The deeper the impact, the quieter the power.
Seven years ago, I found myself surrounded by success—but oddly isolated.
My name was on the hook, and on a book. I was being invited to speak on panels, advise executives, share insights. But something felt off.
One Friday evening, after a 60-hour week, I closed my laptop and sat on the edge of the sofa in Copenhagen. Silence. I looked around my apartment and realized something that hit harder than any missed target: I had no one I wanted to call.
Not a teammate I could be fully honest with.
Not a friend who’d seen behind the mask.
Not even a version of myself I wanted to spend the weekend with.
That was the moment I understood:
I hadn’t just built a career — I’d built it at the expense of some real connection.
I used to think leadership was about being impressive.
Now I know it’s about being available.
Being grounded enough that people trust you with sharing themselves fully.
Being still enough that your presence speaks louder than your plans.
Since then, my definition of leadership has changed.
These days, I care more about how I make people feel in my presence than what I make them do.
I care less about being heard—and more about who’s still listening when I stop talking.
The ripple of your leadership isn’t in your biography.
It’s in all areas of your life: your family, your team, your clients.
It's whether people feel safer, clearer, braver after being around you.
And if you’ve been performing leadership instead of living it—
I get it. That was me too.
We don’t need more perfection in leadership.
We need more presence.
Stay steady,
Jed
