In every relationship—between people, within teams, across governments and institutions—there exists a quiet but powerful force: the flow of energy.
Sometimes, that energy moves toward you. You’re in demand. People seek you out. Opportunities arrive without asking. The phone rings. The inbox fills. The room leans in. And in those seasons, it’s tempting to believe you’ve arrived—that the gravitational pull you feel is a reward for all you’ve built, all you’ve become.
But the current is always moving. Energy is not static. It shifts, often subtly, sometimes all at once. And the most important skill—maybe the most underrated discipline of all—is knowing when the current has changed.
Because there are other seasons. Seasons where the world is quieter. Where what once came easily now requires effort. Where the affirmation doesn’t arrive unprompted. Where the hands that once reached for yours are now in pockets, folded, unsure.
These are the moments that define you.
Do you wait, stubborn and still, for the tide to return? Or do you recognize the moment for what it is—a call to chase—and move toward what matters with humility, clarity, and grace?
This is not a business tactic. This is a life truth.
In every meaningful connection—romantic, professional, civic—there is a rhythm. Sometimes you are pursued. Sometimes you must pursue. And success, in all its forms, comes to those who can feel the change and adjust without pride or panic.
I’ve led through both ends of the current.
There were years when my company held the upper hand. We had the best people, the strongest momentum. Our culture spoke for itself, and our brand carried a weight that made recruiting easy and growth feel inevitable.
And then came the years that asked more of us. When we had to earn every inch. When the tide receded, and the work of building belief began again. In those moments, we didn’t double down on bravado. We didn’t cling to the way things used to be. We adapted. We chased. And in doing so, we found a deeper kind of strength—the kind that endures beyond trend or cycle.
What’s true in business is even more true in love and leadership.
Relationships suffer when we mistake comfort for permanence. When we stop courting the people we love. When we forget that loyalty is not a given—it’s a flame that must be fed. The best leaders I’ve known—whether in a home or a company or a country—are those who never grow too proud to reach, to listen, to try again.
There is no weakness in chasing. To chase is to care. To pay attention. To say, “I see the shift—and I’m willing to meet it.”
The mistake is not losing the energy. The mistake is pretending you haven’t.
Governments do this all the time—operating as if they still have the leverage of yesterday, taxing and posturing and legislating with the arrogance of momentum long gone. Companies do it too, coasting on brand equity that no longer buys them relevance. And in our personal lives, we do it when we assume others will always be there, even as we stop showing up.
But we can live differently. We can lead differently.
We can build the muscle of awareness. We can stay awake to the current. We can practice the art of sensing when to lean back and let energy come to us—and when to lean forward, with courage and kindness, and go get it.
You won’t always be chased.
But you can always choose to chase—with intention, with love, with the quiet strength of someone who knows that movement is not failure, it’s freedom.
So ask yourself, in your work, your home, your heart:
Where is the energy flowing?
And are you moving with it?
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In life, we’re not always chased. Sometimes we must move first. Greatness doesn’t come from standing still—it comes from paying attention and acting with humility and intent.
I'll see you tomorrow. Keep showing up. Keep chasing what matters.
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