Welcome to The Leadership Climb

Reflections on leadership, growth, and the long climb

A long climb is a journey, not a performance. There’s no medal platform at the summit. There’s no audience judging your form. It’s about walking the path, step by step, shaped by planning, effort, weather, uncertainty, and time. That’s how I think about leadership. And that’s how I think about this writing.

I’m not writing to perform. I’m not writing because I’ve figured it all out, or because I’ve determined the end. I’m writing as part of a journey, for myself first. My hope is that by walking this path openly, some of what I’m learning, questioning, and thinking about might help you in your professional life, your personal life, and your life as a whole.

Why I’m Writing

At the core of everything I do is a simple purpose: to help people find their purpose and reach their full potential. I’ve seen what happens when people do. I’ve lived it myself in moments. And I’ve also seen what happens when people don’t, when they stay stuck, disconnected from their strengths, uncertain about their direction, or playing smaller than they’re capable of.

Over the course of my career, I’ve been fortunate to experience a wide range of roles and environments. I’ve learned a lot, I’ve made mistakes, and I’ve grown in ways I didn’t anticipate. Over time, it’s become clear to me that much of that learning is only truly valuable if it’s shared.

Writing is one way I do that. But it’s also how I think. Writing helps me process ideas, test beliefs, reconcile experiences, and shape meaning. It’s how I slow down enough to notice patterns, and how I move forward with more clarity and intention.

Reach Your Full Potential

I believe deeply that reaching your full potential is the unlock for contentment and success, both professionally and personally. This process requires learning, introspection, discipline, and creativity. It requires a willingness to sit with discomfort, and perhaps most importantly, a willingness to accept a great responsibility: the responsibility of knowing that you can change the world around you.

Leadership requires accepting the responsibility of knowing that you can change the world around you.

That responsibility feels heavy. For leaders, this often shows up in the uncomfortable realization that waiting for alignment, permission, or certainty is itself a decision. It’s often easier to tell ourselves that things around us are fixed, circumstances, organizations, or other people are the limiting factor. Growth begins when we acknowledge our agency and recognize that our choices, habits, and perspective matter. Leadership, at its best, is an expression of that responsibility. It’s not about control or authority. It’s about influence, clarity, and service, starting with yourself.

My Own Climb

I’m entering what I describe as the fifth phase of my career. I won’t go deep into my phases in this post, but they matter in shaping how I see the work ahead. First came finding something I liked and was reasonably good at. Then growing as a software engineer, followed by developing into technical leadership. Then came senior leadership: learning how to operate systemically, how to build teams, and how to make decisions with second and third-order effects.

Each phase brought growth and each phase brought blind spots. Now I am entering into my fifth phase. What’s different now is this: I have found my purpose. That doesn’t mean I’ve arrived. I have a very long way to go in my own journey. But I now know what I want that journey to look like. A big part of it is walking alongside others, helping them clarify their path, strengthen their footing, and build the confidence to climb.

Writing to Integrate

I consume a lot of information. I always have. At any given time, I usually have two books going: one for pure pleasure, one focused on learning and growth, though that line is often fuzzy. I listen to podcasts. I read newsletters. I’m endlessly curious about how people think, build, lead, and live.

What I value most is synthesis, taking ideas in and applying them to my own life and work. Without writing, the ideas I consume feel like unwatered plants, full of potential but unable to take shape. Writing is the watering. It gives ideas room to grow. Not all of them are worthwhile; there are plenty of weeds. But among them, some meaningful and durable insights do emerge.

Writing is how I clear space. As Chase Jarvis says in Creative Calling, “stifled creativity is an enormous energy drain.” My mind is constantly full of big visions, small observations, half-formed questions, and competing ideas. At a certain point, that volume becomes noise. Writing moves thoughts from my head onto the page, where they can be examined, shaped, and prioritized. As that space opens up, clarity follows, direction sharpens, and I operate with more intention.

Over time, I’ve come to see creativity less as talent and more as attention. It’s a way of perceiving, a practice of noticing what’s usually invisible. Writing trains that awareness. It slows me down enough to see patterns across experiences and to reconcile belief with action. Connections that were implicit become explicit. Ideas that felt scattered begin to align.

Writing also builds discipline. Each time I sit down and create something from nothing, I reinforce a simple truth: I can make things happen. In The Creative Act: A Way of Being, Rick Rubin teaches that “to live as an artist is a way of being in the world. A way of perceiving. A practice of paying attention.” That idea matters far beyond writing. It shapes how I approach change, risk, and uncertainty in other parts of my life.

Sharing that writing adds another layer. It means accepting judgment and pushing past hesitation. In doing so, it changes how I relate to risk and opportunity more broadly. If I can put my thinking into the world openly and imperfectly, why wouldn’t I be willing to take bolder steps elsewhere? Writing becomes both a practice of clarity and a practice of courage.

Climbing Together

This is not a newsletter about hacks, shortcuts, or performative leadership. It’s a place for me to think out loud about leadership, growth, purpose, discipline, creativity, and what it really means to guide, yourself first, and then others.

A long climb is a journey, not a performance. That belief shapes how I approach leadership. And it shapes how I’ll approach this writing. I don’t know exactly where this path leads. I’m showing up to walk, to reflect, and to share what I’m learning along the way.

If you choose to join me, my hope is simple: that something here helps you take your next step on your climb, in your life, and in your leadership. If this resonates, I hope you’ll walk alongside me.

Welcome to The Leadership Climb.