In August, our Strategic Leadership group took on one of the most personal and uncomfortable questions a leader can face: Why should anyone be led by you?

It’s deceptively simple, yet it cuts straight to the heart of leadership. It’s not asking what your job title is, or how many years of experience you have. It’s asking why another human being, with choices and agency, should choose to follow you. I asked participants to find their own answer and then to say it out loud, in front of their peers.

Some went looking for the answer in their personal values, others in their skills and track record, others still in their vision for the future. Many wrestled with the discomfort of making their implicit strengths explicit. For some, the challenge was vulnerability: showing a little more of themselves than they usually do in a professional setting.

Breakthroughs came:

Moments when a leader’s statement shifted from a safe, generic description into something unmistakably personal. When you could feel the rest of the room lean in. A story. A contradiction. A glimpse of humility alongside strength. The point where self-awareness met self-confidence.

By the end, the group had experienced glimpses of what Goffee & Jones describe so well:
·     Great leaders reveal their differences.
·     They selectively show their weaknesses.
·     They focus on how their behaviour shows up for others.

Leadership is building the trust and connection that makes followership possible. And that starts with being able to answer, with clarity and conviction, for yourself first, why anyone should be led by you.

Reflection for you:
If you had to answer that question right now, without preparation, what would you say? 
Would it be a list of skills, a story, a set of values? And most importantly: would your team agree?

Read more in Goffee, R., & Jones, G. (2006). Why should anyone be led by you? What it takes to be an authentic leader. Harvard Business Review Press

 

If you try to calculate the business case for networking, you will never do any networking. Measured hour by hour, it always looks like a loss. No contract signed. No offer received. No promotion secured. Just another coffee, another conversation, another name on a list.

 

And yet, leaders who keep showing up in those conversations know something. They know that networking is not about efficiency. It is about faith. Faith that relationships precede results. Faith that trust takes time. Faith that serendipity cannot be scheduled.

 

The irony is, the moment you need your network, it is too late to start building one. A network is not an asset you acquire when necessary. It is a community you nurture when unnecessary.

 

So why do we struggle with it? Because it feels unproductive. Because it resists measurement. Because it asks us to embrace uncertainty in a world that tells us to maximise certainty…

 

When people think of feedback, they often imagine words: a performance review, a comment from a manager, a colleague’s suggestion after a meeting. But much of the most important feedback we receive isn’t spoken at all. We pick it up with our eyes.

 

Look around during your next meeting. Notice when people lean in and when they lean back. See the nods of encouragement, or the glazed expressions when attention drifts. Observe the crossed arms, the raised eyebrow, the smile that lingers a second too long or disappears too quickly. This is feedback. It may not be intentional, but it is real. The room is always telling you something, if you are willing to see it.

 

Words are deliberate. But visual cues often bypass filters. Someone might say, “That was a great presentation,” while their body signals impatience or disinterest. Conversely, a colleague might offer minimal verbal praise but beam with energy when you speak. Which one feels more truthful?

 

Visual feedback matters because it is immediate, unpolished, and often closer to what people really feel. Leaders and professionals who rely only on verbal feedback are missing half the story.

 

The challenge is not just to hear feedback but to see it. Here are a few practices to sharpen this skill:

-Scan for energy. Who looks more alive when you speak? Who seems to shut down?

-Notice congruence. Do people’s expressions match their words?

-Pay attention to silence. Sometimes the absence of reaction is the loudest feedback.

-Look for patterns. A single glance away might mean nothing. Repeated gestures tell you something important.

 

In leadership and in life, people won’t always tell you what they think. But they will show you. Their posture, expressions, and presence give you feedback every day. So the real question is: are you noticing?

 

Feedback doesn’t just arrive in formal reviews or carefully worded comments. It arrives in the look across the table, in the eyes of your team, in the atmosphere of the room.

 

I often walk along this corridor to the classroom at SP Jain School of Global Management - Dubai, Mumbai, Singapore & Sydney. It prompts me to reflect because the corridor has two kinds of openings. One side is a wide arch, permanently open, letting in the light and the breeze without anyone asking. On the other, a hinged window, closed unless someone chooses to push it open.

 

Do you want your awareness to be like the wide-open arch: permanent, effortless, always scanning? Or like the hinged window: opened with intention when the situation demands it, then closed when it is time to focus inward?

There is no single, right answer. The key is knowing which mode you are in and why.

 

➖ Permanent openness means you are always attuned. You pick up micro-signals, shifts in tone, and emerging patterns without trying. It is a gift but it can be exhausting if you never close the window to rest.

 

➖ Intentional openness means you decide when to tune in deeply. You conserve your attention, then open wide when it matters: during a critical meeting, in a feedback conversation, or when stakes are high. It is more sustainable, but it requires discipline to know when you might be missing something important.

 

I was lost in thought, until that quiet red glow prompted me: The top is near. Prepare to step off the escalator.

How often do our careers whisper the same? Not with a crisis or applause, but with a subtle change in tempo. An internal tug. A growing mismatch between who we are and the game we are still playing.

We are taught to climb: faster, higher, endlessly. But the truth is, every role, every phase, has an end. Not a failure, not a defeat. An end. Even the most glittering seasons of our work eventually ask to be let go of, if we are to remain alive in what we do.

The question is not whether the ride will end.
The question is: Will you notice the red light before it passes underfoot?

Will you honour the feeling that the challenge no longer feels like a calling, but a cage? Will you allow the restlessness to become reflection, and then direction? Will you have the courage to prepare before you must?

Too many leaders stay on too long. Not because they don’t feel the shift, but because they have confused endurance with wisdom, and loyalty with growth. But presence is not about staying. It is about being attuned to others, yes, but first to ourselves.

So, if your days have started to feel heavier, if your mornings quieter, your pride more hollow,  pay attention. That may be your red light. Not a danger sign, but a reminder that you are not just here to climb. You are here to move on with dignity, clarity, and a story worth telling.

Reflection:
What could the red light in your current season of work be trying to tell you?
And what small step can you take now to get ready for the next level?

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