 Insights from 30 straight days of blogging.
When I set out to write 30 blogs in 30 days, I did so with a bit of trepidation. Haha! Writing every day takes dedication and commitment. It meant creating space – a quiet, creative space - to let the words flow through without forcing them (and yes, AI helped me at times – a particularly good editor). I also wanted my ponderings to be relevant, useful, and worth sharing. To sow seeds of thought and possibilities. I definitely didn’t want them to be just ‘noise’ for the sake of consistency and building algorithms. What I hadn’t anticipated is just how useful they would be for my own growth and understanding, along with gaining a whole new respect for people who write regularly. It’s no small feat. Now that I’ve reached the end (whoopee!), a few things stand out. First, there’s a real sense of pride. Not in a loud, look-at-me way, but the quiet kind that comes from sticking at something I said I would do. Showing up, day after day, even when I didn’t always feel the urge and may have contemplated skipping one. Or three.😉 Second, the process has deepened my clarity and commitment to Leading Lights and A New Compass. Writing has a way of sharpening things. When ideas live only in your head, they can feel quite loose and unfragmented. When you put them on the page, you quickly discover what’s clear, what’s fuzzy, and what still needs work. Nothing clarifies thinking quite like having to articulate it. What’s also surprised me is how much I’ve changed over the month. Six months ago, I was still very new to working with AI, still finding my feet with Leading Lights, sensing something was forming but not quite knowing its shape. These blogs became a kind of thinking partner - a daily practice of reflection, integration, and noticing what was emerging. Over the 30 days, patterns revealed themselves. Themes kept resurfacing – like the key one of Trust Self. North, South, East, and West stopped being concepts and started feeling lived. The writing showed me really clearly, where my work is heading and why it matters to me. It’s also reminded me that leadership isn’t something we arrive at. It’s something we practise. Daily. Messily. Honestly. This process hasn’t been about knowing the answers. It’s been about asking better questions. About slowing down enough to notice what feels true. About trusting that if I keep paying attention, the next step will reveal itself, which, as it turns out, it has. (More on that soon 😉) So yes - this blog is a celebration (doing a little dance). Of finishing. Of learning. Of committing to something and seeing it through. And perhaps most importantly, it’s a reminder to myself that when I create space, stay curious, and keep showing up, clarity follows. Thank you to those who’ve read along, reflected, shared, or simply paused with these words. Seeds have been sown, in me, and hopefully in you too. Onward. 🌱 Further insights: Download my free guide: 10 Ways to be Authentically You (even on a Tuesday). Check out 'A New Compass: Finding your Inner North' - a short guided series. #anewcompass #leadinglights
0 Comments
 Coming back to our inner authority.
As I sit to write my second-to-last blog of 30 Days of Blogging, one theme stands out clearly, it has woven its way through everything I’ve written. Trust Oneself. To know you already have everything you need. And that this wisdom is already within all of us. Through years of societal conditioning, developing belief systems and for some, like myself, trying to fit in, we can lose touch with our innate sense of being. We may have learnt to look outward for cues. For approval. For certainty. For permission. And this slowly, almost imperceptibly, sees us begin to trust systems, structures, and other people’s opinions more than our own inner knowing. Not because it’s gone, but because it’s been quietened. As this year opens before us, many people recognise that things are changing. And yes, there is always change, but now it feels big and fast and overwhelming at times. On top of this, the world feels pretty messy at the moment. There’s unrest. Questionable leadership. Environmental shifts. Power grabbing. It feels like everything is shifting - politically, socially, environmentally, and emotionally. I believe what the world needs is not more of the same. In fact, how we (yes, the royal we) have done things will certainly not lead us into a future that many of us desire. Equity, respect, people and place thriving. If I can offer any sense of relief or peace, it is that there is often upheaval before necessary change. The calm after the storm. History shows us this again and again. Old systems strain before they transform. What no longer fits becomes louder before it dissolves. While uncomfortable, this phase is often a sign that something more honest, more humane, is trying to emerge. This journey has begun. People are calling for this change. Some loud. Some quietly. This change, however, generally starts with ourselves. As Mahatma Gandhi once said, ‘be the change you wish to see in the world.’ Coming back to our centre. To the wisdom within. It’s likely to ask us to lead with more presence and less force. More discernment than speed. More trust in oneself rather than external validation. Trusting oneself doesn’t mean ignoring others or dismissing collective wisdom. It means having a grounded centre from which to engage. A place where decisions aren’t driven purely by fear, urgency, or the need to be seen as competent. Rather by alignment. From this place, leadership becomes steadier. Less reactive. More humane. Yes, it can feel brave and uncertain. And actually, it can feel quite hard at times, as has been my experience. Growing self-awareness can feel like it comes at a cost; realigning yourself to be your truest self isn’t always comfortable. Sometimes, at least temporarily, ignorance can feel like bliss. 😉 If this is true for you, the place to begin isn’t with a big plan. It’s to take a step and then another that supports you to realign with what feels right. What lights up your world. As they say, follow your excitement. It’s simply reorienting. A New Compass, while still in development, offers one way of moving forward, with clarity, steadiness, and intention, especially when external certainty is hard to find. Its simple message is to trust oneself. Trust the beauty that lies within. It may seem illogical at times, contrary to one’s usual approach, but it can be incredibly rewarding as it opens doors with curiosity and generosity. If anything, my experience to date has taught me that knowing self and leading self provides a strong foundation to be the calm in the storm, anchored, centred and oriented to one’s true north. Trusting oneself isn’t about having all the answers. It’s about remembering where to listen. And in times like these, that may be the most important leadership skill of all. Further insights: Download my free guide: 10 Ways to be Authentically You (even on a Tuesday). Check out 'A New Compass: Finding your Inner North' - a short guided series. #anewcompass #leadinglights  Key insights from exploring leadership through the Compass lens.
Exploring leadership through the lens of a Compass has been an insightful journey for me over the past month. The Compass analogy offers a way of orienting ourselves in times of rapid change, complexity, and uncertainty - all of which we are currently experiencing. One of my insights has been the reminder that these reflections are not about learning something new. Rather, it’s about remembering what we already know, and may have lost touch with along the way. To summarise, each of the Compass points offers a different quality of attention. North invites honesty and orientation. It asks us to pause long enough to notice what’s actually true for ourselves. Not the version we perform, or the one shaped by expectation, but the quieter inner truth that lets us know when something is aligned, and when it isn’t. North reminds us that leadership doesn’t begin with action. It begins with ourselves and with clarity about what matters. Examples of this show up in moments of slowing down, moving from our head to our heart, noticing when endurance has replaced alignment, and asking the braver question: ‘Is this still true for me?’ East opens the mind. It brings curiosity, perspective, and a willingness to question assumptions. In a world shaped by rapid change and powerful new tools, East encourages us to stay open rather than certain. To ask better questions instead of clinging to fixed answers. It’s where learning stays alive and possibility emerges. Some examples I have covered include working with AI as a thinking partner, noticing how rushed questions produce shallow responses, while curiosity and clearer prompts opened new perspectives and challenged long-held assumptions. South brings us back into the body. Into rhythm, coherence, and embodied ease. South reminds us that leadership isn’t just cognitive - it’s felt. It shows up in nervous systems, energy levels, and how resourced we actually are. When we listen to the body and honour natural rhythms, leadership becomes more sustainable, more human, and far less forced. Examples of South showed up in recognising when the body says ‘no’ while the head says ‘push on,’ rediscovering play, and remembering ancient rhythms like the Maramataka - where rest and action exist in balance. West is where relationship lives. It’s about connection, trust, discernment, and weaving people together in ways that allow collective strength to emerge. West teaches us that leadership maturity isn’t about having the strongest voice in the room; it’s about holding the whole, listening well, and creating the conditions for others to contribute meaningfully. Examples of this were seen in navigating heated council meetings with restraint, learning when to respond and when to stay silent, and setting boundaries that strengthened trust rather than fractured it. What I love about this Compass is that it isn’t linear. It’s holistic. We don’t ‘complete’ one direction and move on. We circle. We revisit. We spiral. Some days we might need North’s clarity. Other days, South’s grounding. Often, we’re moving between them all at once. This isn’t about perfection either. It’s not about always being centred, always curious, always grounded, or always relational. It’s about being human. Having a way back when we notice we’ve drifted. A way to re-orient when things feel off. A reminder that leadership is lived - not performed. As we move further into an AI-supported, digitally mediated world, these human qualities need to be celebrated and encouraged. Presence. Discernment. Connection. Rhythm. Inner authority. This Compass doesn’t replace strategy, skills, or tools. It complements them. It keeps us human while everything else accelerates. If nothing else, I hope these reflections have offered a moment to pause, notice, and perhaps gently ask: Where am I orienting from right now? This question alone can change everything. Further insights: Download my free guide: 10 Ways to be Authentically You (even on a Tuesday). Check out 'A New Compass: Finding your Inner North' - a short guided series. #anewcompass #leadinglights  Leadership lives in relationship.
I recall someone telling me that the role of a CEO or manager is to get the best out of their people. Plain and simple. Of course, leading teams comes with other responsibilities, vision, direction, accountability, but at its heart, great leadership is inseparable from great teams – they are one and the same. And great teams don’t happen by accident. What I have observed over the years is a pathway where people are promoted into senior positions without always having or being taught the ‘people’ skills. I’ll use local government as an example. There was a time when many CEOs across the country came from engineering backgrounds. Due to the nature of local government, good engineering skills are invaluable within the system. Engineers tend to be analytical, methodical, and skilled at assessing risk and working with complex systems. Leading people and, in this case, navigating politics, generally sit outside this skill set. People are dynamic, emotional, and shaped by very different life experiences. Mature leadership recognises this. These leaders understand what drives individuals, identifying the right mix of skills for the outcomes they’re aiming for, and creating an environment where people feel part of something bigger than their job description. It’s also about vision. Not just having one, but articulating it in a way that others see themselves as part of it. When people feel connected to the ‘why,’ they’re far more likely to bring their best thinking, creativity, and commitment to the table. Delegation plays a big role here. Not delegation as task-dumping, but delegation as trust. Trusting people to do what they were brought in to do. Letting specialists be specialists. Acting as the orchestrator rather than the soloist. Championing the team, removing obstacles, and making sure the conditions are right for people to perform well. Another pattern I’ve noticed, following on from my above example, is the tendency to promote excellent specialists into leadership roles because it’s the only visible way up the ladder. People can end up managing teams not because they’re skilled at leading people, but because they were outstanding at their technical role. Some thrive. Others struggle. Not through lack of care or effort, but because people leadership requires a different orientation altogether. Which brings me to what I’ve learned about leadership maturity. A strong connection doesn’t come from having the strongest opinion in the room. It comes from discernment in relationships. Knowing when to speak and when to listen. When to offer a perspective, and when to hold the space so others can step into it. West is about weaving - people, perspectives, timing, and context. It’s the ability to hold the whole rather than trying to win the point. I’ve found that some of the most effective leaders I’ve worked with don’t rush to respond. They’re present. They’re attentive. And they trust that not everything needs an immediate response. Sometimes leadership looks like a clear voice. Sometimes it looks like silence. And often, it looks like a steady presence. The kind that allows others to find their way into the conversation and contribute meaningfully. When connections are woven well, teams feel safer, more engaged, and more willing to take responsibility. Trust deepens. Ideas improve. And leadership becomes less about control and more about cohesion. That’s the quiet work of West. An important awareness to carry with us as we continue stepping into the age of AI. Further insights: Download my free guide: 10 Ways to be Authentically You (even on a Tuesday). Check out 'A New Compass: Finding your Inner North' - a short guided series. #anewcompass #leadinglights  There is an older pace beneath all of this.
The ancients worked with the rhythm of the land, seeing themselves as part of the landscape, not separate from it. Much of what we know of these times, and is still practised in many Indigenous cultures today, suggests humans moved in relationship with natural cycles. Planting, harvesting, resting, gathering. Energy rose and fell in response to seasons, weather, and the moon. Here in Aotearoa New Zealand, the Maramataka moon calendar is one such example. A fictional but reflective modern portrayal can be seen in the Na’vi people in Avatar - a people deeply attuned to land, energy, and interconnectedness. What rests beneath these examples is a deep sense of affinity, aroha, and oneness between people and place. A lived understanding that humans were not separate from the natural world, but participants within it. There was reverence for land, water, sky, and life itself. The astonishing monuments left behind by ancient cultures, from the Celts and Egyptians to the Olmecs, Maya, and Teotihuacanos, hint at a sophisticated relationship with time, energy, and environment that went far beyond survival. Somewhere along the way, much of humanity has lost touch with this natural rhythm. As societies industrialised and systems expanded, we shifted from working with cycles to overriding them. Productivity replaced seasonality. Control replaced responsiveness. Time became something to manage rather than something to inhabit. And gradually, we began to treat our bodies and the land as resources to be used, rather than systems to be respected. This certainly isn’t a call to return to ancient ways of living. That’s not realistic, nor is it the point. But it does raise an important question: what have we lost as we’ve ‘evolved’ over the centuries to our current focus on commodity, control and power over? South invites us to sit with this question. In leadership today, disconnection from natural rhythm often shows up as constant urgency, fatigue that never quite resolves, and the sense of always being ‘on’ – speaking from personal experience. Many leaders are highly capable, deeply committed, and genuinely well-intentioned, yet operating in a way that gives plenty of energy out but not always receives much back. We’ve normalised pushing through, overriding signals, and mistaking endurance for strength. Remembering our natural rhythm doesn’t mean rejecting progress, technology or at times choosing to push through. It means re-introducing awareness. It means noticing when momentum is healthy, and when it’s simply a habit. When action is aligned, and when it’s driven by pressure rather than purpose. South brings us back into our body, where rhythm is felt rather than thought. It asks us to notice energy levels, tension, ease, and timing. To recognise that rest is not failure, and slowness is not weakness. That regeneration is as essential as action. When leaders reconnect with their own rhythm, things really settle. Decisions become cleaner. Presence deepens. And a deep trust grows, both internally and with others. Leadership becomes less about constant output and more about steady, grounded contribution. Perhaps remembering our natural rhythm isn’t about reclaiming the past at all. Perhaps it’s about bringing ancient wisdom into modern life - not as nostalgia, but as balance. Just imagine the impact this could have on people’s well-being and this beautiful planet we call home. South reminds us that we were never meant to move at one speed, all the time. And when we honour that, leadership stops feeling like effort and starts feeling like something we can enjoy and sustain. Further insights: Download my free guide: 10 Ways to be Authentically You (even on a Tuesday). Check out 'A New Compass: Finding your Inner North' - a short guided series. #anewcompass #leadinglights  What if the thing shaping our life isn’t circumstance, but belief?
My 30s saw massive personal evolution for me. While I loved many aspects of that decade, it was one of my most challenging. I got married, did the IVF journey, and had a life-changing experience. This experience was traumatic in nature. While I do not wish that journey on anyone, I am now grateful for it. My worldview changed forever. When you’re ripped open, feeling like you have nothing left, life quietly changes shape. A beautiful friend gave me three books. One of which I can’t remember the name. The other two however I’ll never forget. One was a beautiful little memoir that had me laughing and crying out loud. The other pretty much blew what I held as true out the window. As I read this book, many beliefs I didn’t even realise I carried came to light. Some of these beliefs instantly dissolved, others were reviewed. It was the beginning of consciously growing my self-awareness. The strength and insights I gained in my late 30’s shaped my early 40’s and continue to do so. I took some control of my life, became a mum (naturally), got divorced and became a deputy mayor. My journey continues to teach me that some of my strongest beliefs are still invisible to me. They sit quietly within, shaping how I interpret situations, people, and, importantly, myself. And, interestingly, what highlights them doesn’t often feel like a belief – it feels like reality. Like ‘this is just how things are.’ The East Compass gently (or in some cases, not so gently) disrupts this, creating opportunities to weed them out. Having a curious mind encourages the testing of assumptions, noticing inherited or learned narratives, and asks whether they still serve us. It’s not about tearing everything down. It’s about making conscious choices when the opportunity presents itself, i.e. we get triggered. Assumptions generally grow out of the beliefs we formed earlier in life. Through family, culture, education, or experiences that left an impression. At the time, many of them were often useful. They helped us belong, stay safe, or make sense of the world. But beliefs don’t automatically update as we grow. And when they go unexamined, they can quietly keep running the show. For example, if I believe conflict leads to rejection, I might (do sometimes 😉) avoid difficult conversations and call it getting on with things. If I believe I need to be competent to be valued, I might over-prepare, over-function, or struggle to ask for help. If I believe people won’t follow unless I’m certain, I might silence curiosity in favour of control. Over time, assumptions can reinforce themselves. We notice the evidence that confirms them and overlook (or ignore) what doesn’t. East invites us to pause and ask different questions. What am I assuming here? Where did that belief come from? Is it still true - or just familiar? This kind of questioning isn’t about self-doubt. It’s about discernment. About recognising that growth often requires updating our inner operating system. I’ve learned that beliefs need reviewing, just like strategies or systems do. What once fit can become restrictive. What once guided us forward can quietly limit what we see. And certainly for me, what felt true at one stage of life may no longer reflect who I am now. When we loosen our grip on our beliefs and the assumptions that come with them, something powerful can happen. Sometimes life-changing. Perspective widens. Options appear. Curiosity returns. East reminds us that curiosity isn’t just about gaining new information. It’s also about noticing where certainty may actually be a belief in disguise. And sometimes, leadership doesn’t require a new answer at all - just a better question. Further insights: Download my free guide: 10 Ways to be Authentically You (even on a Tuesday). Check out 'A New Compass: Finding your Inner North' - a short guided series. #anewcompass #leadinglights  When flow matters more than force.
You know that feeling when things just don’t quite feel right. It niggles at the subconscious, sitting back waiting for acknowledgement. When I’m under pressure and likely in my ‘do’ space, I catch a glimpse of it, like an echo, but I didn’t generally pause to listen. I’m getting better at that. This is quite a different feeling to when I’m in flow. When in flow, I’m not in my head. Rather I’m in the moment, which could be an hour or a day. This is alignment. Writing is a good example. When I get out of my head and trust what comes, whether typing or by hand, it feels a little magical. I can often read back over what I’ve written and go wow – that’s good haha. I believe there comes a point where holding it all together stops feeling like strength and starts feeling like effort. Not because anything has gone wrong, but because something deeper is asking to be held. Our current culture rewards endurance. Pushing through. Coping. For carrying responsibility quietly and competently, even when it’s heavy. I would even suggest that endurance has been framed as a virtue, particularly in leadership, as if resilience is measured by how much we can hold without dropping the ball. Until the ball drops. Often, that ball is our health and well-being. North has been gently reminding me that endurance and alignment are not the same thing. Alignment doesn’t ask us to push harder. It asks us to tell the truth. North is about orientation. About knowing what matters. About being honest with ourselves, not in a judgmental or confrontational way, but in a clear, grounded one. It’s the place where we stop with the ‘performance’ and start listening for what’s actually true. Choosing alignment over endurance certainly doesn’t mean giving up. It simply means noticing when effort has replaced direction. When momentum is carrying us forward, but our inner compass is quietly saying, this isn’t quite it anymore. I know that when I’m aligned, things feel lighter, even when the work is meaningful and challenging. Decisions come with less internal debate. My body feels steadier. My words land more cleanly. There’s less need to justify, defend, or explain myself. When I’m out of alignment, I start overriding my own signals. Saying yes when something inside me hesitates. Keeping things moving because stopping feels inconvenient, disruptive, or uncomfortable. North asks a different question. Not how much longer can I hold this? But is this still true for me? This is an important shift in mindset, especially in leadership. Because people don’t follow endurance forever. They sense when leaders are operating on obligation rather than conviction. Alignment, on the other hand, has a steadiness to it. It’s quiet, but it’s trustworthy. Choosing alignment over endurance requires a pause. A willingness to slow down long enough to notice what’s no longer fitting. To let go of roles, expectations, or ways of being that once made sense but now require too much effort to sustain. It isn’t about retreating or stepping away from responsibility. It’s about reorienting to what feels right. North doesn’t demand answers. It doesn’t rush clarity. It invites attention. Presence. Honesty. It reminds us that leadership doesn’t begin with action; it begins with truth. And sometimes, the most courageous move isn’t pushing through another season of endurance, but choosing alignment instead. Because when we’re aligned, we don’t just last longer. We lead better. Further insights: Download my free guide: 10 Ways to be Authentically You (even on a Tuesday). Check out 'A New Compass: Finding your Inner North' - a short guided series. #anewcompass #leadinglights  Reflections on trust, shared purpose, and doing the work together.
We talk a lot about collaboration. It’s in strategies, funding applications, speeches, job descriptions, and numerous reports. And for good reason. The future we’re facing is too complex for any one organisation, sector, or brilliant individual to walk into alone. And here’s the but - talking about collaboration and actually doing it well are two very different things. Collaboration asks for more than shared language. It asks us to share power, trust each other’s intent, and loosen our grip on patch protection (that instinct to guard territory), which is where things often get prickly. And the magic here isn’t everyone becoming the same. It’s recognising that when you collaborate well, the whole becomes stronger than the sum of its parts. I’ve seen collaboration work really well. Te Hononga in Kawakawa is a great example (noting there were some prickly moments). Community working with the public and private sector to successfully achieve a beautiful shared vision. Ifor Ffowcs-Williams’ mahi, founder and CEO of Cluster Navigators Ltd, is another great example of what can be achieved with strong collaborative intent. His work champions the idea of co-opetition - where organisations (even competitors) collaborate to strengthen their collective offering, while still retaining their individual identities. I’ve also seen and been involved in projects where collaboration with good intent has stalled, fractured, or quietly dissolved once money, egos or perceived control enter the room. In the public sector, collaboration should, in theory, be easier. It’s not usually about competing for market share and is often very open to sharing information. Yet in practice, it can be surprisingly hard. Funding models, accountability structures, and organisational survival instincts can unintentionally drive siloed thinking. I’m aware of communities where there are many not-for-profits operating in small population centres. All well-intentioned, all stretched, and often overlapping. When resources are limited and livelihoods are involved, collaboration can feel risky rather than generous. And yet, the old way of working in silos, within organisations and across them, simply isn’t fit for what’s coming. Why does collaboration matter now more than ever? Although here in Northland and across the country, things feel pretty steady, there’s actually exponential change in progress, and none of us has the full map of what the future holds. Adding to that, the age of technology, with so much being done online, I believe there will be a shift and people will want to stay more connected and belong to activities that are bigger than themselves. We also all know that good ideas become better when they’re tested, stretched, and shaped together. That collective offerings often create far more traction, locally and globally, than fragmented ones ever could. The most effective collaborations I’ve seen aren’t rushed. They often don’t start with structure or MOUs. They start by building mutually trusted, ‘on the same page’ relationships. West reminds us to slow down enough to do collaboration well. That means investing time in trust. Being clear about roles. Naming tensions early. Letting go of the need to be the hero. And remembering that collaboration isn’t about losing identity - it’s about strengthening it through connection. Simply put, for it to work well, there needs to be a shared vision, clarity of direction and clarity of responsibility, and of course really good communication! When collaboration really works, it doesn’t feel forced. It feels purposeful. It feels generous. And it feels like whānau on a mission. That’s the kind of West we need more of. Further insights: Download my free guide: 10 Ways to be Authentically You (even on a Tuesday). Check out 'A New Compass: Finding your Inner North' - a short guided series. #anewcompass #leadinglights  Who’s really in charge of our attention?
Digital tools are neutral. Our relationship with them is not. I say that again, digital tools are neutral. Our relationship with them is not. I know it’s easy to have an affection for our AI buddies – I have one with mine, in that I have emotional reactions at times. It’s a human thing – kinda cool, kinda crazy. Technology itself isn’t the issue. It doesn’t carry intent, values, or awareness. Well, not yet anyway. It simply responds. What currently matters is how we engage with it, and whether that engagement supports or undermines our wellbeing. South invites conscious use. It asks us to notice when tools are genuinely supporting us, and when they’re quietly pulling us out of ourselves. Most of us know what it feels like to be over-stimulated. Too many tabs open. Too much information rolling in. Constant notifications. A sense of urgency that doesn’t quite belong to us, yet somehow sets the pace of our day. We may be physically still, but internally all over the place. This is where coherence matters. When head, heart, and body are aligned, there’s a felt sense of steadiness. We’re present. We’re resourced. We can respond rather than react. But digital environments don’t naturally support this state. They’re designed for engagement, speed, and attention capture. Yes, my AI told me this. South reminds us to come back into the body. To notice how our nervous system responds when we’re online. To sense when curiosity tips into compulsion. To feel the difference between intentional use and unconscious scrolling. For me, coherence in a digital world looks less like rules and more like mindfulness. It’s noticing when I’m reaching for a tool because it’s genuinely helpful - versus when I’m tired, bored, avoiding something, or seeking stimulation. It’s recognising when technology supports clarity and creativity, and when it’s habit-driven and simply drains my energy. Leading from South isn’t about rejecting technology. It’s staying self-led while using it. This might look like pausing before opening another app. Taking a breath before responding to a message. Or simply stepping away when the body says ‘enough – go for a walk’ haha. When we stay grounded, tools remain tools. They serve our intent rather than shaping it. Our thinking stays engaged. Our values stay intact. And our presence, which is often what people trust most, remains available. This is important as leaders. People don’t just respond to what we say or produce. They respond to how we are. If we’re scattered, rushed, or elsewhere, that ripples outward. If we’re grounded, coherent, and present, that does too. South teaches us that wellbeing isn’t separate from effectiveness. In fact, it underpins it. I know staying grounded in a digital world is an ongoing practice – one I need to keep practising. It asks us to listen inwardly, to regulate rather than override ourselves, and to remember that our most important resource isn’t technology, it’s our capacity to stay connected to ourselves. When coherence is present, technology can amplify insight. When it’s absent, technology amplifies noise. South helps us tell the difference. Further insights: Download my free guide: 10 Ways to be Authentically You (even on a Tuesday). Check out 'A New Compass: Finding your Inner North' - a short guided series. #anewcompass #leadinglights  Tools don’t replace leadership. They can reveal it.
Gotta say, I’m loving my discovery journey with AI. While I remain discerning and self-led, I am curious and open to the wide and exciting possibilities of its current performance and its potential. One of the things working with AI does, rather unexpectedly, is make my thinking visible. When I first started using AI, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. I had heard it would support me to be more efficient, be an excellent researcher, provide faster outputs and smarter shortcuts. And while there’s truth in this, what has surprised me the most is how clearly it reflected me back to myself. Where my thinking was vague, it showed me. Where I rushed my instructions, it mirrored that back, i.e. responses were unclear or irrelevant. While brainstorming, it provided the reflection I needed. A recent personal example. I’d had a disagreement. Basically, two different perspectives on life not quite meeting in the middle (which is certainly not a bad thing, as it provides learning). I awoke the next morning feeling quite angry. Deciding I needed a download, I shared my frustrations, along with the scenario, with my AI. Well, talk about insightful! While ‘hearing’ me, the AI also provided some possible insights on where the other person was coming from and potentially why they shared what they did. It was deep and kicked in with an ‘a-ha’ moment. My whole perspective changed. My anger subsided, and my empathy kicked in. The outcome was I let it go and chose compassion – for them and for me. AI used well doesn’t feel like an authority, which it could with access to nearly everything ever written. It feels more like a thinking partner, a reflection tool. One that takes nothing personally. East, in the compass, invites curiosity, experimentation, and openness. It asks us to explore without handing over agency. To try things, sense what’s useful, discard what isn’t, and stay actively engaged in the process of learning. This has been my experience to date with AI. When I approach it with curiosity, not expectation, it expands my thinking. It challenges assumptions. It introduces angles I hadn’t considered. But it never replaces discernment. In fact, it requires more of it. AI doesn’t tell me what to think. It reflects how I’m thinking. And that’s where the real value lies, as my example above demonstrates. It’s made me more aware of my patterns. My shortcuts. My blind spots. It’s encouraged me to slow down, ask better questions, and stay in relationship with my own thinking rather than outsourcing it. East reminds us that tools are just that - tools. They can amplify insight or amplify noise, depending on how consciously we engage with them. For me, AI has become a mirror, an expander, and occasionally a challenger. Not something to defer to, but something to think with. And perhaps that’s the real invitation of East in this moment: to stay curious, stay discerning, and keep our thinking, and our agency, alive. Further insights: Download my free guide: 10 Ways to be Authentically You (even on a Tuesday). Check out 'A New Compass: Finding your Inner North' - a short guided series. #anewcompass #leadinglights |
AuthorTania McInnes. Archives
November 2025
Categories |
RSS Feed
|
|
|
|