I recently had an insightful conversation with one of my sons. We were away together for a few days, and at one point he started sharing quite openly about some of the things he is working through in his own life. It was one of those conversations I really value — honest, real, and not rushed.

For a while I listened. But as he spoke, I could feel the helper in me waking up. I love people. I love growth. I love it when someone begins to understand themselves better and wants to move forward. So, almost without noticing it, I began moving from being his father into being a coach. I started sharing ideas. I mentioned a few tools. I could feel myself becoming excited, because I genuinely thought, “This could help him.”

Then he stopped me. Not aggressively, but clearly and honestly. He said something like, “Dad, I don’t need you to be my coach or my therapist now. I just need you to be my dad. I didn’t ask you for advice or help.”

That sentence stayed with me: “I didn’t ask you for advice or help.”

I realised again how easily love can become advice too quickly. We may mean well. We may care deeply. We may even have experience, insight or tools that could be useful. But that does not mean the other person is asking for it at that moment.

Most often people are not asking us to fix, coach, teach, explain, guide or solve. They simply want us to listen, to be present, and to understand something of what they are carrying — without immediately turning it into a plan or solution.

I am also learning again that many people already carry more answers within themselves than we realise. When they are listened to well, they often begin to find those answers, or at least redefine the questions more clearly. Sometimes, as they speak, they begin to hear themselves. They start seeing what they believe, what they fear, what they hope for, and what the next wise step may be.

And even when they do not immediately find an answer, they may still receive something deeply important: they feel heard, loved, validated and supported. Often that is already a great gift. Sometimes it is exactly what they needed most.

One of the things we need to remember in moments like this is that it is their story. Not ours. When someone shares something real, I can so easily bring in my own stories, examples, experiences or clever thoughts. Sometimes that may be helpful later. But too quickly it shifts the focus away from them. Suddenly they are no longer at the centre of their own story.

A better response from me could have been much simpler: “Wow, this sounds really tough.” And, if needed, I could have added, “Is there any way we can help or support you in this? Is there anything you need from us?” And then, perhaps, just to leave it there.

That kind of pause is not always easy for those of us who like helping. It is especially difficult when we can see possibilities, when we have tools that have helped others, or when we care so much that we want to reduce the other person’s struggle. But I am learning that good help often begins with simply being fully present.

That small pause also does something important in the relationship. It helps me not to move too quickly into the “knowing parent” position — the one who explains, corrects, teaches or solves. Even when that comes from love, it can easily make the other person feel smaller, as if they are now in the “child” position and must simply receive my wisdom. See my relational tool on Transactional Analysis.

Of course, this does not mean advice is never needed. There are times when guidance, mentoring, coaching and wisdom are very valuable. But advice lands very differently when it is requested and welcomed, rather than assumed.

This matters in families. It matters in mentoring. It matters in leadership. It matters in coaching and friendship. Many conversations do not go wrong because people do not care. They go wrong because care comes out too quickly as advice.

So this is the small shift I am trying to practise: listen a little longer, ask before advising, and be clear about the role I am being invited to play. Keep their story at the centre. And when advice is welcomed, offer it gently — not as the expert taking over, but as a companion walking alongside.

Sometimes the most helpful and loving thing we can do is not to say more, but to be more present. Be there, be there for them, and flow from there.

Let’s keep on growing – with insight, from the inside-out.

Imagine a workplace where people end the year energised, not exhausted.
Where holidays are taken to celebrate, not to recover.
Where work gives life instead of draining it.

This is not idealistic — it is simply uncommon, because many organisations run in a way that works against the brain, not with it.

Performance researcher James Hewitt reminds us that sustainable high performance is rhythmic. We focus deeply, then we recover. When recovery disappears, performance drops, creativity shrinks, and people either burn out (exhausted but still present) or check out (physically there, emotionally gone).

Recently, I worked with leaders in retail. This time of year is intense. Some are working 10–15 hours a day, including weekends, from now until February. I understand the business case — this is “harvest season.” But the personal cost is high: families strain, health fades, good judgment reduces. And once the culture accepts this as “normal,” it becomes very difficult to reverse.

So, my invitation to them was not to slow down, but to lead differently.

Small Shifts With Big Impact

• Reduce activities that don’t add value.
• Shorten meetings and include only essential people.
• Check only messages 4–5 times per day, not every few minutes.
• Close your door or work from another space when you need to think.
• Communicate intentionally — to the right people, at the right time.

Organisational expectations must support this:

• Aim to finish around 18:00 with 20:00 as a cut-off point — even during busy periods. Don’t award but rather rehabilitate those who do not adhere to the rule.
• If someone works a weekend, give recovery time in the week.
• If someone works late into the night, allow time to regain energy.

This is not softness.
This is steward leadership.

Stephen Covey reminds us that the main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing.
The 80/20 principle helps us identify the few activities that drive most results. Once we know that, we can simplify, remove clutter, and allow people to focus where it truly matters.

Even AI can help — by taking the admin, formatting, or routine tasks — freeing leaders to think, coach, create, motivate and connect.

So, I propose: A More Humane Way to Work.

This is not about lowering standards.
It is about sustaining excellence and resilience.

People who are valued, supported and energised will go the extra mile — not once, but year after year — because they are not being used up, but strengthened.

So, as we plan for 2026, let’s add one essential question:

What will we do less of next year?

Not to shrink our impact,
but to protect our energy, clarity and humanity — so that our impact becomes greater, our happiness more, and our relationships better!

We all have biases — it’s part of being human. Our brains are wired to notice what supports our first impression, and when it leans negative, it can easily run away with us. The danger is that bias begins to shape our “reality” — how we see ourselves, others, our work, even our country. (more…)