is critical if you want to write sharply.
2. Since you have an eraser, you can correct most mistakes you make, though some may be harder to erase than others.
3. Remember, it’s what’s inside that’s most important.
4. Whatever surface you on, make sure you leave your mark. No matter how hard, rough, or easy, you must continue to write.

This parable shares powerful lessons for every leader.

Much has been written about leadership lessons that can be learned from flying flocks of geese. Their formations, how they support each other in takeoff, the way that they rotate leaders and communicate (as in honk) have all been well documented. But this gaggle demonstrated their form of leadership from the ground level.

The following were my takeaways:

1. Maintain priorities – As all of this was going on, the adult geese made sure to keep everyone in line and care for their young. Sometimes leaders can get so caught up in their projects or problems that they fail to keep their ship in order, keep folks informed, and consider everyone’s needs. Steady leadership demands that even in the most difficult situations leaders remember those that are most vulnerable and also critical to their success, namely their people.
2. Stay the course – It would have been most logical and obvious (at least from my perspective) for the geese to simply fly off in the face of danger. Perhaps they didn’t because their young wouldn’t have been able to keep up (see #1 above). Either way, they showed a sense of calm commitment to the course and were able to get where they wanted despite the obvious threats that surrounded them.

Check out this video to learn more and remember to leave comments below!

One of the most powerful tools that a motivational speaker can have in his or her arsenal is a “setback to comeback” story. In essence, this is a story in which the individual experienced a powerful, potentially debilitating setback or set of circumstances and yet managed to turn that perceived deficit into the basis of their future success.

Whether it’s Jim Rohn speaking of life as a penniless husband and father who was inspired by a mentor to set goals and create a plan for success, Les Brown describing his adoption by a domestic servant and adolescent diagnosis as “educable mentally retarded” while still finding success in music, politics and inspirational speaking, or Tony Robbins recounting his rocky childhood without a father (who had walked out on the family) or enough food to eat and how that motivated him to want to help and feed others, audiences rally around and connect deeply with messages of individuals who overcame hardship and pain and used that to achieve great things.

After years of commuting to work with an old minivan (it was really nice when I first bought it), I recently leased a midsize sedan. To say that it drives better than my old hunk of junk is an understatement. It handles well, doesn’t guzzle nearly as much gas, and is far more enjoyable to drive.

Despite all of these benefits, I am much more mindful about accidents than I used to be. The van, to be polite, is not in the best of shape anymore. It has its nicks and bruises, not to mention substantial underbelly rust from 15 combined Chicago/New Jersey winters. Any further damage at this point is not much of a big deal.

In contrast, when I drive the sedan I tend to tense up more quickly, grip the wheel with both hands more often and more firmly than before, while also pulling in my shoulders as if I can somehow make the car narrower that way. Though I took out a damage waiver on the car, I still want to preserve its pristine condition and have been driving much more defensively to avoid contact.

Last night’s marathon 18 inning affair between the New York Yankees and Chicago Cubs, in which my home team (Yankees) completed the sweep of my nostalgic squad (Cubs – I lived on Chi-Town’s North Side for twelve wonderful years) had all of the drama that a baseball aficionado could possibly ask for. The game pitted two of the best teams vying for victory on nationally televised Sunday Night Baseball. There was great pitching, timely hitting, great defense (did you see that catch by Kyle Schwarber?), a new record set for strikeouts (48), depleted benches and bullpens, and more. You name it, this game had it.

But the part of the game that most resonated with me began in the bottom of the 9th inning. The Yankees brought their dominant closer, Aroldis Chapman – the slayer of the Billy Goat Curse as a Cubs reliever this past October – in to close out a three ruin lead and achieve a series sweep. But a funny thing happened along the way (not so funny if you root for the Yanks). Chapman blew the lead, through a series of walks, well-placed hits, and, to top it off, a hit batsman. With their closer failing to close, manager Joe Girardi had to go to the pen to salvage a tie and move the game into extras.

Recently, I participated in a Passover hotel retreat with my family in the Catskill Mountain region of New York State. The program organizers worked hard to keep everyone – old and young alike – busy throughout the week with entertainment and activities that offered fun and recreation. One such activity was a game room, which was set up in the hotel’s expansive lobby.

My eleven year old son asked me to play some of the games with him. One game in particular, a basketball game, had two small hoops within a close distance of each other and a collection of rubber kid-sized basketballs. The objective was to score as many baskets as possible within a 30 second timeframe. I did pretty well all things considered (I hadn’t shot for a while, just sayin’,) but after each round ended I looked up to see that my son had beaten me yet again.

I am pretty confident that had I played him on a regular basketball court with a standard-sized ball he would have stood little chance of achieving even a single victory. Not that I am so great, mind you, but my size advantage and experience would have carried me to victory. However, once the playing field changed, with different equipment, a playing field of different proportions, and no defense, all of my competitive advantages fell by the wayside.

As I considered my neutralized position in this indoor game of hoops I began to reflect upon other situations where people seem to hold advantages, not because they are intrinsically better or more talented, but because of some other factors or considerations.