Four days before the emergency, my team leader wrote me an email. The message was explicit: do not continue with the purchase order until the specifications and cost center have been provided. The entire upper management team was copied. My task was clear. Wait. Four days later, fifteen minutes before
Most of us hope for harmonious relationships. We celebrate the easy conversations, the shared laughter, the sense that we understand one another. Researchers have even suggested that flourishing relationships tend to have many more positive interactions than negative ones. At first glance, it sounds like a simple equation: the more
I thought I was planning a visit to a local distillery. The weather was forecast to be hot. My wife wondered aloud whether a city trip was really the best use of a long weekend. Perhaps, she suggested, I might simply stay closer to home. At first that felt like
Last week I sat on my balcony writing about whether a relationship had reached the point where it could no longer carry what I was asking it to carry. Some relationships deepen. Some pause. Some quietly become something else. Mutuality, I thought then, might simply be the willingness to discern
When a relationship becomes difficult, we often ask what went wrong. Is someone not trying hard enough? Has trust been broken? Should we communicate better? Should we persevere? Should we walk away? These are good questions. But lately I have found myself asking a different one. What can this relationship
There are moments when a relationship changes almost imperceptibly. Nothing dramatic has happened. No betrayal. No shouting. No obvious breach of trust. And yet something essential has shifted. For a long time I struggled to explain what that shift felt like. Then, over several conversations, a sentence appeared. It is
This week I found myself watching films about re-greening projects. Australia. Scotland. Saudi Arabia. Arizona. Different climates. Different cultures. Yet the first gesture is often the same. Someone builds a small check dam. Not a great engineering project. Just enough stones, branches, or earth to slow the rain as
This morning it’s raining. By the time I leave for work it will already have stopped, most probably. It reminds me of another recent morning when I stepped onto the wrong tram. I had looked for the familiar coloured destination display and, distracted for a moment, followed the red
This week I noticed a sticker on a security guard's water bottle holder. Machen ist wie Planen, nur krasser. Doing is like planning, only more intense. It made me laugh. There is something wonderfully practical about it. And something true. For a long time, I have been planning.
A curious thing happens after a few weeks. The work stops feeling like a project. At first every post feels significant. You wonder if it is good enough. You wonder if anyone will read it. You wonder whether you should redesign the website, change the headline, learn more about email
Most stories have trained us to expect a reveal. You climb the hill and there is a castle. You open the door and there is a treasure. You turn the corner and finally understand everything. But most walks are not like that. A few years ago my wife and I
Every walk has a moment. Not at the beginning, when you're still deciding whether to bring a jacket. Not at the end, when you can already see the car park. Somewhere in the middle. The trail bends. And beyond that bend you cannot see. My wife and I