The View Was There the Whole Time

Back in 2019 I was on a mountain road in Morocco when my body decided it didn't want to cooperate with me.

It started as dizziness. I figured it was the roads, which were barely roads. It was more like a dirt path where someone figured a road might go someday. We were winding up the Atlas Mountains in a car I had zero control over. Our guide was driving. I was in the back, my sister, Haviland next to me. We were headed to the Sahara to spend time with the Berbers, and I was feeling very adventurous, worldly and wise about the whole thing.

That feeling didn't last long.

The dizziness became nausea. And the nausea became an emergency.

My first thought: it'll go away. Classic. Push through. Handle it. Keep moving.

My second thought: oh no, not here, not now. Not on a mountain road that barely exists on maps.

My third thought wasn't really a thought. It was more of a biological announcement: this is happening now and you have no say in the matter.

We found a place to pull over. Literally the only place. On top of the mountain, there was a small, picturesque compound where nuns made rose oil.

I defiled it.

I'll spare you the details, but picture the most composed, strategic, handle-anything version of me… and then picture the opposite of that, in the nuns' bathroom, in Morocco, praying to whatever God they were praying to that this would end before I died on a mountain surrounded by rose petals.

There was nothing I could do.

I couldn't talk my way out of it. I didn't speak the language.

I couldn't think my way out of it. There's no strategy for food poisoning at altitude.

I couldn't charm anyone, manage anyone's perception of me, or appear to have even a shred of it under control.

I was just a guy, a very sick guy, very far from home with absolutely nothing working.

So I did the only thing available to me. I sat there. And I waited for it to pass.

But more shifted in that moment than my insides.

Nothing earth-shaking happened. I just ran out of ways to manage the moment. And when the managing stopped, I started to notice things I couldn't see while I was busy trying to fix everything.

The nuns were incredibly kind. They brought me something for my stomach. There was no shared language, and it didn't matter. They just helped. People I had never met, in a place I had never been, offered something I hadn't asked for and couldn't have arranged.

And when I finally looked up, actually looked up, the view from that mountain was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen: the opening of the Sahara Desert, spread out below. It was there the entire time. I just couldn't see it while I was focused on controlling the situation. Which, to be fair, was a situation that involved the nuns' bathroom. So I did have my reasons.

I'll never forget that experience, because it was viscerally real. Honest. Not by choice. By the complete absence of any other option.

It's also a pattern.

When strategy, control and performance all stopped working, three things showed up.

Help I didn't arrange.

Beauty I couldn't see while managing.

And a version of me that wasn't performing.

All of it underneath management and control. After years of leading people into this exact territory, on mountains, in retreats, and in rooms where the usual rules don't apply, I can tell you the pattern is always the same.

You're in luck, because you don't need food poisoning in Morocco to recognize it. You've felt it, though. The meeting where you didn't have the answer and couldn't fake one fast enough. The moment a relationship went somewhere your usual way of handling things couldn't reach. The stretch where everything that used to work just… stopped.

You didn't get worse in any of those moments.

The conditions changed.

Most of us respond by managing harder. More strategy. More control. A better performance. And the harder you manage, the less you see of what's already there.

June 2027, I'm going back.

Haviland and I are returning to Morocco, where this whole idea started, with a small group of leaders for our 2027 No Matter What Leadership Adventure, June 9 to 17. We'll start in Marrakech, climb the Atlas Mountains to the summit of Jebel Toubkal, the highest point in North Africa, and cross into the Sahara. It's built around exactly what happened to me on that road: getting somewhere your usual ways of operating stop working, and finding out what was underneath them the whole time.

(The itinerary does not include food poisoning, don’t worry.)

Learn more about the retreat

Spots are limited: nomatterwhatadventures.com/adventures/morocco

The view is already there…

Key idea:

When the managing stops, you finally see what it was blocking. Strategy, control and performance are useful, and they also crowd out help you didn't arrange, beauty you can't see while you're busy, and a version of you that isn't performing.

Takeaway:

The next time your usual approach stops working, don't reach for a harder version of it. Stop for a minute and look up.

Build your movement:

Where are you managing so hard right now that you can't see what's already there?

Key idea:

Takeaway:

Build your movement:

The Power of Being Last