Presence, embodiment, and the courage to cross into what matters
I just returned from 8 days of traveling around Colorado in my campervan—visiting friends and clients, biking, hiking, and, in one case, skinny-dipping. What follows are two stories—one personal, one professional—both about what it really takes to cross into something new.
When Knowing Isn’t Enough
A friend took us off the beaten path to visit a high-alpine lake. Most people get there via an old Jeep road. We hiked through fields of wildflowers and up along a steep waterfall path. It was beautiful, and a little scary. You can’t see the lake until you come over the top, and there’s no sign that a waterfall is just below.
I watched one friend undress and jump right in. She made it look easy. Natural. She had been over that edge before. For me, it took two tries to get into that glacial lake.
That first pause wasn’t about temperature. It was about the threshold.
The one between “I know this would be good for me” and “I’m willing to feel it all the way.”
We meet that line everywhere in leadership.
You know what needs to shift. You know what value you’ve been overriding. You know where you’re not fully in.
But knowing isn’t the same as crossing.
It wasn’t mindset that got me into the water. It was breath. It was presence. It was letting go of needing to control the experience.
That second time, I didn’t edge in. I stepped off the rock and let myself be held by the water.
Shock. Cold. Aliveness.
I didn’t just think about change—I experienced it.
The Ride That Brought Her Back
A few days later, I met up with a client, new in her CEO role, for a mountain bike ride. We’d wrapped a few foundational sessions earlier in the year, and this was a way to drop back in. Nothing formal. Just movement, a check-in, some space.
We talked as we climbed. The conversation circled around values and a few recent triggers. She was managing a lot.
After a transition to a new trail to start our descent (literally called Crossover), she had a near crash, so we stopped to regroup. She shared that she’d had several out-of-character mishaps on the bike lately.
Me—being familiar with how my own bike mishaps often mirror what’s happening emotionally—offered that possibility. That opened something up.
We talked about how nature, the body, and the bike are great messengers for what’s really happening on and off the trail. She hadn’t made that connection before.
So I invited her to take the lead on the descent and simply practice being present: in her body, on her bike, in nature. We rode in silence all the way down.
At the bottom, we sat at the picnic table at my campsite and debriefed. She was grounded. Clear. The connection was back.
“I’ve been cutting out something that matters. I’ve told myself nature is a nice-to-have right now. But that’s how I get clear. It’s part of how I lead.”
We made the connection between what just happened on the bike and what was playing out in her leadership—and how she could bring this kind of presence into the organization.
It wasn’t a breakthrough. It was a remembering.
Why Metaphor, Movement, and Presence Matter
This story is specific, but it’s not isolated.
I’m seeing this across the board: leaders reaching capacity, having lost contact with the very things that make them effective and fully human. The cost is more than just personal. It ripples into communication, team energy, trust, and the overall feel of a system.
These are leaders who are ready to do the deeper work. But they’re not always sure how to access it. That’s where a different kind of practice is needed.
Metaphor cuts through what language can’t reach. Movement reveals what insight alone can’t access. Presence tells the truth faster than any spreadsheet or org chart.
This is the real work of leadership— The kind that starts in the body, that holds steady when the pressure mounts, that moves with clarity and courage, and builds systems that are alive, aligned, and ready for what’s next.