Love More, Hate Less

“What the world needs now is love, sweet love, it’s the only thing, that there’s just too little of.”

– Burt Bacharach

I grew up in Canada.

I’ve experienced many places around the world — I lived as a baby in Singapore, spent formative years between nine and eleven in London, England, and later as an adult in New York City and its suburbs. But Canada is what I know. It’s the soil beneath my feet and the cultural fabric that shaped my worldview.

I truly believe it’s one of the best countries in the world — multi-ethnic, multi-lingual, and, for the most part, tolerant of differing political and social beliefs. We’ve done our best to build a place where citizens feel both liberty and opportunity, while also experiencing a sense of community and belonging.

Have we gotten it perfect? Of course not — no one has. But I do believe we’re trying.

Canada is a nation founded by immigrants and continually renewed through immigration. That policy, while imperfect at times, is built on the essential belief that those who seek a better life and are willing to contribute to the ideals of freedom and democracy are welcome here.

But long before it was called Canada — long before anyone migrated or immigrated here — this land was home to Indigenous peoples. Their cultures were rooted in deep connection with the earth and in stewardship of the land. And yet, flawed as our ancestors were, and flawed as we remain, we imposed our own beliefs and systems upon them. In doing so, we stripped them of theirs — and with that, their dignity.

Only now are we beginning to truly reckon with the nature and impact of what was done in the name of religion, power, and control. We cannot be proud of that legacy — but it is ours to bear, and ours to reconcile.

Recently, on the podcast, I had the privilege of interviewing Jovica Savic — a Serbian immigrant who arrived in Canada with his family in the late 1990s as a boy. They fled the violent dissolution of Yugoslavia and the atrocities that tore through the region.

Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia, Macedonia, Montenegro, Serbia, and Slovenia were once united under a Soviet-style socialist federation led by Tito. But upon his death, everything unraveled. What was once stable became volatile. And as has too often been the case throughout human history, the deepest divides were drawn along religious lines.

Neighbors who once shared meals and playgrounds became enemies — and in some cases, perpetrators of violence, displacement, and death.

I discovered Jovica by chance. I came across a post on Instagram from his account, @yatziruns, where he shared something deeply personal. He had been out training for an ultra-marathon and, while crossing a bridge, noticed a Canadian flag pinned to the railing. It moved him to speak:

“I ran past this Canadian flag here. And amongst all the hate Canada is getting these days, there are a few words I want to say.

Twenty-five years ago, my family came to this country.
We came here because that flag — and this country — was the only one that would take us in.
The only one that welcomed us from the aftermath of a bloody war, living as refugees in the basement of a shitty apartment building.
This is the only country that took us in.

I may not have been born here, but I am Canadian.
And you should be proud to be Canadian.

There aren’t many countries like this. Yes, we’re going through a lot, and yes, it’s hard. But I don’t think most of you know what real hard is.
Just count yourselves lucky… just count yourselves lucky… alright?”

Those words struck a deep and positive chord. A post from a man with only a handful of followers was seen by nearly 300,000 people and shared close to 40,000 times.

It clearly resonated — with those who saw it, and with me.

I wanted to know more about his story, which is why this week’s episode of Leave Your Mark (EP 445) is a conversation with Jovica.

I wanted listeners to hear the perspective of someone who came here seeking safety and hope. I wanted us to be reminded that what we have in Canada is precious — unusual, not usual — and that it must be cherished, supported, and reinforced.

It is far too easy to tear down what we do not understand, or to lose sight of our blessings amid the noise and frustration of everyday life. But perspective — especially the perspective of those who have suffered in ways most of us will never know — has the power to restore gratitude and inspire stewardship.

To truly understand one another, we must listen to one another. We must share our stories.

Because life is only made better through love and understanding.

Love more. Hate less.

The Bag is Empty

“While money can’t buy happiness, it certainly lets you choose your own form of misery.”

– Groucho Marx

One of the things I’ve come to realize as I’ve grown older is this: there is no point of arrival. You don’t “get there.”

There is no there, there.

I don’t remember the exact moment that truth landed, but I do remember a story told by Blake Mycoskie, the creator of TOMS shoes, on The Rich Roll Podcast – “The More You Give, The More You Live” (Nov 23, 2020).

“And maybe because I started early in my entrepreneurial life and I grew up fast, I achieved pretty much everything that I set out to achieve before I was 40. And that to everyone and myself at the time thought that was like a huge blessing.

But what I found was is that I woke up one day—or a series of days—and didn’t really think that my future was going to be better than my past. And that’s a really scary place to be in.

I think that leads to a lot of mental health issues and devastating situations for people. And it wasn’t that I didn’t like my life or my situation, or my business, or I wasn’t proud of what we accomplished with TOMS, but I realized that if we—anyone—and me specifically in this situation, if we are looking to external accomplishments, external praise, anything, anything, even your kids’ love, for your sense of peace and joy, ultimately you will realize that it doesn’t work.”

Blake then went on to recount an interview he’d prepared for at the United Nations with Ted Turner, the founder of CNN. Turner was someone Blake had admired for years—a larger-than-life figure who seemed to embody arrival.

“I spent months preparing for this interview and was really excited to do it. But right before we went on stage, we’re having this conversation.

Ted said to me, ‘In life and in business, especially in business, it’s like this ladder. And it’s not like the corporate ladder you’re thinking about, but it’s a ladder of believing that if you climb up it, at the top there’s something magical—something that’s going to give you everything you’ve ever wanted.

And as you start to climb the ladder, you see this beautiful bag on the top of it. You can only think what’s in that bag when you get to the top.’

He said, ‘I spent so much of my life climbing that ladder to get a peek into that bag.

And I’ve seen inside the bag.

I’ll tell you what’s in it…

The bag is empty.

And even though I’ve told you, you still need to climb the ladder and look for yourself.’”

In their conversation, Turner’s metaphor of the ladder clarified a simple but hard truth: the feeling of being complete once you’ve “made it” never actually arrives.

Yet Turner wasn’t saying the climb is meaningless. He cautioned that arrival isn’t the guarantee we imagine it to be—and that each of us must discern for ourselves what’s in the bag and whether it truly holds anything of value.

That metaphor stuck with me, too, because I’ve climbed many ladders in my own life.

For years, the pinnacle I sought was professional hockey. I told myself: if I can just get there—if I can work in the NHL—then I’ll have made it. That job would be the bag at the top of my ladder.

And then I got there.

Eleven seasons inside the world I thought would complete me. The logos, the arenas, the flights, the access—living, as one staff member once said, “inside the glass.” It was supposed to mean I mattered.

But the bag wasn’t full.
It was emptier than I expected.

Long hours. No feedback. Constant pressure. And an emptiness in my gut that whispered: this isn’t it.

I had mistaken arrival for meaning.

We are convinced early in life that setting goals, acquiring things, achieving milestones, and climbing ladders is the pathway to fulfillment. We’re sold the idea that one day, at the pinnacle of success, we’ll arrive in a place where everything feels complete.

But the truth? There is always a bigger boat, a better car, a shinier title. We’re chasing the horizon—and the horizon never gets closer.

We’ve even been conditioned to consume this illusion as entertainment. In the past, it was Dallas or Dynasty—soap operas of wealth and conflict. Today, it’s Succession and Billions. We binge-watch these shows not just for the drama, but for the fantasy of power, status, and the inevitable implosion.

Would we really want to live those lives?

History tells us what they don’t show: the eccentricities of wealth don’t solve problems—they magnify them.

The cycle of rise and ruin is hypnotic because it reflects the illusion we secretly live ourselves: there is no final arrival. Always another mountain. Always another rung. Always the sense that we haven’t yet made it.

And then came the accelerant—social media.

In 2004, Facebook launched. In 2007, the iPhone hit the market. Together, they rewrote how we see ourselves. Suddenly, everyone had access to carefully curated lives. Instagram made it aesthetic. TikTok made it constant.

An entire generation was co-opted by an algorithm designed not to connect us, but to compare us.

The results have been devastating.

Suicide rates in the United States have risen steadily since the inception of these platforms, especially among young people aged 15 to 24. Depression now affects more than 18 million adults each year. It is the leading cause of disability for people under 45. Every twelve minutes, someone dies by suicide. More lives are lost this way than by homicide.¹ ²

We are more connected than ever—and more isolated than ever.

Does that mean we shouldn’t dream?
Should we abandon goals altogether?

Of course not. Aspiration is human.

We are meant to explore, build, and create. But the key is understanding that the reward lies in the pursuit—not in the arrival.

Fulfillment doesn’t come at the top of the ladder. It comes in the act of climbing, in the experience of discovering, in the growth that happens along the way.

Life is not a game you win. There is no formula that unlocks eternal satisfaction. When we make it about trophies, accolades, or numbers, we trap ourselves on a treadmill of more.

Another trophy. Another follower count. Another rung.

It’s a hamster wheel disguised as progress.

The truth is, the joy is in the doing—not in the done.

Think of J.K. Rowling. After the success of Harry Potter, she had everything—money, fame, legacy. She could have stopped. But she didn’t. She kept writing, kept creating, because the act of expression itself was the point.

Or Richard Branson. He didn’t stop after building one company. He created airlines, explored space, launched health initiatives. Not because he needed more, but because curiosity and contribution fueled him. The pursuit was the purpose.

And here’s the real irony: size doesn’t matter. We’ve been conditioned to believe that only massive dreams are worthy. But fulfillment isn’t tied to scale—it’s tied to depth.

A simple project, done with presence, can be just as profound as a global empire.

Restlessness and curiosity are not flaws—they are part of being human. They’ve driven explorers across oceans, astronauts to the moon, and artists into the unknown. But every explorer eventually discovers the same thing: when you get to where you thought you wanted to go, there’s always somewhere else to reach for.

Satisfaction can’t come from the false prophecy of arrival. It can only come from the effort and the experience of trying.

You’ll save yourself years of chasing shadows if you stop obsessing about getting it and start focusing on being in it.

Because in the end, as Ted Turner realized—and as I discovered in my own career—

There is nothing in the bag.

¹ Kessler RC et al. Prevalence, Severity, and Comorbidity of Twelve-Month DSM-IV Disorders in the National Comorbidity Survey Replication (NCS-R). Archives of General Psychiatry, 2005 Jun; 62:617–627.
² Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) Web-based Injury Statistics Query and Reporting System (WISQARS). (2013, 2011) National Center for Injury Prevention and Control, CDC (producer).

Looking Back to See Progress

“The success of every woman should be the inspiration to another.”

– Serena Williams

Thirty-five years ago this month, I began working at Concordia University in Montreal, my alma mater. I had graduated three years earlier, certified as both an athletic therapist and a strength and conditioning coach.

The first two years after graduation I worked in a private clinic, until the clinic could no longer afford to keep me on. I took a job managing a sports store, and to be honest, I was not far from giving up on my career and trying something else entirely.

One day, the man I had interned under at Concordia Athletics walked into the store. He mentioned he was looking to hire an assistant. As I listened to him talk through who he was considering, it suddenly dawned on me that the role could be reshaped—someone who could serve both as a therapist and a strength and conditioning coach. He loved the idea. The only problem: he barely had two pennies to rub together to make it happen.

We figured out a way to get me paid, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Today, those humble beginnings came flooding back as I sat down to watch the Women’s Rugby World Cup final between Canada and England. Here I was, watching an international women’s sporting event in front of 82,000 fans in England, broadcast globally on TSN. Incredible.

When I started at Concordia, Canadian universities were just beginning to push for gender equity in sports. But women’s teams were still drastically underfunded, and there was no clear blueprint for supporting them.

Most of the women athletes had never trained in a weight room, hardly trained in the off-season, and in many cases were still learning the games they were playing at the university level. Soccer, basketball, and volleyball had some established culture, but preparation models were thin at best. Women’s rugby and hockey were truly in their infancy.

I was fortunate to work with some remarkable pioneers. I’ll never forget watching future Hockey Hall of Famer Cammie Granato and her teammate Karyn Bye suit up at Concordia. You could see the future of women’s hockey in them.

Over my eight years at Concordia, I worked to instill off-season and in-season preparation habits across women’s teams—strength training, conditioning, standards, and expectations. At first there was stigma around women lifting weights, but soon enough some became hooked on the empowerment of building strength and seeing it show up in their play.

Slowly but surely, things began to change. The games changed as the athletes changed.

Still, it was bittersweet. When players’ university careers ended, so too did their athletic ones. There was no next step. No professional leagues. A career in sport beyond school was little more than a dream.

I remember endless debates with colleagues, athletes, and coaches about the future of women’s pro sport. The discussions were always a mix of frustration, hope, and disbelief. At the time, the games simply weren’t seen as entertaining enough. Who would pay to watch? It felt impossible.

When I left Concordia in 1998, I stepped back from women’s sport directly, but I watched quietly as it grew. National programs expanded, women’s sport began to excel, and I was fortunate to work with some extraordinary female Olympians. I saw how hard they worked, often for little to no financial reward, purely out of love for their sport.

Over the years I witnessed women push for equity, claw for legitimacy, demand financial support, and chip away at recognition. I watched the WNBA launch in 1996, tennis grow into a financial powerhouse, and other sports begin to claim space.

Athletes became more physical, more powerful, more skilled. Their games became undeniably entertaining. Slowly but surely, people—and money—started to pay attention. Professional leagues started to form. Dreams became possible.

And so today, here I was—wearing Rugby Canada gear, watching our women’s national team, including some Concordia athletes, compete on the world stage. Playing in a sold-out (that’s tickets with a price tag!) professional rugby stadium. 

Broadcast around the world.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I sang O Canada. Because 35 years ago, this was nothing more than a dream.

You did it, ladies.

The Courage to Choose Reconciliation

“You will achieve more in this world through acts of mercy than you will through acts of retribution.”

– Nelson Mandela

Acts of retribution and payback feel more common than ever. Of course, conflict and revenge have been part of society for millennia, but today they seem to build up day by day.

The internet and our global interconnectedness put every act of violence or retaliation under a spotlight. What might once have been a local quarrel is now broadcast worldwide. The act itself becomes the focus, and the attention it draws only reinforces our human tendency to chase more of it.

We’ve come to see revenge, confrontation, and escalation as ways to build influence. And influence, in our current world, is treated as a golden commodity—perhaps even more alluring than gold itself ever was.

There is a powerful scene in the movie Invictus, where a meeting is held to decide whether to abolish the Springboks—South Africa’s national rugby team. For decades, the Springboks had symbolized apartheid and white Afrikaner nationalism.

After Nelson Mandela’s election, many in the African National Congress wanted to erase that symbol. They proposed stripping the Springbok name, colors, and emblem, replacing them with something new for the new South Africa. To them, the Springbok represented oppression and exclusion.

The film dramatizes Mandela calling a special meeting of the South African Sports Committee. He arrives late, lets emotions build, and then addresses the room:

“Brothers, sisters, comrades: I am here because I believe you have made a decision with insufficient information and foresight… Our enemy is no longer the Afrikaner. They are our fellow South Africans, our partners in democracy. And they treasure Springbok rugby. If we take that away, we lose them. We prove that we are what they feared we would be. We have to be better than that. We have to surprise them with compassion, with restraint, and generosity… But this is no time to celebrate petty revenge.”

Mandela’s message was clear: even though the Springbok was a hated symbol for Black South Africans, he believed it could be transformed into a symbol of unity.
To white Afrikaners, the Springboks were a source of pride.

Abolishing them would have made whites feel attacked and excluded in the new democracy.

By choosing generosity, forgiveness, and inclusivity—even toward former oppressors—the Springboks could be reclaimed for all South Africans.

That is why Mandela insisted the Springbok name and colors remain. That choice set the stage for the 1995 Rugby World Cup, when he famously wore the Springbok jersey at the final match—a gesture that embodied reconciliation more powerfully than any speech could.

Historians note that Invictus took dramatic license in constructing the scene, but the spirit of Mandela’s leadership was exactly this: not punishing, but bringing people together; not revenge, but reconciliation; acting with generosity; building a new nation.

Mandela himself put it this way:

“We were expected to destroy one another and ourselves collectively in the worst racial conflagration. Instead, we as a people chose the path of negotiation, compromise, and peaceful settlement. Instead of hatred and revenge we chose reconciliation and nation-building.”

Mandela’s choice reminds us that leadership often means restraint. But what does that mean for us?

Too often, when we find ourselves in conflict, our instinct is to dismiss or condemn those who oppose us. We rarely pause to understand why they see the world as they do. We assume. We label. We inflame.

When we choose retribution, we don’t resolve conflict—we escalate it. We feed the fire until it becomes an inferno.

The real power lies in choosing the harder path: to hold back, to seek resolution, to reimagine the relationship, to reinvent the situation. It isn’t easy—but nothing worth doing ever is.

And while influence may seem attractive, remember that it comes with scrutiny. The fear of losing it often drives people to escalate their behavior again and again. Like any drug, its effect dulls, and the need for more intensity grows—until, inevitably, the proverbial cliff is reached.

As the old adage reminds us: Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Hear No Evil, See No Evil, Speak No Evil

“You and I are told we must choose between a left or right, but I suggest there is no such thing as a left or right. There is only an up or down.”

– Ronald Reagan

It’s interesting to watch the landscape of political discourse and the human need to categorize people into neat little boxes: right or left, woke or far right, socialist or fascist. We love to label people by their supposed beliefs without ever really knowing them. And when people do share their beliefs, what we hear is often a curated version — spun to create a story, or worse, to stir controversy.

But if we actually look at the definitions of liberalism, conservatism, and socialism, each of them at its core is built on well-intentioned ideas.

Liberalism emphasizes individual freedom, equality of opportunity, and the protection of rights. It seeks to expand civil liberties, promote tolerance, and adapt to change where progress is needed. Historically, liberalism leaned toward free markets and limited government, but modern expressions lean more toward government’s role in leveling the playing field and ensuring fairness.

Conservatism emphasizes tradition, stability, and continuity. It’s about preserving institutions, cultural norms, and moral values as anchors of social cohesion. Conservatives lean toward strong but limited government, gradual change rather than upheaval, and place weight on personal responsibility, faith, family, and community.

Socialism emphasizes collective responsibility, equality, and social welfare. At its heart is the belief that society functions best when resources are managed in a way that prioritizes fairness and universal access to essentials like healthcare, housing, and education. There are many shades — from social democracy, which balances markets with strong safety nets, to more radical forms that push for collective ownership.

👉 In short:

• Liberalism emphasizes freedom and equality of opportunity.
• Conservatism emphasizes order, stability, and tradition.
• Socialism emphasizes shared responsibility and equality of outcome.

When you step back, none of these central ideas are disturbing or outrageous. In fact, many democracies weave them together into a kind of mosaic — a counterbalance that helps prevent any one ideology from distorting itself into dogma. Over time, though, the meanings shift and bend. Lincoln’s Republican party, for instance, was the party of emancipation — a shock to those of us who grew up associating Republicans with modern conservatism. In Canada, the emergence of the New Democratic Party under Tommy Douglas reflected a push for greater social support within a system already balancing liberal and conservative influences.

The danger isn’t in the beliefs themselves, but in what happens when the pursuit of power twists them. When ideas become tools to control, constrain, or silence others, their original intent — to guide us toward a better society — is lost.

And this is where we seem to find ourselves more and more today. Less direct conversation. Less respectful debate. More rage-baiting, more insult.

So maybe the question we should be asking is: how do we get back to the good that lives at the center of each of these systems? How do we remember that, stripped down, they all begin with a fundamental belief in doing right by our fellow human beings?

Two eyes, two ears, one mouth. Maybe it’s time we used them in proportion.

America at a Crossroads

“I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed.”

– Dr. Martin Luther King Junior

This week marks 24 years since 9/11.

I had stood in front of the Twin Towers just weeks before they were reduced to rubble by terrorists in one of the most devastating moments in modern history. Shortly thereafter, I returned to my homeland for work and watched that terrible event unfold on television in shock and disbelief.

This infamous anniversary, and the current political discourse, has made me reflect on what I’ve witnessed in America since then.

As a Canadian, I’ve watched the political landscape of my neighbors to the south with great interest throughout my life. Partly because of the three years I spent working in New York City, and partly because the U.S. has always been the “big brother” to the south. But mostly because Canada, like so many nations, has been deeply influenced by American media, culture, and politics for as long as our countries have coexisted.

Both nations were built on the foundation of Indigenous cultures long before Europeans ever arrived. The continent later shaped by European powers — Spain, England, France — even the Vikings long before that. Yet each country developed its own fabric of progress through wars, migrations, political debate, belief systems, and the constraints of geography and climate.

A Slow Erosion

Over the years, I’ve watched with concern the slow, insidious deterioration of what America once stood for. These days, regardless of whether you lean left or right, the uncomfortable truth is that those in leadership on both sides have been corrupted so deeply that they no longer truly represent their people.

Money and power dominate both parties. Overtly or covertly, the intent is self-preservation and advancement, not service to the nation. The system is rigged whichever way you turn, and it will take an extraordinary movement of leaders — to get the ship sailing in the right direction again.

The Founding Vision

Since its inception, the United States has stood — at least in principle — for opportunity and democracy: equal representation of citizens under the law. That was the stated intent of those who penned the Constitution.

Flawed as they were — men who denied equality to women and permitted slavery — they nonetheless sought to create something radically new. They imagined a structure where no single ruler held ultimate authority, where power was balanced, and where citizens had a say.

The Constitution laid out three branches of government:

• Executive: Led by the President and Cabinet, responsible for steering the nation’s direction.
• Legislative: A bicameral Senate and House designed to check executive power and create laws.
• Judicial: Courts tasked with ensuring justice and upholding the Constitution.

Representation was meant to be chosen by the people. Presidents elected every four years. Members of Congress elected on staggered terms. Amendments expanded rights over time, limiting executive tenure and broadening protections for citizens. 

At its essence, democracy meant that no one person or group could rule unchecked.

For generations, the world believed in that promise: the American Dream, where anyone could build a life of liberty and opportunity.

Where It Stands Today

Those in power still claim to believe in that vision. They argue over who is more democratic, who cares more for “the people,” who is best to lead the nation forward.

But if they truly believed in democracy and equality, here’s what they would be working to fix:

1. Electoral Reform
   A voting system that guarantees every citizen’s ballot counts equally and fairly. This is simply not the case today.
2. Campaign Finance Reform
   A system where regular citizens — not just the wealthy or corporate-backed — can realistically run for office. Ideas, not money, should decide elections.
3. Term Limits and Age Limits
   End the era of career politicians whose longevity is tied to corporate allegiance rather than public service. Watching Senators and Presidents serve into their late 70s and 80s while the retirement age remains 65 is, at best, irresponsible.
4. Tax Reform
   Build a fair tax system that doesn’t disproportionately favor the wealthy but ensures everyone pays their share.
5. Depoliticizing the Supreme Court
   The judiciary should not be a political prize, yet it has become exactly that.
6. Eliminating Corporate Lobbying
   Representatives should legislate with conscience, not under the thumb of lobbyists and donors. This is tied directly to campaign finance reform and would free leaders to focus on governing instead of fundraising.
7. Funding Local Police Forces
   Post–George Floyd, there was loud talk about “defunding the police.” Yet now, the National Guard and military are increasingly used to quell crime and unrest — a role meant for properly supported policing at the local level.
8. Restoring Trust in Federal Institutions
   Misuse of funds, conflicts of interest, and political weaponization have eroded faith in government. Oversight and accountability must be re-established so that citizens can once again trust the institutions essential to civil society.
9. Immigration Reform
   America was built by immigrants. Reinventing how people immigrate, establish themselves, and remain as positive contributors — while also creating legitimate means for removal when necessary — is critical to the future.
10. A Legitimate Third Party
    The two-party system has hardened into endless polarization: us vs. them. A viable third party could break the gridlock and force cooperation in the name of progress.

These reforms are not small tweaks; they are fundamental shifts that would re-establish America as a vibrant democracy and a genuine model for the world.

I don’t claim to know exactly how these changes could be achieved, or what they would ultimately look like. But I do know this: the endless finger-pointing over which administration is better or worse is mostly smoke and mirrors. In the meantime, it’s the regular citizen — the backbone of the nation — who continues to be scammed, year after year.

Back in the early 2000s, I hoped the horrific events of 9/11 might have changed the trajectory of the nation for the better. Sadly, it seems instead to have accelerated its decline.

The question now is not whether America can reclaim its founding vision — but whether it still has the will to try.

Why Selling is Really About Helping

“Great salespeople are relationship builders who provide value and help their customers win,”

– Jeffery Gitomer

A lot of people in the human performance industry dislike the idea of “selling.” It’s often frowned upon when performance professionals market their services, share their knowledge publicly, or build personal brands.

Why? 

Because when most people think of selling, they imagine persuasion, pressure, or convincing someone to buy. But according to my recent podcast guest https://www.buzzsprout.com/1017442/episodes/17756538, Keenan (Jim Keenan, as he’s formally known), one of the most outspoken voices in modern sales, real selling is something entirely different: helping.

In our conversation, he explained that the most effective salespeople don’t “push” products. Instead, they ask better questions, listen deeply, and diagnose problems. As Keenan puts it:

“Selling is about understanding where people are, why that’s not enough, and how they can get more. You’re not selling them — you’re helping them.”

That philosophy resonates well beyond business. As coaches, therapists, or performance practitioners, we’re constantly “selling” ideas. Not in a manipulative sense, but in guiding clients to believe in their ability to grow, adapt, and change. When you convince someone to buy into a training plan, a recovery strategy, or even the idea that they can get better, you’re not forcing — you’re helping them see what’s possible.

Keenan’s own life story adds credibility to this principle. Adopted in the late 1960s into a mixed-race family in Boston, he grew up navigating challenges with curiosity and resilience. He chased dreams of sports and modeling before ultimately building a career in sales and later writing the best-selling book Gap Selling. Along the way, he also raised three daughters as a single parent, with a philosophy rooted not in protection, but in teaching — allowing them to own their outcomes and grow stronger through experience.

What struck me most in our conversation is how consistently Keenan applies this lens: in sales, in leadership, and in parenting. The same mindset that built successful businesses also raised confident, capable children. His legacy, as he sees it, isn’t just measured in numbers or accolades, but in the impact he’s had on people’s lives.

For those of us in performance and health professions, there’s a valuable lesson here. Success doesn’t come from pushing our agenda or showcasing how much we know. It comes from genuinely understanding others’ needs and helping them bridge the gap between where they are and where they want to be.

That often means listening deeply, identifying the fears or roadblocks they may not articulate, and then showing them — with empathy and clarity — how you can support their growth.

We shouldn’t be averse to the word “sales.” Instead, we should reclaim it. At its core, selling is about caring enough to help. And when you adopt that mindset, you not only make a difference in someone’s performance, but in their life.

Making the Most of Your Home Office

“Home is where the heart is . . .“

– Unknown

If you’re like a lot of people post-pandemic, your place of work has shifted. Maybe you used to commute daily to a corporate office, and now you find yourself working from a desk tucked into a spare room. Or perhaps, like me, you’ve been living this reality for years.

Over the past decade, I’ve moved from coaching on the floor of training facilities and working hands-on with teams, to teaching and mentoring people online. Along the way, my office became my home—and that brought both benefits and challenges.

The Upside

The most obvious perk: no commute. Back when I worked in New York with the Rangers, I once calculated that I spent 36 days a year in my car. Imagine what you could do with that time back!

Working from home also means I can connect with my family more easily. My days flow without the abrupt transitions between “work” and “life.” There’s a certain rhythm to it, and often, that feels good.

The Challenge

But that same rhythm can be slippery. Without the structure of an office—the arrivals, schedules, and meetings that anchor a day—it’s up to me to create the framework. Left unchecked, time slips away like water leaking from a cracked cup, lost forever.

That’s why intentionality matters.

My Secret Weapon: The Porch Office

From April through November, I set up shop on my back porch. The view is all forest and green, with fresh air filling my lungs all day long. It keeps me grounded, energized, and aligned with my work.

And the science backs it up: exposure to natural light supports circadian rhythm, improves sleep, boosts energy, and strengthens immune health. Add fresh air and a daily dose of nature, and it’s a recipe for better well-being.

Don’t have a backyard or porch? No problem. In today’s hyper-connected world, you can take your laptop almost anywhere—parks, street cafés, even a bench by the water. Surround yourself with life and movement, and let the environment fuel your productivity.

Movement Matters

Flexibility is another gift of working from home. I make it a point to walk a kilometer every day, and I often add a bike ride or hike for cardiovascular demand. A resistance workout rounds it all out. These breaks not only recharge my body but sharpen my focus when I return to the desk.

Build Your Framework

Pair movement and environment with a clear, intentional daily agenda—including time for family and friends—and suddenly the clutter of “work” feels lighter. Life opens up.

It’s no wonder so many companies are struggling to bring employees back into corporate offices. For many, the balance and freedom of home simply feels better.

Of course, not everyone thrives in this setup. Some people let the hours slip by, their health suffering as they stay chained to the desk. The opportunity isn’t in just being at home—it’s in how you use the home office.

Bring nature, movement, and intentional structure into your day, and your home office will become something more than a workspace. It will become a place where the heart is.

The Rise of Narcissism: From Parody to Power

“The ends justify the means……..”“

– Niccolò Machiavelli

I recently listened to a podcast with a leading researcher on narcissism. Fascinating stuff. Ironically, I was already arranging a guest on the same topic — another noted researcher here in Canada, who also happens to be the mother of one of my daughter’s school friends.

In psychology, narcissism is part of the normal range of human personality. A measure of self-confidence and self-regard can be healthy, even essential. But when those traits become extreme, persistent, and disruptive to relationships or functioning, they turn maladaptive.

I remember talking with special operator Rich Diviney back on Episode 200 of my podcast when he had just published The Attributes. He explained that some narcissistic tendencies actually serve a purpose. They can bring confidence, belief, and commitment to a task, even when someone is operating beyond their direct experience. Sometimes, you have to act more capable than you feel to accomplish what you’ve never done before.

But climb higher up that spectrum, and things shift. Narcissism becomes an excessive preoccupation with self: inflated self-importance, an endless need for admiration, and difficulty valuing the feelings or needs of others.

The Clinical Picture

According to the DSM-5, Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD) is a pervasive pattern of grandiosity, need for admiration, and lack of empathy, starting in early adulthood and showing up across many areas of life.

Key features include:

• Grandiose sense of self-importance
• Fantasies of unlimited success, power, beauty, or ideal love
• Belief in being “special” and only associating with the elite
• Excessive need for admiration
• Entitlement
• Exploitative relationships
• Lack of empathy
• Envy of others or belief others envy them
• Arrogant, haughty behaviors

A clinical diagnosis requires at least five of these traits to be consistently present.

Why Talk About This Now?

Because over the last 15 years, narcissism hasn’t just become visible — it’s become celebrated.

Once upon a time, we laughed off these types. The “roosters” who strutted with self-congratulation were tolerated at parties but not admired as models. Maybe they even impressed us with their accomplishments, but they weren’t elevated. They were the exception, not the rule.

Now? It’s become acceptable to be the “donkey.” Trampling others, dismissing reputations, publicly deriding opponents — all excused if you “get results.” Make money, pass legislation, build something impressive, or even just convince people you’ve done those things — and suddenly the behavior is justified.

The ends justify the means. Right?

The sad truth: narcissism often wears a charming mask. These individuals can be magnetic, disarming, even inspiring — until they’ve extracted what they want. After that, you’re invisible. Stand up to them? That’s when the claws come out. Retribution isn’t a possibility, it’s a guarantee.

Machiavelli’s Shadow

Why has this become en vogue? Because it works — at least in the short term. Narcissism is intoxicating. It projects power. It attracts those who feel powerless.

It echoes Machiavelli’s The Prince, which advised rulers to appear virtuous while wielding cunning, pragmatism, and manipulation to hold power. Over centuries, “Machiavellian” became shorthand for a style of leadership where the outcome matters more than the morality of the means.

This isn’t new. What’s new is our willingness to applaud it.

We used to parody this behavior. Cartoons like South Park gave us Eric Cartman as a caricature of narcissism — grandiose, manipulative, exploitative, devoid of empathy. We laughed at the absurdity.

Now the parody has become reality.

What Now?

That’s the question. If narcissism and Machiavellian tactics are rewarded in culture, politics, and business, how do we respond? Do we keep celebrating charm without conscience? Or do we start calling it out for what it is?

Because if the parody becomes the truth, the joke’s on us.

Who Cares Wins

“Only one team is happy at the end of the year.“

– Mike Shanahan

I recently finished watching another season of The Quarterback on Netflix.

Why share this?

Because after two seasons following the journeys of five NFL quarterbacks (Kirk Cousins was featured in both), I was reminded yet again that success doesn’t happen by accident.

And more importantly—it’s not just about winning or stacking achievements. It’s about showing up, putting in the reps, and enjoying the process of growth.

What really struck me was how, inside these high-performance environments we so often admire, character is the real currency. The men who thrive are the ones who hold themselves to a higher standard—not just on the field, but in the way they treat people.

It was there in the way Joe Burrow could laugh and chat with referees, treating them with respect instead of disdain. It was in Kirk Cousins, coming home after learning he would no longer be the starting quarterback for the Falcons—an enormous blow for any veteran—and still finding the grace to play football with his young sons in the rec room. It was in Jared Goff, walking quietly through the woods with his wife, reflecting on what they’ve accomplished together.

You could see it in the way all of them showed genuine gratitude to their offensive linemen—not because it’s expected, but because they truly mean it. 

It was there when Cousins returned to Minnesota, embraced former teammates and coaches, and reconnected with old friends, even after a loss. Or when Marcus Mariota, deep in the uncertainty of a career transition, strolled along a beach with his wife and baby, stopping to talk with a few women passing by. Or watching Patrick Mahomes treat everyone—teammates, coaches, staff—with steady kindness and class.

Different men. Different styles of play. Different paths to the top. Joe Burrow didn’t even have a great arm in high school. Jared Goff was drafted by the Rams, traded to the Lions, and chose to make the best of it, helping build belief in a long-struggling franchise. Some are master passers, others great decision-makers, others phenomenal athletes. All of them have some mix of these skills—or they wouldn’t be starting quarterbacks in the NFL.

But the common thread? Character. How you carry yourself. How you treat your family. How you embrace your friends. You can be a warrior and a leader, fight for every yard, and still be kind. There’s no need to belittle, berate, or boast. Let your work do the talking, and your character do the walking.

I think about Jared Goff, walking up the tunnel after losing a home playoff game, giving a lineman a pat on the back and saying, “Appreciate you, man,” only to hear, “I’m so sorry” in return. Or that same Goff, holding his wife’s hand during their baby’s ultrasound, talking about fatherhood and the new purpose it would bring.

I think about Kirk Cousins recalling something Mike Shanahan told him in his rookie year: “Only one team is happy at the end of the year.” In a sport where only one quarterback gets to hoist the Lombardi Trophy, failure is far more common than ultimate victory. And yet, Cousins, Goff, and the rest keep showing up, learning, exploring what’s possible, and staying grateful for the opportunity to do what they love in front of the fans who love them.

That’s what this show left me with—success is imperfect, unpredictable, and often hard to measure. But if you keep your character intact, treat people with respect, and live in gratitude, you’ve already won.

So I’ll leave you with this: How are you staying true to a character of kindness and consideration?