Now, to be clear, I am not advocating for anyone to do those things. But bear with me.

A colleague of mine who was with us then asked us with genuine curiosity, “So what was the objective of those activities?”

I stared blankly for a moment before my friend jumped in and answered, “There isn’t any. Why do you need an objective?”

Sure, we can take out our clipboards and analyze the unconscious motivations behind my braindead escapades, but the point is, there’s a lot in life we do without explicit goals.

Modern culture is all about objectives and KPIs. Mission statements and reasoning.

All valuable stuff.

But as I travel the world working with people of all ages, I’m noticing a trend I felt was less common in the past:

People aren’t as spontaneous or adventurous as they used to be.

There was far less certainty in the past, and paradoxically, there was also security in that uncertainty.

But in a world where an optimal, evidence-based answer is provided instantaneously with a single prompt, it seems there are far fewer occurrences where we just act on a whim, or enjoy some unplanned exploration.

I work with many clients who need a clear purpose, an explicit goal, just to try something new.

There is even a fear of doing so. I work with youth around the world and many won’t even try something as simple as talking to someone new or trying a new activity without evidence and assurance that it’s going to “work”.

We Develop as Adults When We See Ourselves

In the context of adult development theory, we develop as adults when we begin to objectively see our own assumptions.

For example, an assumption I held for a long time is “It’s always best to solve a problem as fast as possible, before it gets bigger.”

Running on that assumption, I was always putting out fires, acting early and often acting alone. Perhaps it worked for me and my personal achievements, but how was it affecting my team? I was reducing opportunities for others to learn and navigate challenges. I was taking responsibility and collaborative experiences away from others.

Often it takes a painful experience, a major setback, for us to begin seeing our own assumptions and their limitations.

But there’s also a less painful way: putting ourselves in unfamiliar situations.

How Goals Can Blind Us

Goals and objectives are wonderful for helping us focus. They can bring a team together. It helps us get to where we need to go.

But it can also narrow our field of vision. The time-limited nature of objectives will naturally force us to optimize and settle on a small range of best practices.

Naturally, it puts us on a well-defined path that we become very familiar with over time.

We stop trying “less efficient” and “slower” methods. We won’t dare try something that seems completely unrelated to the objective.

And this isn’t just at work. Modern-day fun is heavily reliant on existing online reviews, pre-planned trips, and optimized use of time and money.

What we lose in the process is the discovery of something completely new, completely unfamiliar: the very thing that helps us see that maybe the assumptions we hold aren’t always true.

I’m not saying we should throw away our goals and objectives.

But maybe we can step back from them a little more often to see that there’s a much greater world out there.

Thanks for reading.
I’m curious to know: What do you do to step back and see the world afresh?

Until next time,

TK

FYI: I offer developmental coaching to help people see their own assumptions. If this is something that interests you, feel free to read more and reach out here:

reintegral.com

You can also take my free assessment below to learn more about how you can develop as an adult to live more fluidly in a world of increasing complexity.

Your Developmental Snapshot

As a child, when you walked into a forest, you probably remember having a natural desire to explore it.

You picked up sticks, looked under rocks, crawled up to see what was over the ridge.

Or perhaps if it wasn’t a forest, it was at a museum, or a friend’s house you were visiting for the first time. There’s a natural desire to explore the unknown.

Do you remember what travel was like before the internet? If not, perhaps you’ve heard from older family members.

You could make a call to book some of the transportation and accommodation, but after that, it was dealing with whatever came up. There were no online reviews. There were no video blogs about the cool spots. You go there, meet new people, find new things and deal with the hiccups along the way. It wasn’t that far off from exploring the forest as a kid.

There are still the rare backpackers who travel this way, but most of us today will use GPS to get around instead of asking local people for directions. We choose restaurants based on the number of stars they have. We go to the talked-about locations and as a result rarely discover the ones no one has mentioned.

Yes, the pre-planned, peer-reviewed, cookie-cutter travel is safer.
Yes, there are fewer issues and risks.

But what have we given up along the way?

Humanity as a whole had a deeper tolerance for uncertainty. We were more comfortable with unpredictability and strange occurrences, because they happened all the time. And we were better able to handle them when they happened.

We had a stronger survival instinct. We could sniff out something suspicious. We acutely used our eyes and ears to notice potential trouble. And a higher gear of thinking would kick in when the trouble came, and we’d figure out ways to resolve it, through cleverness and collaboration. Now we just complain and write a bad review if things don’t go exactly as expected.

And this isn’t just about travel.

Our schedules are set to the minute, and publicly viewable to our bosses and colleagues. We have countless written rules and unspoken agreements that define how we act and behave, which if we break, carry the very real risk of being publicly shared online forever. And on weekends, well, it’s just like the travel we talked about earlier.

Again, there are benefits to structure.

But what have we given up along the way?

Uncertainty used to be more ubiquitous. It used to be more normalized. We used to be more comfortable with it.

Uncertainty is where we discover, learn and grow. It is where we learn to sharpen our senses. It is where we have the eye-opening and exhilarating 'a-ha’ moments. It is where we have the serendipitous encounters that change our life trajectory.

In today’s world, excessive control and rigidity have been relabeled as comfort and convenience. In so many areas of our lives, we have signed silent contracts that trap us in stale repetitions.

And here is a thought that can be really hard to understand because of how we’ve been conditioned.

There is security in uncertainty.

When we can only do what is familiar or pre-ordained, we’re prisoners to our conditioning. When we can only decide when there are enough voices to back it up, including anonymous online ones, we’re prisoners to conformity. When we stop trying because of an unfortunate experience in our past, we’re prisoners to our history.

But when we can step forward regardless of our past; when the past becomes a resource, not a shackle; then that’s a form of freedom. There is security in knowing we don’t have to be weighed down by our past conditioning.

And similarly with our future. We often sit in anxiety about the future, especially when our routines and conditioning do not provide a clear go-to answer. We then try to escape the anxiety by transferring responsibility or avoiding the issue altogether.

And even when we do have a clear-cut answer, that in itself can keep us rigid. When problem A shows up, we apply Solution A. It becomes an automated response. What we lose in the process is exploring the infinite other possible solutions.

But if we stop forcing pre-ordained solutions, when we stop needing a past example to step forward, therein lies another form of freedom. And there is security in being free of rigid blueprints. There is security in fundamentally knowing you will grow and learn by fluidly adapting to a constantly changing world.

There is security in freeing ourselves of the anxieties of our past and future.

And that security comes from letting go of our need to control, and anchoring ourselves in the present. That security comes from accepting uncertainty as a natural and fundamental component of our universe.

Just like we innately knew how to do when wandering the forest as kids.

And it’s something we can relearn. Something we can practice. It isn’t easy, and I myself am very much walking the long path of learning, but I can assure you our natural senses, and our comfort with change and uncertainty is something we have inside that we can reawaken little by little.

The simplest practice is to start with a breath. Anchor into the present. Let go of the need to know and control everything. Then try to look at your current obstacle as an opportunity for something new to emerge.

And when your brain tells you “That’s impossible”, acknowledge the fear, then take another breath. Rinse and repeat.

Thanks for reading. And I’m curious to know: what are ways that have helped you be at peace with uncertainty?

If this is something you’ve been struggling with, I help people unshackle from old (and no longer helpful) assumptions, and finding peace in uncertainty. If this is something that interests you, feel free to read more and reach out here:

https://reintegral.com/

You can also take my free assessment below to learn more about how you can develop as an adult to live more fluidly in a world of increasing complexity.

Your Developmental Snapshot

Until next time,

TK

For further reading,

Before my career in training, teaching and coaching, I used to perform on stage.

I’d play a character. I would infuse it with elements of my personality, but still a character I would switch on as I walked on stage, and turn off after the applause (or on sad occasions, crickets).

But regardless of whether you’ve had experiences in music, art or theater, you already know what it’s like to play a role.

The parent. The partner. The daughter and son.
The hard worker. The thoughtful leader.
The fashionable colleague. The funny friend.

Whatever they may be, we artfully transition between these roles depending on who we’re with. We change our costumes, our words, our expressions.

We want to look intelligent or strong.
Or perhaps someone who garners sympathy from others.
We want to feel accepted, validated, significant.

They’re conditioned behaviors that we’ve acquired through life.
And there’s nothing wrong with playing roles.
They’ve helped us survive, be a part of communities, be responsible contributors.

But who is the person behind the roles? And how much time in your day do you spend just being that person? Being you? Just being?

When there is no one left to perform for, when you are quietly reading alone at home, wandering the city at night, or just being unguardedly silly… who are you?

Without the title, the duties and responsibilities… who is actually driving the machine? And how much are you allowing them to breathe?

The Withdrawal Symptoms of Not Playing Roles

When we sit in absolute stillness and just be, the heavy, armored roles we wear all day finally come off. It’s usually peaceful.

The problem for many successful, high-performing adults is that we’ve been busy playing our roles for so long, we’ve forgotten the person underneath. We mistake the armor for our skin.

And when the armor becomes the skin, those quiet, solitary moments when the checklist is done, the people are gone, and the screens are shut off… it can actually feel uncomfortable. In the beginning, it doesn’t feel relaxing at all. It can feel deeply anxious, or even depressing.

We might experience a sudden bout of nihilism, a creeping sensation that nothing has meaning. To escape that void, we might instinctively drown ourselves in doom-scrolling, a numbing drink, or bingeable shows we don’t even care about. Or just more work.

I don’t think this is just about the distractions of our modern world. I think that often, they’re withdrawal symptoms from the drug of playing our personas.

The validation, and the sense of progress and worth we get from playing our roles can be intoxicating. But when we’ve identified so closely with those roles, when the validating feedback loop stops, the silence is deafening.

Sometimes it can take days, weeks, or even months of deliberate un-plugging before we actually feel comfortable in our own unembellished presence again.

Shifting from Being the Role to Having the Role

According to Adult Development Theory, we develop when we stop “being” a role, and shift to “having” them. When we are our roles, if we fail as a leader, we believe we are a failure as a person. Our identity is fused with the expectations of our board, our spouse, or our culture.

But as we develop, a shift happens. We begin to separate the actor from the character. We don’t throw away or deny the roles we inevitably play in life. But there’s an intention behind them now. We choose to wear them if and when we find it appropriate. We start to see that even if we mess something up in that role, there is still an intact “me” behind that role.

If we cultivate a regular practice of returning to ourselves, be it through deliberate silence, a creative hobby, or other centering practices, this new internal architecture begins to take shape.

We realize that we can always access the quiet, foundational version of ourselves, and when this becomes the norm, the ‘withdrawal’ symptoms subside, and it becomes what it is meant to be: an infinite resource.

This doesn’t mean we stop engaging with the world. We’ll still step into high-pressure meetings. We’ll still mediate or be dead-center in an argument. We’ll still walk on stage in front of a room full of people who aren’t necessarily our fans. Many of the roles will always be there.

But something fundamental changes: there is a conscious “you” behind the role, watching yourself play the part.

A Practice to Return To Yourself

There is an incredible lightness when we are no longer fused to our personas and roles.

It is like having a conscious home that we can return to- a core that we know is calm, peaceful, and fully worthy, regardless of whether your persona gets a standing ovation or bombs the presentation. Our internal stability is no longer tied to external outcomes.

And interestingly, this is also when we become most effective. When our identity isn’t on the line in every meeting, we stop over-reacting. We judge a little less. Curiosity blossoms and we start asking different questions.

The Mini-Practice for the Week: Find 15 minutes of absolute quiet. No phone, no input, no tasks. When the withdrawal anxiety kicks in - when your brain screams at you to check your email or open YouTube - just notice it. Ask yourself what persona is demanding that you break the silence.

And then gently, remind yourself that the persona/role/armor is not you.

Related readings:

How do you navigate the roles you play? How do you find peace in the process? Please do let me know in the comments.

If you’re feeling stuck or lost because you know the roles are weighing on you, but don’t know how to let go in a healthy way, feel free to reach out. The transition is what I support people in doing.

Feel free to take the 2-Minute developmental snapshot below to find out where you might be stuck.

Your Developmental Assessment

Who this article is for:

• People interested in how adult development dynamics show up in life

• Anyone interested in parenting, relationships or education

Imagine a parent, let’s call him Ken. He has a daughter entering the teenage years, and he is worried for her safety. Ken knows his daughter has plenty of rebellious peers who wouldn’t hesitate to put her under social pressure to do foolish and potentially dangerous things.

As a preventative measure, Ken’s wife believes it is important to set a curfew, and strict consequences for not sticking to the curfew. His wife has asked Ken to impart the new rules to their daughter. Ken agrees.

But here’s the thing. Ken dreads his daughter’s anger. He’s already picturing the conversation ending with her saying “I hate you, you’re ruining my life!"

………

Most people will have some kind of reaction to this little story so far. Some might think “I feel that. I would hate for my kids to hate me. I’d feel pretty stuck.” Others may think “Her safety is most important. Being the ‘bad guy’ is a small price to pay for that.”

But what I’m hoping to explore with you is not whether curfews are effective or appropriate, or what the ‘best’ way to parent is (definitely not opening up that can of worms right now). Rather, I’m hoping to explore why a person like Ken might feel stuck and how that relates to our own ways of navigating our relationships.

We Can Be Bound to Our Relationships

For Ken, if his daughter says “I hate you” that feels to him like a very real loss of love and connection.

If he knows that is coming, he may very well cave in and ‘loosen’ or even abandon the new rules he is supposed to put in place.

This is because in certain phases of our development as adults we are ‘bound’ to our relationships. We are our relationships. When an important relationship falls apart, it feels like our whole lives, even our own identity is falling apart.

Interpersonal harmony is a high-priority must when we are in this phase, which some developmental psychologists like Robert Kegan call the Socialized Mind.

But let’s get back to Ken. What complicates things further for him, is that he agreed with his wife to inform their daughter of the curfew. Not putting his foot down is now going to upset his wife.

For him, he’s stuck between two equally undesirable situations. Whether he imparts the news or not, he’s going to upset someone. And for him, upsetting someone important to him feels devastating.

Have you seen or experienced a situation like this?

What I have observed most often with people in situations like this, is that “Ken” will first try to wait and delay. “Maybe my wife will go ahead and have the conversation instead.” Or “maybe if I wait a few days my daughter will be in a particularly open and pleasant mood where she’ll be more accepting of the idea.”

When We Develop a Different Relationship with Relationships

As we develop we can become ‘unbound' or ‘unfused’ from our relationships. These words often elicit reactions and misunderstandings. It can sound cold. It can sound like devaluing relationships or promoting isolation.

In the context of adult development, however, that is not at all what this means. In fact it can enrich and strengthen our relationships.

According to adult development theory, when we develop as adults, we begin to have relationships, instead of being held by them. Let’s explore what this means with Ken as an example.

Ken feels like his world falls apart when an important relationship starts to falter. What is ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ in his everyday decision making is often determined by what the relationship deems is best (‘relationship’ can mean a bond with a specific person, or with something broader like the company he works for, the religion he is faithful to, or the team/culture/nation to whom he is loyal.)

But as we develop characteristics of what is called the Self-Authoring mind, we develop our own set of “rights and wrongs” that may be informed by, but is independent of the many relationships in our lives.

Let’s say that in the context of the story, Ken develops his own set of self-authored values and firmly believes: “reducing the risk to my daughter’s safety is far more important than me being disliked by her.”

Then you can imagine it’d be easier for him to set a strict curfew regardless of his daughter’s reaction. His daughter is safer, his wife is happier.

But it’s not just the setting of values that is important here (Ken can do that even if he were purely in the Socialized Mind).

What makes him able to “be the bad guy” for something more important, is his unbinding from his relationship with his daughter. That sounds terrible out of context but again, this does not mean he is abandoning the relationship or cares less about his daughter. Quite the opposite.

It means his identity is not completely bound to the relationship. Even if his daughter temporarily gets upset at him, it doesn’t make his world fall apart. Even under the wrath of his daughter there is still a “Ken” who is fully intact, and can confidently say “my daughter being upset with me isn’t pleasant, but I firmly believe this is best for her safety and I am comfortable in my decision.”

It Lets Us Make Our Own Decisions

Imagine if Ken lived his whole life terrified of disharmony, disagreement and conflict with his daughter or wife. Imagine he never develops his own principles, and decides everything based solely on what wouldn’t upset his family.

Imagine what happens every time his wife and daughter are disagreeing with each other over something. Ken would very likely “agree” with both of them, flip-flop in his decisions, wait for too long, and potentially cause a lot of frustration and eventual loss of respect from his wife and daughter.

And while we talked about a specific parenting example here, you can imagine these dynamics show up in our relationships everywhere: with our partners, parents, bosses, friends, communities, etc.

When we have relationships, instead of our relationships having us, we can make decisions that actually strengthen the bond and resilience of the very relationships we have. And when necessary we can also set boundaries to protect our own safety and wellbeing, as well as the longer term safety of our relationships.

What Came Up for You?

I am curious what bells rang for you. How have similar situations showed up in your life? How have you been navigating them? I’d love to hear in the comments.

Until next time,

TK

For further reading:

Take the free 2-minute Mental OS Assessment to identify where you may be on your developmental journey.

Your Developmental Snapshot

Spend a day monitoring your thoughts, and you’ll see how much time we spend in the future or past.

We wonder what will happen if we say that or do this. We play out scenarios in our head, usually the anxiety-inducing ones. In those moments we live in a self-created future.

Or, we think about that thing we said or did yesterday. “How embarrassing, how stupid. I really should have said or done that instead.” We replay the scene, loop our misery, and live in our past.

Now, thinking of our past and future isn’t inherently without value. The fabric of our hopes and goals is made of our thoughts of the future. And lessons and memories are built from each moment in our past.

The issues only arise when we get attached to them in an unhealthy way.

But regardless of how we think about our past or future, it still remains an activity of the mind. We aren’t actually in the future or past. They are pictures, games and thoughts our mind creates.

But then what is the present made out of? Think about that for a moment.

When we strip away the mind’s infatuation with the future and past, and we just sit purely in the present... what is that?

At its surface, it’s pure perception. We see the eyes of those we are with. We hear the rustling of the leaves. We feel the cushion of our seats. We taste and smell the summer air.

But there is always an “I” that is doing the hearing and the seeing.

So we’ve let go of the future, we’ve let go of the past. In addition, what if we strip away the thoughts, the labels, the feelings? What’s left?

It’s just pure consciousness.

It’s a home that we can always return to. It’s always there.

Behind all the emotions, thoughts and our five senses... something just is. Not something that is “good” nor “bad”, nor happy, sad or anxious. We just are.

And in that presence we are free. Free from the worry of a future that has not happened. Free from the regret of yesterday’s actions.

And when we practice returning to that state of just being, we can carry that calm back into our everyday interactions. It shows up as:

• Listening with calmness and empathy.

• Doing with intention and focus.

• Learning with openness and curiosity.

We are in a present flow, undistracted.

No matter how high or low the circumstances may be, we can bring to them our full presence, awareness, attention and being.

We can carry with us the lesson of the past, and hopes for our future, but we don’t have to live in them. We can acknowledge them and use them to set an intention, without being attached to any particular outcome. We can let go of them and return fully into the present.

Imagine we did that with every moment.

We can attain the money, the perfect partner, the dream house, the promotion, the time and the love. But if we remain helplessly attached to our future and our past, we’re always wishing for more, always regretting every imperfect decision, no matter how wonderful our present moment may be. If that is our state, are we really free?

You may know I typically write about moving out of stuckness, living with a sense of purpose, and developing and expanding as an adult. But ultimately I do think all of these things are closely linked to our ability to step back from that which holds us, even temporarily, and to return fully into being.

That practice is what helps intuition arrive (and get us out of stuckness). That practice is what helps us feel where we naturally gravitate toward (and feel alive with purpose). That practice is what helps us make object that which we have been subject to (and help us develop as adults).

And it’s a lifelong practice (trust me, I’ve got a whole lot of work to do in being present; you can ask anyone who knows me).

But little by little, day by day, when we practice, the lens through which we see ourselves and the world gets just a little bigger, softer, deeper and more flexible.

And what is the practice?

I think in its simplest form, it is breathing, noticing our thoughts and feelings, letting them go, and returning to just being…

…until eventually returning to the present and to ourselves, becomes something we can more easily access.

And when we return to that state of being, we’re better able to step back from the chains of our future and past, and the constricting grip of our judgements.

We tap into a wisdom we already have. And little by little life expands. We feel more alive than we did before. We find peace beyond the anxiety, more love in each joy, and clarity within the complexity.

So take that breath when you need it. It’s always there for you.

Until next time,

TK

Thanks for reading. Below is a free, 2-minute “Mental OS Assessment” that gives you a snapshot of what you might be ‘subject’ to. It comes with more information on adult development theory, and how I can personally help you navigate stuckness.

Your Developmental Assessment

Depending on where you live, acupuncture has a mixed reputation. In the West, it’s often relegated to the fringes of alternative wellness. But in Japan, you won’t find a neighborhood without an acupuncture clinic. Some local governments even subsidize the cost for you.

A while back, I developed a sharp, chronic pain in my right wrist. It started to hurt enough I’d hesitate to even type or do basic chores. Naturally, I went to a series of traditional doctors. They took X-rays, isolated the joint, and gave me a definitive diagnosis.

But no matter how many doctors I saw, the pain kept returning. And every doctor gave me the same solution: pain medication. “Take the pills, reduce the inflammation, and the pain will go away,” they’d say.

Except it didn’t. The moment the pills ran out, the grinding returned. Worse, because the medication numbed the symptom, I couldn’t feel when I was putting weight on my hand in ways that actively damaged my arm.

Eventually, out of frustration, I went to see an acupuncturist who doubled as a sports therapist. I told him my wrist needed fixing.

He glanced at it, nodded, and then completely ignored it.

Instead, he started treating the side of my forearm, massaging the deep tissue, stretching the ligaments. What I realized was that there was pain in my forearm too, but it was being masked by the more acute pain in my wrist. He placed a couple needles in my forearm, then told me we were done for the day.

I left a little unsatisfied, but by the next week, the pain in my forearm was completely gone…but the ache had suddenly migrated up to my elbow.

So, on session two, we treated the elbow. Still, he didn’t touch the wrist.

By session three, the elbow was clear, but a dull discomfort had shown up in the palm of my hand. The next week, it was in my shoulder. The week after that, it was tied in a knot in my upper back. The pain was moving around my upper body like it was alive.

Then, on the sixth week, I walked into his office, sat down, and realized nothing hurt. Not even the wrist, which he rarely touched.

After a month and a half of treatment, he had rarely touched the actual symptom. And I hadn’t taken a single pill.

What Seems Unrelated May Be the Cause

What my acupuncturist understood was that my wrist was entirely innocent. It didn’t hurt because it was damaged; it hurt because it was overcompensating for imbalances in my back, shoulder, and forearm.

Because those larger muscle groups were locked up and out of alignment, the strain rolled down the kinetic chain until it hit the weakest, most vulnerable joint at the end of the line. The wrist was simply the place where the stress finally broke through the surface.

Our modern cultural landscape is heavily biased toward the painkiller approach. We love quick fixes and overnight hacks. But sometimes all they do is keep us running in place, and give us the illusion of progress.

And we don’t just do this to our bodies. We do it to our relationships, our organizations, and our own development.

• In Relationships: Say we don’t like our partner’s way of communicating. So we buy a self-help book on relationships, discuss with our partner better words and phrases to use next time there’s an argument. But does changing the words really solve underlying and undiscussed needs?

• In the Workplace: An employee keeps turning in work that’s messy and late. The direct solution? We send them to an intensive training on time management and technical skills. But does a technical program really solve the invisible interpersonal issues that may be contributing to the problem?

• In Our Own Development: Maybe we want to be a better leader, partner or parent. Maybe we want to get unstuck or feel a greater sense of purpose. So we listen to gurus and read inspirational quotes. But how much is that really changing our behaviors?

Note: My bookshelf is stocked with self-helps books, I’m an organizational trainer, and Spotify regularly streams guru podcasts. So not saying that there is anything fundamentally wrong with these solutions.

But sometimes these direct, localized fixes are just a temporary band-aid. Almost like painting over a wet spot in the ceiling, without ever dealing with leaky pipes behind it.

What’s worse is that we can become disillusioned, even frustrated with these fixes because they do so little. It starts to feel like a waste of time. And sometimes, like the painkillers for my wrist, it really does just mask and indirectly exacerbate the issue.

Choosing the “Longer” Way Forward

Sometimes getting unstuck requires the willingness to take our eyes off the localized pain point, and look holistically at the whole system. But many of us are conditioned to believe this is the long way around, or ineffective or too much work.

But just like that acupuncturist’s method, what seems slower at first is often the only way out.

Here are a few questions to reflect on any stuckness you may be experiencing:

1. What’s the symptom? What is the specific “symptom” that’s consuming your attention and energy right now? (e.g., a toxic argument pattern with a coworker, a total stall in your personal health habits, or an employee who won’t take initiative.)

2. Trace the Imbalance: If you step back and take a look at the other areas of your life or organization, what hidden deficits might this symptom be compensating for? (e.g., How safe do involved people feel? What conversations are being avoided? What might be quietly enabling the current behaviors?)

3. The Gentle Nudge: What is one small thing you can do to address the imbalances (not the symptoms)? (e.g., Asking a different question? Speaking differently? Releasing some pressure here, to focus more energy there?)

When we allow ourselves to step back and observe, we begin to see the artifacts, power dynamics, emotions and assumptions that drive our own behaviors. And ‘seeing’ is often the first and most important step in allowing old structural tensions to finally drop away.

Yes, it can seem like a lot of work. Too indirect, too resource intensive. But if you really step back, we begin to see that the quick fixes, while fast and cheap in the short-term, compound over time to exhaust far more resources (both tangible ones and internal ones) and end up solving little.

Sometimes, the longest way around is the only way home.

What ineffective quick-fixes have you seen in your world? What was the better way through? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.

Until next time,

TK

If you’re tired of applying temporary painkillers to a long-term structural bottleneck in your career or organization, try this free assessment:

You Developmental Assessment

For further reading:

If a project was stalling, a meeting was wandering, or an unaddressed elephant was in the room, my default behavior was to lean straight into the friction. I would call out the bottle neck, state a path forward and step hard on the gas.

I cringe in retrospect, but on many occasions, this broke deadlocks, bypassed team hesitation, and delivered results.

Every time it worked, my brain logged a win. A neat little success script was written into my mental operating system: Assertiveness gets things done. Conflict is a small price to pay for results.

Over a decade, this behavior hardened. It became my skin and my identity— to the point where whenever people sensed friction in the room, they’d turn to me and say “Hey, TK, tell it how it is.”

I became the go-to person if someone wanted to say something but weren’t comfortable doing so.

That only strengthened my belief that this was a helpful thing to do.

But the very thing I thought was helping me thrive was quietly smothering other aspects of who I was.

The Habits that Smother

Our “go-to” habits can be a little like the English Ivy, an aggressive and typically invasive plant. It grows exceptionally fast and is instantly noticeable. When you want a bare wall or a blank patch of earth covered in green, the ivy is a quick win.

And so we can be tempted to feed it and give it more attention.

But left unchecked, the ivy does something insidious to an ecosystem. It drains trees of their nutrients, blocks shrubs of their sunlight, and destroys homes for other organisms that live in the wood. It’s able to quietly kill off entire forests.

This is similar to how “success” loops operates in adult life.

Whether it’s assertiveness, aloofness, compliance or agreeableness, when a specific behavior yields quick results, we feed it more.

But when the habit spreads across our entire internal landscape, it begins to act like the ivy. It suffocates the slower, quieter, but equally important parts of who we are.

Our Invasive Habits

We all have our own internal ivy. We’ve explored a few of these before, but some common ones include:

• Saying “yes” to avoid conflict

• Overworking to the point of failure

• Judging others as a way of validating ourselves

And countless others.

They can all get us localized wins. And when they work often enough, we begin to ignore any evidence of when they don’t.

But what’s scary is that even if we realize our habits are not as helpful as we had thought… we still continue to do them.

The Cost of Default Behaviors

For most adults, when we evaluate our habits objectively, we can logically discern that some of them are costing us happiness and restricting potential. Yet, we still keep running them.

It’s because these habits aren’t just “bad routines.” They’re a part of a sophisticated, unconscious change-prevention system. Some say “practice makes permanent.” Others say our behaviors stick because they protect long-held assumptions. Still others say our habits are rooted deeply in our unconscious and we can’t just pluck the visible portion of it.

They’re usually all true.

But regardless of how we explain the causes, it’s apparent that some of our habits are costly. When we default to assertiveness, we lose opportunities to hear other voices. When we default to agreeableness, we weaken our sense of agency.

Our habits cost us our ability to grow past the boundaries of how we currently see and interact with the world.

They control the way we behave and make decisions.

For me, my “assertiveness” wasn’t a calling card I had. The calling card had me.

Take the free 2-minute Assessment to explore where you may have invisible ceilings.

Your Developmental Snapshot

Attachment, not the habit, is the issue.

The habits that hold us back or create blind spots aren’t inherently “bad”. The same way the English Ivy isn’t “bad”.

A common reaction when we identify an area of improvement, is trying to rid ourselves completely of the old behavior. But they can still be important parts of a greater ecosystem. In the appropriate context, they may very well be an important contributing factor.

The issues only arise when we attach ourselves to them.

It’s about loosening the grip that the behaviors have on us, so that rather than being controlled by them, we have agency on where and where we apply them.

Bringing awareness to it is an essential first step to loosen that attachment:

1. The Armor: What is the habit/behavior/style that has historically brought you your quickest professional or personal wins? (Ex: Fixing, pleasing, analyzing, judging, etc.)

2. The Tax: If you step back and look honestly at the whole forest of your life, what slower, deeper, less obvious parts of who you are could be suppressed by what you named in Question 1?

3. The Experiment: What is one small, safe way, that you can withhold your default behavior this week, and instead bring forth a different part of who you are? Observe what happens.

Many of our “ivies” were developed in our youth. They helped us thrive, survive and be accepted. But the same things that kept us going then, can be the very things things that prevent us from running free in later adulthood.

It might finally be time to look at the ivy, trace it down to its roots, and clear some space so that the rest of who you are can breathe.

What kind of behavioral “ivy” do you often see in your life or work?
I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.

Until next time,

TK

For further reading:

“I have everything I thought I needed to be happy. A decent career, a good salary. I’m physically healthy, and so is my family. I even have some freedom with my time. By every objective measure, life is good. So why am I unhappy?”

If you have ever found yourself asking this question, and doing a thousand-yard stare after a hard day of work, well, you’re not alone.

This is a loop I have personally returned to many times over my own life.

I have found that a common reaction to this is to feel guilty for the discontent. Or to try to ignore it, assuming it will pass, and just work harder.

But I think most of us intuitively know the feeling only gets worse when we do this.

What Keeps Us Stuck

Through years of facilitating transitions for people (and more importantly, working through many bouts of my own stuckness), I have found that this type of stuckness is usually driven by two these two factors:

1. The Moving Goal Post

We treat satisfaction like a destination, but we continuously rewrite the map. Many of us explicitly or implicitly establish a milestone in our early career: “If I can just hit this income bracket, secure this title, or get this much autonomy, I will finally relax.”

But our brain causes us to normalize our wins very quickly. I know that every time I have moved to a new home or upgraded decor, I feel excited at first. It’s novel and fresh. But a few months later I largely take it for granted and I’m looking for the next upgrade that’ll make things “better”.

It’s the same with our careers. “Sure, this is nice, but I need just a little more money, a little more freedom, a little more scale... then I’ll be happy.”

There’s nothing wrong with goals and ambitions. They move us forward, and help us develop as human beings. But when we attach ourselves to the constantly moving “finish line”, and forget what we do have in the present, it’s difficult for anything to feel like “enough”.

2. Inherited Success Scripts

This is often the more powerful one.

We are often unconsciously attached to a behavioral operating system written by someone else. Long ago, we likely absorbed assumptions about what a “successful life” must look like from our parents, our early bosses and mentors, or work cultures in our formative years. These scripts routinely define success as:

• Being the best in your field/team/organization.

• Accumulating a specific dollar amount in retirement savings.

• Being a particular “type” of person (e.g., agreeable, hard-working, etc.)

Those very goals are what gave us the courage and strength to build the positive things in our lives today. We can be proud of and grateful for those success scripts.

But what felt like success for us before, often doesn’t fit when our lives become more complex (more responsibilities, children, aging parents, health issues, etc.).

Just because a specific script successfully carried you through the first half of your career does not mean you’re required to run it for the rest of your life.

Outgrowing the Training Wheels

I recently watched my child finally get rid of the training wheels on her bike. She was scared at first. After all, they kept her safe and stable, why get rid of them?

Well our success scripts are a little like those training wheels. When they’ve worked so well, it feels too risky to get rid of them.

But as we grow, our environment changes. Our priorities shift. The very training wheels that kept us safe can end up dragging us down.

Getting “unstuck” often happens when we move that success script from “subject” (letting it define how we operate) to “object” (something we can examine, reconsider, adapt).

You step back, place your old definitions of success on the table, and look at them. You realize: “I have an ambition, but I am not my ambition. I can change it, adapt, and choose when or if it influences me.”

Just like my child removing her training wheels, it can be scary to loosen our grip on the old ways of operating. We worry that if we stop running, we won’t just fail, it will invalidate everything we thought was “right”.

But just because we change something doesn’t mean the old way was “wrong”.

And we are far more ready, strong, and capable of handling the post-training-wheel world than we realize.

Shifting Focus Beyond the Peak

When we find the courage to examine our baseline assumptions with curiosity and honesty, we begin the process of an internal shift.

We may realize that we can have a healthy, happy family and experience genuine daily joy right now, even before all the milestones. We may realize that ambition doesn’t have to be an all-or-nothing trap. We can work toward meaningful goals, without tying our safety and identity to them.

You can enjoy the beauty of the hike without being at the peak.

And maybe that’s the actual reality of being alive.

If any of this sounds familiar, you’re not doing anything wrong. You might just be looking at an old script that’s served its purpose, and is ready to be integrated differently.

Curious to explore your own stuckness?
Try this 2-minute assessment.

Your developmental assessment

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When I was a clueless teen (before I evolved into a clueless adult), I trained under loggers in the mountains of rural Japan. I loved working with wood and so I wanted to learn lumberjacking too.

But this wasn’t a typical apprenticeship.

One evening, I was given a simple task: chop wood with an axe for hours in a pitch dark forest, illuminated only by the moon.

As a green noob with terrible technique, my joints and muscles were on fire, and not in a “this is a great work-out” way. I’m pretty sure it kick-started some permanent structural damage that I still deal with today. Anyway, the muscles were just the start.

My soft-skinned hands were a mess of raw blisters that quickly tore open into stinging cuts. I couldn’t see red in the darkness, but I could feel the warmth of blood trickling down to my elbows.

But what bothered me most were the swarms of aggressive mountain mosquitoes that literally coated every exposed skin (FYI: I was in shorts and a T). Their bites swelled fast and itched like none other. It was insanity-inducing.

All the while, my teacher, who was a thin, middle-aged woman with a fraction of my muscle mass (yes, she was a rarity in the industry), worked quietly beside me, chopping way more wood than me, unbothered and barely breaking a sweat.

Before we began, my internal reasons for doing this were clear: I wanted to hone my technique, earn the respect of my teacher, and prove my strength. But under the weight of the swarming insects and the searing pain in my fingers, those reasons dissolved into irrelevance. I just wanted the night to end.

Yet, because my teacher kept moving, I kept moving too.

And what I never anticipated, was that I entered a strange, floating state of consciousness. Somewhere in those hellish hours, a gap widened between the raw sensation of the blood, blisters and bites, and… “me”.

It was an internal surrender, not in a “I don’t give a #@$& anymore” way, but one of quiet, whole, non-judgmental acceptance. I realized I could notice the discomfort without letting it spiral into anger, despair or ruminations. And when I did, the pain receded, and I could stay in a state of calm, unbothered focus.

When we finally finished and piled our axes and bodies back into the truck to head home, my teacher looked at my swollen legs and arms in horror.

“What is that?” she gasped. “Why didn’t you say something? I had bug spray the whole time.”

(Note: the blood didn’t bother her, I guess that was a pretty standard occurrence for the rookies).

I came into that evening with my own definitions of why I should do all that wood-chopping; it’s purpose, it’s meaning. “Get better”, “get stronger”, etc. Clearly I’d also construed this as some kind of strict monastic test of resilience far more than my teacher had intended.

Those self-construed reasons certainly got me through the door though, and I probably wouldn’t have lasted long without them.

But by the time it all ended, those “whys” became trivial. They were surface-level motivations. It felt performative even.

They were minor side-benefits to a far greater sense of purpose I discovered on the other side. What I discovered opened new doors about consciousness, awareness, resilience, purpose, suffering, etc. that became greater paths of exploration for me in the decades that followed.

Today, I’m not a lumberjack, and I rarely work with wood. The teenage me would probably be disappointed to hear that. He’d think I gave up.

But the teen-me before doing the apprenticeship would also have no idea what I’m talking about if I told him about my resulting passion in understanding the mind and consciousness.

Some things can only be discovered, only be understood, when we follow through and experience them first-hand.

The “why" that we start with, is often not the why that we end with.

And to get to that greater why, I believe there is something to be said about following things through to completion, or at least carry ourselves through to sufficient depth.

You may know I usually write about stuckness and burnout, so hopefully you understand that I’m not suggesting putting yourself through mindless hardship.

But what I do observe in myself, and in many of those I work with, is that we often stop a bit too early, and we say to ourselves “I guess my why wasn’t so important.” But those first “whys” may just be the beginning. There may be so many meaningful discoveries that are waiting to be found if we can manage to explore a little further, with compassionate curiosity.

But how do we know when to stop or keep going?
That’s another question I hope to explore with you soon.
In the meantime, I’d love to learn from you. What are your thoughts on this?

Until next time,

TK

For further reading:

Carl Jung died in 1961, long before dating apps, attachment theory, or the phrase “emotionally unavailable” entered the cultural vocabulary.

And yet he figured out your love life with a precision that should be either comforting or alarming, depending on how you’re feeling today.

Here’s what he said, in essence: we don’t fall in love with people. We fall in love with projections. We cast our unconscious inner world onto another person, mistake it for chemistry, and call it fate.

He wasn’t being cynical. He was being accurate.

And once you understand the mechanism, you can finally stop being run by it.

The Inner Figure You Keep Projecting

Jung believed every person carries an unconscious inner figure of the opposite gender — he called it the anima in men, the animus in women. This figure is built from everything: your earliest experiences of love, the parent who was present or absent, the relationships you watched and absorbed, the qualities you were taught to value or fear.

When you feel that powerful, almost irrational pull toward someone — the “I’ve never felt this way before” quality of early attraction — Jung would say you’re not responding to the person in front of you. You’re responding to the projection of this inner figure onto them.

This is why attraction can feel so much like recognition. I feel like I’ve known you forever. You have, in a way. You’ve been carrying this person inside you for years. The stranger just happened to match the template.

The problem is obvious: you’re not actually falling for them. You’re falling for your own unconscious. And eventually the projection fades, the real person emerges, and you wonder what you ever saw in them — or worse, you keep trying to make them fit the image you projected and can’t understand why they won’t cooperate.

The Shadow at the Heart of “Chemistry”

Jung had another idea that’s even more useful for understanding romantic attraction: the shadow.

The shadow is the repository of everything we’ve repressed — qualities we were told were unacceptable, impulses we learned to suppress, parts of ourselves we disowned in order to be loved or safe. We don’t get rid of these qualities. We just push them underground.

And then we find them irresistible in other people.

The woman who was raised to be endlessly responsible and self-contained finds herself drawn to men who are spontaneous, unpredictable, a little chaotic. The man who learned to suppress his anger finds himself with women who have no such restraint. The woman who was never allowed to be needy finds herself endlessly trying to reach men who can’t be reached.

This is not a character flaw. It’s the psyche’s attempt at wholeness. You want what you’ve disowned. You’re trying to integrate it.

The problem is that we try to do it through the other person instead of within ourselves. We want them to carry our shadow for us, which puts an impossible weight on the relationship — and keeps us attached to people who aren’t actually good for us, because leaving them feels like losing a part of ourselves.

What You’re Actually Attracting

Jung’s framework maps almost perfectly onto the patterns I see in my work every day. (My clients are mostly women, but these patterns map onto men just as often.)

The Overfunctioner — the woman who plans all the dates, does all the emotional labor, texts first, follows up, holds everything together — is often projecting an inner belief that love must be earned. Her shadow is the part of her that wants to receive without performing. She keeps attracting men who won’t lift a finger because they perfectly complete the dynamic her wound created: she works, they receive, she stays convinced her value is in what she provides.

The Validation Seeker — constantly scanning for signs of his interest, analyzing every text, every pause, every shift in his energy — is projecting her own unresolved question about her worthiness onto the relationship. The avoidant men she attracts, the hot-and-cold ones who keep her perpetually uncertain, are the perfect screen for that projection. They never fully confirm or deny her worth, which keeps her hooked, which keeps the wound alive.

The Self-Sabotager — who finds the available man “too nice,” gets bored with consistency, picks apart perfectly good partners, or comes on too strong and frightens people away — is usually carrying a shadow belief that she doesn’t deserve what she actually wants. When love shows up without the familiar chaos, her unconscious doesn’t recognize it as real. So she recreates the chaos, or escapes before it can be taken from her.

Jung would say — and I would agree — that these aren’t bad habits or bad luck. They are the unconscious running a program that was installed a long time ago, before you had any say in the matter.

The Projection Always Fades

Here’s the part of Jung’s theory that nobody really wants to hear.

He believed the projection phase of attraction is temporary by design. It has to be. You cannot sustain the fantasy of the inner figure indefinitely — reality keeps interrupting. The person is late, or moody, or has opinions you didn’t script for them. The projection cracks.

What happens next is the real choice.

Most people, when the projection fades, experience it as falling out of love, or realizing they chose wrong, or concluding that there’s something missing. So they leave — and start the cycle again with someone new, someone onto whom they can project freshly.

The alternative is to recognize the fading projection as an invitation. An invitation to actually see the person in front of you — not the image you placed over them — and to ask whether there’s something real and workable underneath. And simultaneously, to turn some of that attention back toward yourself, toward the inner figure you keep projecting, toward the shadow qualities you keep outsourcing to the people you date.

This is what Jung called individuation: the lifelong process of becoming fully, consciously yourself. He was skeptical of romantic love as a shortcut to wholeness — not because love isn’t valuable, but because the work has to happen within. A relationship can support that process beautifully. But it cannot do it for you.

What Actually Changes Things

You cannot think your way out of a projection. If you could, you would have by now.

These patterns live below the analytical mind — in the place where a much younger version of you decided what love felt like, what you had to do to keep it, and whether you were worthy of it without conditions. That’s not a place you can reach through sheer force of insight. Understanding why you do something and actually being free of it are two different things.

This is what drew me to hypnotherapy as a modality — and specifically to Rapid Transformational Therapy. It works at the level where the patterns actually live. Not in the part of you that can recite Jung and nod along knowingly (hello), but in the part that still flinches when someone is too available, still finds the unavailable ones magnetic, still orchestrates small disasters when things are going well.

In that deeply relaxed, receptive state, we can find the original moment — the experience that installed the belief, the projection, the shadow pattern — and we can update it. Not erase it. Update it. Replace the story that was written by a child doing their best to survive their circumstances with one written by the adult they’ve become.

When that happens, the projections lose their grip. The unavailable wo/men stop registering as compelling. The available ones stop feeling suspicious. Safety stops feeling like settling.

Jung said: “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.”

You don’t have to call it fate.

You can call it a pattern. And patterns, with the right kind of work, can change.

If this resonated, my article The Chemistry of Connection goes even deeper into why we’re drawn to who we’re drawn to — and what we can do about it. Subscribe for more.

“He’s a very agreeable person. Never causes friction.”

Maybe someone with this reputation comes to mind. Maybe it’s you.

Many who have had this reputation have done well in life. It’s helped them get by without major conflicts or issues.

Then why, at a certain point in life, could they suddenly become the center of friction and conflict? Their bosses are frustrated with them. Their colleagues don’t trust them. Their partners are irritated with them at a deep level.

You can imagine how this could be deeply disorienting.

“I’ve only been kind. This has been working for me my whole life. Why is my world falling apart?”

This is surprisingly common, and there are reasons for it.

Kindness Matters

First of all, kindness matters. Empathy matters. The ability to genuinely listen, to hold space, to put someone else’s needs before your own- these are not weaknesses. They are essential qualities that create connection, build relationships and sustain communities.

I think our modern world in particular could use a lot more of it.

This article isn’t about becoming “harder”, or colder, or more ruthless.

It’s about something more subtle- a pattern where “warmth” isn’t exactly what it seems.

When Kindness Becomes Something Else

All of us have the capacity to genuinely care for others. And we also have the natural human tendency to unconsciously avoid discomfort.

But sometimes the two get intertwined. More specifically, the desire to avoid something can disguise itself as “care for others”.

Sometimes we hold back because we’re genuinely considering someone else’s wellbeing. But mixed into that consideration can also be a fear of conflict or disapproval. Or of being seen as difficult, or demanding, or unkind.

Especially when our identity has become so closely tied with being the “kind, agreeable person”, behaving that way becomes so second-nature that we may not even notice when fear has seeped in.

This can show up in a number of shapes:

1. The Friend Who Never Has an Opinion Some friends are planning a group trip. One friend, when asked what they want, always says “I’m easy, whatever the group wants.” It feels considerate. But after the fifth time, it quietly shifts the entire burden of decision-making onto everyone else. For the others, what started as “ease” can start to feel like “absence”.

2. The Parent Who Can’t Say No A parent hates seeing their child upset, so they consistently avoid saying no to things that deserve a no. In the moment it feels like love. Over time, the child learns that distress is a reliable way to get what they want, that boundaries are negotiable, and that discomfort is something to be avoided rather than navigated. The parent’s “kindness” has quietly deprived the child of important opportunities to develop.

3. The Leader Who Avoids the Difficult Conversations A team member has been causing stress for their colleagues. They are disruptive, selfish, and undermining others. Everyone including the leader notices but the leader doesn’t say anything to the person directly so as not to hurt them. The disruptive team member gets further enabled, colleagues are now all hostile or complaining behind the scenes, and the trust toward the leader is falling apart.

I am sure there are many similar cases you can imagine. What’s common is that what may seem like kindness on the surface, hides underneath a fear of conflict, disapproval or failure. And ironically it ends up causing exactly what the fear was trying to avoid.

The Price We Pay

Sustained conflict avoidance doesn’t just affect the people around us. It does something quietly damaging to us.

When what worked stops working, things can start to feel heavy. Like we’re lost, stuck and numb. It can feel like the potential inside of us is being wasted away but we don’t know why.

The underlying fear can also prevent us from practicing and developing important life skills, like decision making, taking responsibility, or formulating and expressing our voice.

Different experts have called this phenomenon different things. Like the development of a “false self” (Winnicott), or a “pathological communion” with others (Wilber).

But we’d be jumping the gun to call it a disease. Or a flaw. Or something fundamentally ‘wrong’.

I think a far more constructive interpretation, is to see it as an old internal script (e.g. “be kind to be accepted”), that worked excellently until a certain point. But when our world became more complex and we received more responsibilities, the script stopped working as well as they used to.

Nothing fundamentally wrong with it. But it can help to reinterpret that script.

Why It Keeps Happening

These scripts were built to protect us. Perhaps it helped us feel liked and validated. Perhaps it helped us belong to a group. Whatever it was, it served a perfectly reasonable purpose.

But when we now have to manage a team, raise kids, care for parents, secure a job, put out fires and navigate complex systems, these old scripts can falter.

So what can we do? Reading a book won’t suddenly change our mental model. Neither will a weekend retreat.

The unglamorous, un-hacky, un-quick-fix method is starting with honest self-awareness, followed by curiously and patiently testing our old assumptions.

Here are four questions that can open the first doors:

• What do I do when a question is raised, or a conflict is brewing? Nodding? Waiting for someone else to do something? Silence? Agreeing out loud while disagreeing internally? Pretending like I understand? Name it specifically.

• What do I imagine would happen if I said what I feel or thought? What if I said my opinion? Or “I don’t know, help me?” Or the opposite of what I wrote above? What’s the big bad outcome my brain imagines?

• What am I actually protecting here? Is this consideration for someone else, or is it protection for myself? Both can be true at once. Be honest.

• Is that big bad outcome a fact? Does it really actually happen? Does it happen 100% of the time? What’s a small and safe way I can test how true it is?

Often, our brain can logically understand that many of our assumptions are overblown. But it can be harder for the heart to follow, so compassion with ourselves through the process is essential.

After time, however, the tight knot of our old assumptions begins to loosen once we see enough evidence that it isn’t always true.

A Final Thought

There’s a version of selflessness that genuinely serves others. It’s one of the most beautiful things a person can offer.

And there’s also a version that looks like selflessness but is actually self-protection. That version can redistribute the cost of our own discomfort onto the people around us, quietly, over time… and the temporary discomfort often gets redistributed with interest towards our future selves as well.

The world needs your warmth, but it also needs your opinion. The boundary you’ve been holding back. The honest reaction you’ve been editing internally before you ultimately swallowed it. The idea you’ve been waiting for permission to say out loud.

Allowing those things to be expressed with compassion may actually end up being the greatest kindness you can do for yourself and others.

Is this something you’ve experienced? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.

Until next time, TK

For further reading:

Internet took less than 10 years. AI less than 3.

They say we consume about 74 gigabytes of data a day. That’s roughly equivalent to what an elite scholar 500 years ago would have consumed in an entire lifetime.

Information is more equal, more accessible, and more voluminous than ever before. Yet we remain frighteningly narrow in the information we consume, and dangerously biased.

Have you ever borrowed your friends’ and family members’ phones and scrolled through their YouTube feeds? Despite everyone using the same app, it’s scary how different our consumption of content is.

The algorithms that govern our news feeds, our AI’s responses and search results are not designed to broaden our thinking. They’re designed to keep our attention. And the fastest path to our attention is to show us more of what we already believe, already like, and already agree with. Or it’ll feed whatever triggers an emotion in us, factual accuracy aside.

It’s no surprise that despite how globalized our world is, polarized, cliquey, close-minded conversations still feel so commonplace.

And this is directly affecting how both our kids, and we (adults) are developing.

What We Lose in the Comfort of Familiar Content

Research on echo chambers shows that this self-reinforcing cycle doesn’t just limit what we see, it limits how we think. Confirmation bias tightens. Critical thinking weakens. Depending on how we use our tools, the diversity of thought is replaced by a curated reflection of our existing worldview.

Research has also suggested overreliance on AI can increase loneliness, disrupt agency and development, reduce resilience/emotional regulation, and create an unhealthy avoidance of real human interactions (most people would rather chat with an AI that always agrees with them, than risk the friction of a conversation with a real person.)

So this isn’t just affecting what we see on our screens. It’s affecting our real-life human interactions.

Exposure to new people and environments can stimulate neuroplasticity associated with learning and memory. Other studies have shown that adapting to unfamiliar environments has measurable increases in mental flexibility.

Naturally, we lose these benefits when our interest in difference atrophies.

I’m a perennial introvert by the way. Saying hi to a stranger feels like a heart attack. But even I worry about the damage of becoming increasingly isolated in a comfortable bubble.

When Our World Shrinks, We Stall

By far my biggest concern is the impact of narrow experiences on development, not just kids but adults too.

Development theory posits that psychological growth is catalyzed when we encounter something our current way of thinking cannot fully absorb. When we’re challenged by a perspective we can’t dismiss, a place that doesn’t match our assumptions, or a person whose life makes sense in ways we didn’t expect, we’re stimulated to expand. We reevaluate our existing assumptions, and our internal model of the world gets updated.

But when our inputs stop diversifying, that process naturally stalls. Our old assumptions and ways of operating get further solidified (even when we logically know they aren’t helping us), and when that happens we avoid new perspectives even more. It’s a vicious cycle.

And adults are already falling into this spiral. So imagine what it can do to kids who are still developing their executive function (the brain’s management system that allows us to think flexibly, have self-control, work towards goals, etc.), while simultaneously watching the adults in their lives doom-scrolling away like it’s standard behavior.

What We Can Do For Ourselves and Our Youth

Our minds have a strong tendency to prefer the familiar. So these activities won’t feel exactly easy or fun the first time around…but neither does lifting weights or going for a run for the first time in a while. It’s a practice.

With people:

• Identify someone in your life who thinks very differently from you. Have one genuine conversation with them this month. Not to debate, but to understand how they got there.

• Notice the composition of your social circle. If everyone broadly agrees with you, where can you safely go to expose yourself to other opinions?

With places:

• Explore a different neighborhood, a different community event, a different kind of gathering. Even taking a different route home can make a difference. You don’t need a plane ticket.

• Change where you sit, literally. Study, eat, work at a different table. These little shifts in perspective not only invite a slightly different view, but I find it slowly develops a curiosity for bigger changes of perspective in life.

With ideas:

• Audit your feeds. Ask yourself if it is expanding how you think, or confirming what you already believe.

• When searching the web or asking AI for information, ask for opposing views, and interpretations from different countries, cultures and schools of thought. You don’t have to agree, but try to understand.

• When something makes you uncomfortable, stay with it a moment longer before dismissing it. There may be a lesson in the friction.

None of this has to be dramatic. Small shifts in input create large shifts in perspective over time.

A Final Thought

It’s easy to feel comfortable in a bubble, but in a world where bubbles can form faster, easier and stronger than ever before, it seems vital that we do not compromise our agency in questioning them.

A very dangerous kind of agency loss, is the kind that happens to us unknowingly (and scalable to entire populations). We give it away in pieces, until it becomes normal and even comfortable to have very little of it left.

Developing as a human has always been about expanding our hearts and minds. And in every age in history, there have been opposing forces (some intentional, some not; some from outside of us, and some from within) that try to keep us small. It may be helpful to explore what those forces are for us, in the age we live in.

Curious what thoughts came up for you. Feel free to pop my bubbles :)

Until next time, TK

For further reading:

Curious how you might be developing as an adult?
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Your developmental assessment

And I felt guilty for feeling that way because by most measures I was doing fine. I had a job. I could pay the bills. The kids were healthy.

But there was a persistent feeling that I wasn’t living my own life. Part of me was living to serve standards and expectations written by somebody else. In my twenties, role models, bosses, parents, peers all influenced what I thought was ‘right’ or ‘best’.

But what made it even harder, were the standards I’d written for myself. “Work hard,” “be punctual,” “be committed to quality,” “be tough in the face of challenge,” “don’t give up.”

These internalized standards worked. They helped me make my own decisions, lead quality projects, and generally advance in my career.

But at some point these internal scripts became a weight. I was tired, and most things felt meaningless.

And perhaps you can relate, but sleep doesn’t fix this kind of tiredness.

So I did what many of us do. I worked harder assuming it would pass. I made lists. I read books. I analyzed the situation and tried to problem-solve away the purposelessness.

But it was like running in quicksand. The more I thrashed around, the more stuck I felt.

It took me a while to understand why. The problem wasn’t that I was not working on it hard enough. The problem was that I was running on assumptions that weren’t true.

Two Kinds of Problems

But before getting to the assumptions, one thing I found helpful in overcoming the stuckness, was understanding the kind of problem I was working with.

Ronald Heifetz of Harvard University, an expert in public leadership, distinguished between these two kinds of problems.

Technical challenges are the ones that can be solved with existing knowledge and expertise. A machine breaks, so you replace the necessary parts. A recipe doesn’t taste great, so you adjust the ingredients. There’s a right answer, and someone with sufficient expertise can find it.

Adaptive challenges are different. They’re complex, ambiguous, and hard to define. And they can’t be solved with thinking or working harder. They require a deeper shift in your assumptions, how you see yourself, and how you understand the world.

For example, maybe you feel stuck in your career. Or you keep having the same arguments with your partner. Or you know you want to change something, but you’re never able to do it.

These are adaptive challenges.

Why Doing More Doesn’t Do It

That feeling of “I know I should, but I can’t” isn’t weakness or laziness.

Harvard psychologists Robert Kegan and Lisa Lahey’s research on what they call our “Immunity to Change” reveals that when we genuinely want to change something but repeatedly fail to do so, we almost always have an unconscious protective system that’s keeping us safe from something we think is threatening.

Just as our biological immune system attacks foreign cells, our psychological immune system works to protect us from the perceived risks of change. These can be things like loss of status, loss of belonging, loss of the self-image we’ve worked hard to build.

Take dieting for example. Say we want to lose weight, but we have a hidden assumption that food is the best way to bring us comfort in times of stress. You can imagine that no matter how many diet and exercise hacks you try, that hidden commitment will make it hard for you to lose weight. In fact, the stress of thinking about and committing to the diet, might make the results worse.

Doing more doesn’t solve it.

Less Doing, More Seeing

So if working harder won’t do it, what can we do?

When we’re stuck on an adaptive challenge, the signal we need is usually already there. It’s just quieter than the noise of our logical analysis.

That feeling of stuckness may not be comfortable, but it’s helpful data. It’s the body flagging something the mind hasn’t quite named. Perhaps a value is being compromised, or an old identity no longer fits, or the life we’ve worked hard to build isn’t quite shaping up to be the life we actually want.

When we stop trying to force our way out, and start bringing honest and conscious attention to what we feel, something begins to shift. The fog doesn’t lift all at once. But a direction starts to become clearer.

Some Things Worth Trying

If you’re feeling stuck, try writing down the answers to these questions (writing it, rather than thinking about it, can make a noticeable difference):

Start here:

• When you imagine the thing you feel stuck with, what happens in your chest, your gut, your breath? Not what you think, what do you feel?

  • Sit with the situation for a minute without analyzing it. Just notice what arises in your body.

Explore what helps you feel lighter:

• Now imagine the moments in life that help you feel lighter, more energized, more joyful. Where in your body do you feel that energy and joy?

• Back to the stuckness. What might be the ideal situation that frees you from the stuckness and could help you feel genuinely content?

  • Set aside whether it’s realistic or practical for now. Notice how you feel lighter when you imagine this.

Explore the uncomfortable:

• What might be an action you haven’t taken, or a conversation you haven’t had, that might get you closer to that ideal situation?

• What makes you uncomfortable about those actions/conversations?

  • Is it the possibility of failure? Is it unfamiliarity? Is it how people might see you? Is it disappointment in yourself? What else?

Consider the alternatives:

• In the question above, your brain likely predicted bad consequences of taking those new actions or having those conversations.

  • But let’s imagine those consequences end up never happening. What might be a positive alternative consequence? What might be a totally plausible positive response from the people involved?

Write your answers. Let it sit for a day, and revisit them again. Feel free to edit, add, revise.

Answering these questions isn’t supposed to suddenly clear your stuckness. But curiosity and honesty toward these questions may help you see something you hadn’t genuinely considered before. When “doing” isn’t working, “seeing” with curiosity can often provide unconsidered answers.

A Final Thought

Kegan and Lahey's research reminds us that the hidden assumptions keeping us stuck once made sense. They just may not fit anymore.

There’s courage in admitting that the same old “doing” isn’t working anymore.

And there's even more courage in looking at ourselves with compassionate honesty.

The signal is already there. It’s been there.

It just needs to be listened to.

What are some adaptive challenges that you managed to work through? Or are still figuring out? I’d love to hear what comes up in the comments.

Until next time,

TK

For further reading:

Can’t shake the stuckness? I help people change old habits, behaviors and identities by overcoming their “immunity to change”. If you’re interested, try this free 2-minute developmental assessment to see how I might be able to help you.

Your developmental assessment

And within milliseconds my verdict is already in:

“That’s pretty inconsiderate.”

“This is so biased.”

“They must be a very XYZ person.”

It’s not even verbalized. It’s an instantly felt thought.

Then I move on. Life throws something else at me, and I’ve already forgotten about that moment of judgement.

These judgements are automatic and frequent. Think about those every day moments: Someone cuts you off in traffic, you see some disturbing news, a colleague says something distasteful.

Those momentary flashes happen throughout the day for all us, yet may arguably one of the least examined aspects of our daily lives.

I know this doesn’t sound exactly fun, but what if we paused to actually look at those moments with honesty and curiosity?

What Judgement Actually Is

Before we go inward, it helps to understand what’s happening in our heads.

Judgement, at its core, is a categorization process. Research has long said that the brain is a prediction machine, constantly scanning its environment and sorting information: safe or unsafe, familiar or foreign, they’re like me or not like me.

Psychologist Daniel Kahneman called this System 1 thinking: fast, automatic, and largely unconscious. Evolutionarily, it makes sense. It’s essential. Quick assessments of threat kept us alive.

But most of aren’t scanning for the threat of lions when we’re reading our news feed. Yet we still use that automated quick-fire judgement. And it can misfire.

Stanford psychologist Lee Ross explored this in the 70s. What he coined as the “Fundamental Attribution Error” is our tendency to explain other people’s behavior as a reflection of their character (he’s selfish, she’s lazy), while explaining our own through uncontrollable circumstance (I was tired, it was a rough week).

We treat these auto-judgements like a matter-of-fact, but researchers have found it’s often closer to projection (more on that later).

Fortunately we can intentional shift those automatic responses. Neuroscientist Matthew Lieberman (and many other researchers since then) found that when we pause and label what we’re feeling; “I notice something in me is irritated,” “I notice I feel threatened”; the amygdala activation measurably decreases. The pause itself changes the brain’s response.

In doing so the verdict becomes a signal. But what can we learn from that signal?

Where Did That Standard Come From?

A helpful, but often uncomfortable question to ask is:

Who/what taught me this standard?

Every judgement rests on a value, about what good manners look like, what “respectful” means, what a responsible adult does. Even when we logically understand that the world is diverse, those values feel self-evident. Like truth.

And these values are inherited and ingrained in us. Many of our moral frameworks were absorbed when we were children, from our families, our cultures, our communities, before we even had the capacity to consciously evaluate them.

Take me, for example. I’m punctual. I over-prepare. I’ve held myself and others to high standards, and for a long time, I believed that was simply the right way to be. It took me a while to ask: “Right…but according to whom? And is it always really that helpful?”

The ghosts of old bosses, parents, role models whisper in our unconscious, and we mistake their voices for our own.

Research on moral hypocrisy suggests that we tend to judge others most harshly for the very things we fear or deny in ourselves (I’m sure this rings bells for students of Carl Jung as well). We don’t just judge what we dislike. We often judge what we’re not ready to look at.

What Happens When We Get Curious Instead

So what if, instead of acting on the judgement, we turned toward it?

Not to suppress it. Not to perform non-judgement. But to get genuinely curious about what it’s pointing to.

Robert Kegan, whose work sits at the heart of adult development theory, suggests that most of us spend much of our adult lives operating from what he calls the Socialized Mind. At this stage, our identity and our values are largely defined by the groups we belong to.

So when someone lives differently, parents differently, or prioritizes differently from our “tribe”, it doesn’t just feel like a difference, it can feel like a disturbance or a threat.

But as we we further develop into adulthood, we nurture in ourselves the capacity to examine our values, where they came from, and to ask whether they still fit. This is the shift from being subject to our standards, to being able to see them as object. We look at our own standards, rather than look through them.

This developmental shift doesn’t happen through willpower. It happens through exactly the kind of moments we’re talking about: reflecting on the flashes of judgement with a pause, and a genuine question.

Where did this come from? Is it still serving me? Is it even mine?

Here are a few things I find interesting in my own experience of exploring this:

1. The more genuinely secure we are in your own values, the less we need others to validate them.

2. Harsh judgement is often not a sign of conviction. It’s a sign that the conviction still needs validation to feel real.

3. Every time we point the arrow of judgement back at ourselves, we learn something about ourselves, we expand, and we become a little more compassionate.

Take the free, 2-minute Mental OS Assessment below to identify where you may currently be developmentally, and explore ways to develop further as an adult.

Your Developmental Snapshot

Some Questions Worth Sitting With

Here are questions I practice with, and find helpful. They aren’t meant to be answered quickly. Perhaps best used after a judgement you made that surprised you with its quickness.

On the judgement itself:

• What exactly am I judging? Can I name it precisely, without generalizing?

On where it comes from:

• What standard or value is this based on, and how did I learn it?

On what it might be protecting:

• What is my underlying need that felt threatened when I judged? The need for safety? Respect? Something else?

On curiosity:

• Regarding the person receiving our judgement: What might be true in their history, their culture, their circumstances for their choice to be reasonable?

On growth:

• What might open up if I held my standards a little more lightly, not abandoning them, but examining them?

Of course, there are no correct answers. And the answers may evolve with time.

But the value is in the asking.

A Final Thought

We’ll all still judge. We’re wired that way. I don’t think being void of judgement is helpful. There are still lions out there after all.

I do think a helpful milestone in our development as adults, is to become a person who knows what their reactions are made of, and to choose them with intention, instead of being dragged around by them.

Our judgements don’t have to be flaws to suppress or weapons to hurt. Perhaps they are invitations to know ourselves a little more honestly, and to hold others a little more spaciously.

What’s a standard or judgement that you feel you’ve loosened your grip on?

Or what is a practice or experience that has helped you?

Would love to know.

Until next time,

TK

Further reading:

But like everyone, people with the ENFP personality type will hit periods of “stuckness,” feeling overwhelmed by too many ideas, or potentially burning out when they over-extend themselves for the sake of others’ needs.

Both Adult Development Theory and Jung’s theory on individuation provide a direction for ENFPs to develop and navigate the complexity of life with more space.

If you haven’t already, I invite you to read these to better understand the context and theories behind this article:

• How MBTI Can Help You Develop as an Adult

• What is Adult Development Theory?

ENFP: Strengths in the First Half of Life

If you are an ENFP, for much of your life, these two tools* have likely helped you thrive and survive:

• Extraverted Intuition (i.e. Exploring Possibilities): You are excellent at seeing a wide vision of the world, identifying connections between seemingly unrelated ideas, and finding creative solutions to move projects forward.

• Introverted Feeling (i.e. Inner Authenticity): You make decisions based on your deeply held personal values and an empathetic understanding of others. This provides you with a strong internal compass that prioritizes authenticity and human potential.

*Carl Jung believed there are mental “functions” that individuals use to perceive information and make decisions. There are 8 in total, and each personality type tends to favor 2 of them.

ENFPs in the Socialized Mind (Much of Adulthood)

Based on adult development theory, a major stage of adult growth is called the Socialized Mind, where your sense of self is built through your relationships and the groups you belong to. For an ENFP, this often manifests as being a powerful “Empathetic Supporter” for your team or organization.

• How You Define Right and Wrong: At this stage, you get your sense of “what is right” by aligning with the values and expectations of the people or “tribe” you care about. You feel most “right” when your creative energy serves the community and when you are viewed as helpful and insightful by your mentors and peers.

• Behavior in Teams: You are the source of enthusiasm and morale. You find a sense of safety and wholeness in being recognized as an active, supportive contributor. In this stage, your sense of self-satisfaction can be easily impacted by how others assess you; you may find yourself reading between the lines to ensure you still have the approval of those around you.

ENFP: Potential Frictions

For much of their lives, ENFPs may experience stress if:

• They are closely supervised, or when they feel their abilities are doubted and they are not respected by others.

• They have to deal with a burdensome amount of highly specific facts, routine paperwork, or concrete details drains their energy.

• They overcommit to too many appealing projects simultaneously to the point of burnout, or from over-involvement in the problems of others.

You may notice that while the ENFP may find it stressful at times, things like “detail oriented routines” and “sticking to one thing” are also personality strengths (and ones that characterize some other MBTI types). Earlier in life, a person with the ENFP personality might not experience it that way, but as we’ll see below, as they develop this recognition begins to solidify.

ENFP: Growth in the Second Half of Life

According to Jungian theory, growth in the second half of life involves what is called the individuation of “neglected functions,” which helps one reach a state of wholeness. For ENFPs, this entails moving energy toward the development of:

• Thinking (i.e. Logic): Learning to apply systematic logic to evaluate and prioritize ideas, and becoming more comfortable with structure and time management.

• Introverted Sensing (i.e. Sensory Memory): Developing the ability to attend to physical needs, and remember concrete sensory details to guide present understanding.

Mid-life is also when a greater proportion of people begin moving from the Socialized Mind to the Self-Authoring Mind, and eventually toward the Self-Transforming Mind.

In adult development theory, development occurs when we begin to “make Object” our assumptions and tendencies. This means that instead of being Subject to them (for example, being unconsciously controlled by the need for external approval), we begin to objectively look at them and have a choice on when and where to apply them.

Take the free, 2-minute Mental OS Assessment below to identify where you may currently be developmentally, and explore ways to develop further as an adult.

Your Developmental Snapshot

ENFP: Three Practical Ways to Develop as an Adult

To move elements of your mindset from “Subject” to “Object” and support your own development, consider these experiments in a small, safe, testable way:

• Experiment 1: Empathize with Logic

  • Find a person who holds an opposing view on a topic you care about. Instead of arguing from your values or feelings, try to objectively identify the logical merits and demerits (pros and cons) of their argument. Practice relaying their logical points back to them accurately, detached from your feelings of personal values.

• Experiment 2: Grounding in the Now

  • Practicing mindfulness or yoga to increase specific body awareness to the subtle changes in your body. Also practice noting in vivid sensory detail (sights, sounds, smells, tastes) of your present environment, and then practice recalling them later.

• Experiment 3: Openness to Differing Values

  • Recall a stressful interaction with someone who you felt lives life with very different values or principles from your own. Write down the potential merits of their way of living and being. Imagine yourself in their shoes and consider how happiness may be achieved through that way of living as well.

The Benefits of Developing as an Adult

Developing as an adult helps us navigate the increasing complexity of our world with a little more space and breathing room.

The ultimate benefit is an architectural upgrade of the mind that allows you to be part of a bigger whole while maintaining a stable, authentic core.

Whether it’s development theory, MBTI, Jung, or neuroscience, within them are hints that can help us navigate life with more space, as long as we maintain open-minded curiosity.

Thanks for reading. Would love to hear your thoughts and questions in the comments.

For further reading:

Disclaimer: This article draws on my years of experience as a trainer/coach that is a Certified Subject-Object Interviewer and has received MBTI Certification. It’s a practitioner’s synthesis of research intended for educational and developmental purposes; it is not an academic paper and does not constitute clinical, medical, or psychological advice. All insights are based on personal observations and research through years of professional practice.

Sometimes we go on a lifelong journey just to find out the answer was there all along.

And that’s okay.

In my twenties, I approached development like a checklist. I believed that if I read enough books, secured enough certifications, and successfully mimicked the behaviors of the most impressive people in my life, I would eventually arrive at a version of myself that has “figured it out” (whatever that means).

But that journey certainly hasn’t played out that way.

Abandoning Who We Were

Let’s go back to the start of the journey.

When we were young children, we excelled at play that had no “output” and curiosity that had no “objective.” We did things because that was where our hearts pulled us.

And we saw the world through our own eyes, not as we were told to see it.

But as we grow older, some of those traits become liabilities. It’s not cool. It’s weird. It’s a waste of time. So we learn to be “diplomatic” (which often meant hiding the truth) and to be “productive” (which meant devaluing what didn’t produce).

The pattern continues through adolescence and adulthood. We sweep our quirks under the rug. We swallow our words for the sake of validation. We try to look strong and stop asking for help and hugs.

We spend most of our lives running away from that young child, and becoming a highly-polished stranger.

The Necessity of Becoming “Socialized”

But to survive in a world without the protection of our parents/family/home, we must first learn to fit into it. In adult development theory (specifically Robert Kegan’s constructive developmental theory), this spurs the development of what is called the Socialized Mind.

It’s the stage where we internalize the standards of our “tribe”- our families, our cultures, our religions, our workplaces. It’s a vital architecture. It helps us become reliable, contributing members of society.

The young child might have had some things right, but you probably don’t want to work with someone who plays tag all day in the lunch room, refuses to put their shoes on, or farts and giggles at every meeting. The Socialized Mind helps us be someone that others might want to work with.

Without this stage, we can’t learn to connect, collaborate and create together in diverse environments.

But while it’s a vital foundation, it’s a foundation that eventually becomes a ceiling.

Take a 2-minute assessment to identify your own potential ceilings.

Your Developmental Snapshot

Learning to Author Our Own Story

In the Socialized Mind, we’re often driven by questions like, “What does the company want?” “How can I look better in the eyes of my boss? “Will my parents/peers/people like me more if I do this?”

But eventually we reach a tipping point. We start to ask, “What do I stand for?”

As we established in Who is Writing Your Life?, we begin to author our own standards (a developmental stage called the Self-Authoring Mind). We develop an internal compass that is no longer dictated by the approval of others.

This means we can much more comfortably make decisions that might cause someone to like us less. We act not to be validated by others, but to be faithful to our own standards.

The Great Shedding

However, even the most robust Self-Authoring Mind eventually hits a wall.

We realize that the standards we built, and the “rules for success” that we polished over many years, don’t always work in a complex, shifting reality.

Our standards start to feel limiting. It might show up as feelings of meaninglessness, or a loss of a sense of purpose. It may feel like there is something more to life, but the way we’ve done things all these years is boxing us in.

It’s scary. But this is also when we begin to shed.

We don’t necessarily throw our values away, but we learn to be less attached to them. We stop holding onto our identities as “the strong one” “the problem solver” or “the expert” so tightly.

The Shift from Doing to Being

In the first half of life, we are in an “accumulation phase.” We gather titles, skills, and ego-protections. We build the scaffolding of the self.

In the latter half, we let go of the scaffolding.

But we aren’t returning to ground level. We are looking at the same view from a higher floor. Through the effort, the adversity, and the connections we made in the journey, we have developed a higher order of consciousness.

We needed the journey to learn how the world works. We wouldn’t have survived the wilderness without the maps we attained during the accumulation phase.

But after decades of “doing” to thrive and survive, we eventually relearn how to “be” again. Some of the essence of our childhood returns.

When we shed the performative mask, we rediscover the undercurrent that was always there:

• The joy of exploring without a “strategic objective.”

• The ability to be present in a room without “managing the outcome.”

• The natural courage to love and be loved without “transactional expectations.”

We rediscover the presence we excelled at as children, but with one critical difference: Integrated within this presence, is a compassionate ability to hold and understand the diversity, volatility and complexity of people and the world.

Questions to Reflect

Here are a few question to reflect on your own journey:

• How much of your daily schedule is spent “performing” a version of yourself you’ve already outgrown?

• If you stripped away your title and achievements, what is the “undercurrent” that remains?

• What is a small, safe experiment you can do this week to stay true to those “undercurrents”?

The Point of the Journey

The journey wasn’t a detour.

The point of the journey isn’t to find a treasure trove of happiness at the end.

The answer was always there.

The journey teaches us to become the person who can finally see it.

What’s a truth that you’ve returned to? Would love to hear in the comments.

Until next time,

TK

For further reading:

But like everyone, people with the ISTP personality type will hit periods of “stuckness,” feeling trapped by mundane routines, or potentially burning out when technical solutions fail to solve complex interpersonal problems.

Fortunately, both Adult Development Theory and Jung’s theory on individuation provide a direction for ISTPs to develop and navigate the complexity of life with more space

If you haven’t already, I invite you to read these to better understand the context and theories behind this article:

• How MBTI Can Help You Develop as an Adult

• What is Adult Development Theory?

ISTP: Strengths in the First Half of Life

If you are an ISTP, for much of your life, these two tools* have likely helped you thrive and survive:

• Introverted Thinking (i.e. Internal Logic): You enjoy observation and analysis, and have a drive to understand the underlying principles of a system. You gravitate toward spotting inconsistencies, solving logical puzzles, and analyzing data from an objective distance.

• Extraverted Sensing (i.e. Experiencing the Present): You are excellent at living in the “here and now,” observing concrete facts, and acting swiftly on immediate needs. You have a natural knack for troubleshooting and utilizing the resources immediately available to you.

*Carl Jung believed there are mental “functions” that individuals use to perceive information and make decisions. There are 8 in total, and each personality type tends to favor 2 of them.

ISTPs in the Socialized Mind (Much of Adulthood)

Based on adult development theory, a major stage of adult growth is called the Socialized Mind, where your sense of self is built through your relationships and the groups you belong to. For an ISTP, this often manifests as being a powerful “Technical Anchor” for your team or organization.

• How You Define Right and Wrong: At this stage, you get your sense of “what is right” by internalizing the standards of the “tribes” and mentors you respect. Whether it’s the best practices of your engineering field, the “Success Map” shared by your favorite boss, or the technical excellence of your current company, you use your internal logic to align and practice these values. You feel most “right” when your analysis supports the goals of those you respect most.

• Behavior in Teams: You are the reliable source of quality control and practical solutions. You find a sense of safety and wholeness in being recognized as “Competent” and “Resourceful.” You aren’t just solving problems for yourself; you are doing it on behalf of the group to ensure the team doesn’t make a technical mistake. In this stage, you are a “culture-carrier” for rigor and practical application.

ISTP: Potential Frictions

For much of their lives, ISTPs may experience stress if:

• They have to work closely with individuals they perceive as incompetent.

• They are in an environment of rigid rules or illogical standards.

• They must deal with high emotions frequently, without having enough time to themselves.

You may notice that while the ISTP may find it stressful at times, things like “sticking to concrete rules” and “emotional expression” are also personality strengths (and ones that characterize some other MBTI types). Earlier in life, a person with the ISTP personality might not experience it that way, but as we’ll see below, as they develop this recognition begins to solidify.

ISTP: Growth in the Second Half of Life

According to Jungian theory, growth in the second half of life involves what is called the individuation of “neglected functions,” which helps one reach a state of wholeness. For ISTPs, this entails moving focus toward the development of:

• Intuition: Learning to look beyond immediate facts to recognize deeper patterns, hypotheses, and long-term implications.

• Extraverted Feeling (i.e. Social Harmony & Connection): Valuing interpersonal harmony and making decisions based on the emotional needs and realities of others.

Mid-life is also when a greater proportion of people begin moving from the Socialized Mind to the Self-Authoring Mind, and eventually toward the Self-Transforming Mind (more on that here).

In adult development theory, development occurs when we begin to “make Object” our assumptions and tendencies. This means that instead of being “Subject to” them (for example unconsciously controlled by the need for others’ approval), we begin to objectively look at them, and as a result, have a choice on when and where to apply them.

Earlier in life, the ISTP likely assumed that their natural strengths (Introverted Thinking, Extraverted Sensing) were the only or best ways to lead and live, but as they develop, they begin to see how much value their previously neglected functions have.

Take the free, 2-minute Mental OS Assessment below to identify where you may currently be developmentally, and explore ways to develop further as an adult.

Your Developmental Snapshot

ISTP: Three Practical Ways to Develop as an Adult

To move elements of your mindset from “Subject” to “Object” and support your own development, consider these experiments in a small, safe, testable way:

Experiment 1: Practicing Abstract Vision.

• Challenge your reliance on concrete facts. Try explaining an everyday object or a memory using only metaphors and conceptual language, deliberately avoiding sensory details. Alternatively, think of your future, less in terms of things you want to have (like where to live, financial stability, family, etc.) and more in terms of the kind of person you want to be (personality, values, approach to life).

Experiment 2: Prioritizing Other’s Emotions.

• Before making a final decision at work or home, write down a list of everyone affected. Actively put yourself in their shoes to imagine their underlying needs and emotional reactions. To go further, speak with them, and before suggesting solutions, ask questions to understand their feelings and needs better (and see if your notes were accurate).

Experiment 3: Gratitude and Positive Feedback.

• You are great at spotting flaws and communicating fixes. At the same time, to balance this strength, consciously practice positive feedback and encouragement. In addition, a practical exercise is to buy a box of thank-you cards and stamps, keep them on your desk, and make it a habit to write a note to anyone who assists you, ensuring your gratitude is visibly communicated.

These experiments likely won’t feel fun or easy at first. But the intention is to test small, test safely, and see if your long-held assumptions for what is “best”, are as true as you think they are. That shift, from being Subject to your assumptions, to making them Object, is the primary driver of your development.

The Benefits of Developing as an Adult

Developing as an adult helps us navigate the increasing complexity of our world, with a little more space, a little more breathing room.

Whether it’s development theory, MBTI, Jung, neuroscience or really any field or practice, within them are hints that can help you navigate life with more space- as long as we maintain open-minded curiosity.

Thanks for reading. Would love to hear your thoughts and questions in the comments.

Some recommended reading for those keen to learn more:

Disclaimer: This article draws on my years of experience as a trainer/coach that is a Certified Subject-Object Interviewer and has received MBTI Certification. It’s a practitioner’s synthesis of research intended for educational and developmental purposes; it is not an academic paper and does not constitute clinical, medical, or psychological advice. All insights are based on personal observations and research through years of professional practice.

“Kenji” was the engine of his department. A senior analyst at a renewable energy firm, he was always the first to arrive and the last to leave. He didn’t just meet his job description; he constantly innovated, suggesting new data models and efficiency hacks that saved the company thousands. To the outside world, Kenji was a vocal leader who delivered high-quality work with enthusiasm.

But internally, Kenji was quietly accumulating resentment.

He was increasingly frustrated by his teammates, who seemed content with doing “just enough.” He felt like he was carrying 70% of the project load while his peers, who were in the same salary range, logged off exactly at 5:00 PM, leaving him with what was unfinished. It started to feel fundamentally unfair. He felt like an island of effort in a sea of mediocrity.

When Kenji tried to rally the team to improve their output, his friendly prodding was met with polite nods but no actual change in behavior. This isolation pushed him toward the edge of burnout. He wanted to lead a high-output team, but instead, he felt like he was running a marathon alone while his teammates were out for a stroll.

2. The “Fixes” That Didn’t Work

Kenji tried a series of “Technical” fixes to address what he saw as a fairness problem:

• The “Lead by Example” Strategy: He worked even harder, hoping his dedication would be contagious. It wasn’t; his teammates simply thanked him for picking up the slack.

• Better Project Management: He spent hours creating detailed project schedules and contribution maps to “make it easier” for everyone to chip in. The work became more streamlined, but individual productivity didn’t change much.

• The Transparent Dialogue: Being a personable guy, Kenji sat his peers down and expressed his desire for more “balance” in the workload. He used assertive scripts he’d read in leadership books. People listened, agreed that he was a “rockstar,” and then went back to their usual routines.

Kenji was trying to fix a “teammate” problem with external tools, when the underlying issue was the unseen architecture of his own mind.

3. What He Was Secretly Protecting

When we performed a deep-dive into Kenji’s “Mental Operating System,” we found that his high standards were actually a sophisticated form of self-protection.

• The Goal: Kenji wants a fair workload and a successful project.

• The Hidden Commitment: He is fundamentally committed to the belief that his safety and worth are defined by being the most reliable and hard-working person in the room.

• The Identity Risk: If Kenji slows down to match the team’s pace, he fears he will be seen as “average” or “lazy” by his boss, and what was surprising even to himself, his parents. His parents had instilled a “Hard Work = Worth” script into him so deeply that it wasn’t just a value he held; it was a script that had him. To work less felt like an act of betrayal toward his mentors and family.

4. The Limit of His Internal Logic

At first glance, Kenji looked like a Self-Authoring leader (Stage 4) because he had such clear standards. However, he was actually in the transition known as Stage 3/4, where the Socialized Mind (Stage 3) is more dominant.

In the Socialized Mind, identity is co-constructed with the “tribe”—in this case, Kenji’s boss and his parents. While he was starting to develop his own internal voice, it wasn’t quite self-authored yet. The weight of the internal voices of his “tribe” were still stronger.

He wasn’t working hard because he chose to; he was working hard because he was subject to his need for their approval. He felt “unfairness” not because of the workload itself, but because he felt higher output from his teammates was a prerequisite for his own validation. He believed the project had to be perfect for him to be “good,” and he couldn’t achieve that perfection without them.

Take the free 2-minute Mental OS Assessment to identify your own logic ceilings.

Your Developmental Snapshot

5. The Mental Upgrade He Actually Needed

Kenji didn’t need to learn “how to delegate”; he needed to make his standards “Object” (objectively viewing his standards, instead of being powerlessly subject to them). He was so fused with his “Script for Success” that he couldn’t see how it was driving him toward burnout while simultaneously alienating his team.

Meaningful change happened when Kenji realized he was using his teammates as “suppliers” for his own need for validation from authority figures. He began to step back and reflect on his hard-working standards as a choice (which he could take or let go based on the situation) rather than his entire identity.

He realized that his “polite” suggestions were actually subtle demands for his team to help him stay “perfect” in the eyes of his boss. Once he could see this, he gained the internal space to choose his pace. He started to realize that he could have high standards without being a slave to them, and he could be a good son and employee without being the “hardest worker” every single hour of the day.

And a positive side-effect of this was that he began meeting his teammates where they were. He actually started listening to the needs, the values, the motivations of his colleagues. This became an essential first step in his evolution as a leader who can motivate through understanding, instead of trying to elevate by only pushing high standards.

6. Shifting the Lens

Kenji wasn’t a victim of a “lazy team.” He was an employee of an old mental script that had served him well in the first act of his life but was now sputtering out in a different environment.

By moving his internalized expectations from Subject to Object, he was able to stop seeing his teammates as obstacles to his worth. He was still a hard-worker and that continues to be his strength. But he also found there are other ways to provide value.

What was relatable for you in Kenji’s experience? Do you ever find yourself working harder just to fulfill an old script you didn’t write? Would love to hear your thoughts in the comments.

The case studies shared here are composite narratives—stories crafted from the recurring patterns and universal challenges I have witnessed over years of practice. I have intentionally abstracted and blended these experiences so that they do not represent any single person, past or present. My goal is to show how adult development occurs in practice, so you can see a roadmap for your own growth.

For further reading:

You’ve built your reputation on strong relationships and the ability to influence through direct conversation. When something needs to move, you know who to talk to. But as you step into more senior roles, that approach stops scaling. You can’t be in every conversation, and you can’t rely on direct relationships with every stakeholder. Influence no longer happens one interaction at a time.

You find yourself wondering why things aren’t gaining traction. You’ve already explained the direction, had the conversations, made the case—and yet, progress feels slow or uneven. It’s not a lack of effort, or even skill. It’s that what made you effective before is no longer what the role requires.

The work has shifted—from influencing individuals to building coalitions to create alignment across a system. And that shift can feel disorienting, because it’s not just about doing more.

It’s about leading differently.

The Adult Learning Lens

From an adult learning perspective, this moment isn’t just a skills gap—it’s a shift in how a leader understands their role.

This is transformative learning.

Unlike most workplace learning, which focuses on building knowledge or improving performance, transformative learning involves a change in perspective—how we see ourselves, others, and the systems we operate within (Mezirow, 1991). It often begins with what Mezirow calls a disorienting dilemma.

In leadership transitions, that dilemma can sound like:

• I’m doing what worked before, but it’s not working now.

• I can’t get the same traction, even though I’m putting in more effort.

• I’m not sure what “good” looks like at this level.

These moments are uncomfortable—and that discomfort is not a sign of failure. It’s the catalyst for deeper learning.

As described in When Learning Changes Who We Are, transformative learning is less like “adding a new tool” and more like changing the lens through which we see our role.

For leaders, this often involves shifts such as:

• From having the right answers → to shaping the right conversations

• From driving decisions → to building shared ownership

• From influencing individuals → to aligning coalitions and systems

Research reinforces that these shifts don’t happen through instruction alone. They require:

• Critical reflection on existing assumptions (Brookfield, 2017)

• Dialogue with others to test and expand perspectives (Yorks & Marsick, 2000)

• Experience navigating ambiguity, not just learning about it (Marsick & Watkins, 2001)

In other words, leaders don’t simply learn new strategies at this level. They begin to question—and ultimately redefine—what it means to lead.

And that is what makes leadership transitions uniquely powerful learning moments. They are not just about doing things differently.

They are about seeing differently—and, over time, leading differently because of it.

If transformative learning helps explain how leaders shift their perspectives, adult development theory helps us understand why these shifts are so challenging—and what fundamentally changes as leaders grow.

Why is the shift so hard?

To preface, adult development theory is a field of study that looks at how people continue to develop through the entirety of their adulthood. In its simplest terms, it suggests that as our environments become more complex, so too does our mind (Kegan, 1994). In other words, our ability to hold complexity and navigate it with space improves over time.

But time alone isn’t enough. Like mentioned above, it’s often kickstarted by a disorienting dilemma–the uncomfortable transition phase when we realize old approaches aren’t working anymore.

And the dilemma is just the start. The real challenge is decoupling old scripts, assumptions, and best-practices that have defined our lives until this point. In fact, we can be so attached to these assumptions that it’s basically who we are–it programs the way in which we operate in the world.

For example, let’s say one of your core assumptions (which people usually aren’t even conscious of) is:

“My sense of self-worth, and the value I provide, comes from my being a friendly, detail-oriented, glue-person for the team.”

There is nothing wrong with that. It probably helped you thrive and survive for most of your life. But what happens when you’re put in a leadership position that requires you to:

• Make quick decisions on incomplete data

• Provide critical feedback

• Regularly hold high-friction situations both with teammates and stakeholders?

You can probably imagine how hard this new position would be. It may even feel like a loss of identity–doing the opposite of everything that makes you, you.

This is why these leadership shifts can be so difficult. You know that things that worked before aren’t working as well anymore, but it’s highly uncomfortable to let go of those old approaches.

But while these shifts can be uncomfortable at first, 1) it is possible, and 2) it can expand our abilities as leaders when we experience them. Whether it’s how we communicate, manage or prioritize, by taking a step back from our old approaches, we invite the possibility for something better.

In adult development theory, this transition is often referred to as a Subject-Object shift (Drago-Severson, 2019). It’s shifting assumptions/identities that we have been “Subject to” (i.e. being “held by” and therefore controlled by these assumptions), to making it “Object” (i.e. something we can now “hold”, and therefore have a choice in whether to apply them or not).

This Subject-Object shift in our leadership approaches is exactly what helps leaders move from “stuckness”, to a more expanded, versatile version of their leadership.

So what exactly does transformative learning and adult development theory suggest we can do to support our own internal shifts as leaders?

A Practical Exercise for Leaders

There are countless resources from transformative learning and adult development theory that can help you grow as a leader.

This exercise is designed to help you to increase your awareness, loosen your grip on your current perspectives, and over time invite a shift in the way you lead.

As you work through the questions, write down your responses. Writing makes your thinking visible in a way that simply reflecting does not.

1. Clearly identify the stuck point

Think of one leadership challenge where what used to work is no longer working.

• What is happening?

• What feels frustrating, unclear, or ineffective?

2. Surface your assumptions

What do you believe is the “best” way to lead or conduct work in this situation? Think about quality, speed, communication, teamwork, and decision making.

• Where did those beliefs come from?

• What people or experiences shaped them?

• How might those beliefs be helping you?

• How might they now be limiting you?

3. Look for the stretch

Imagine approaching the situation differently, while still being effective.

• What is one “opposite” move you could make? For example, where might slowing down help more than moving fast, or asking questions help more than giving answers?

• What new possibilities might that open?

4. Re-evaluate feedback and relationships

Transformative shifts are clarified and strengthened through dialogue with others.

• What is your natural reaction to critical feedback?

• How often do you actively seek perspectives that challenge your thinking?

• Who is a trusted colleague, mentor, coach, or peer you could talk this through with?

• Ask them: What might I be missing? Where might my old strengths be getting in the way?

5. Notice emotional signals

Return to the same situation you identified in Step 1.

• Where are you experiencing frustration, tension, or defensiveness in this situation?

• What might that reaction be revealing about your assumptions or blind spots?

• How might the other person(s) involved be seeing the situation differently? What pressures, goals, or concerns might they have?

6. Conduct one small leadership experiment this week

This last step is especially important.

• What is a small change in approach that may be effective, but is counter to your usual assumptions?

• What is a small, safe situation in which you can try that new approach this week?

• After you conduct that experiment–what does the result of the experiment say about the validity of your usual assumptions?

The goal is not just reflection, but beginning to loosen old patterns and test new ways of leading.

A Final Note

These practices are not about quickly “figuring it out.”

They are about gradually reshaping how you see your role, your impact, and yourself as a leader.

That process takes time. It involves discomfort. And it is rarely linear.

But with critical reflection, real-world experimentation, and the support of trusted others, leaders can move through these transitions—not just by doing more, but by changing how they lead.

This article was co-authored with Dr. Jody Peleo-Lazar, a true expert in Adult Learning and Leadership Development. I highly recommended her newsletter for any professional who is involved in helping others grow— plus all people who want to deepen their own learning capabilities:

Adult Learning at Work

Making sense of how adults grow on the job

By Dr. Jody Peleo-Lazar

References

Brookfield, S. D. (2017). Becoming a critically reflective teacher (2nd ed.). Jossey-Bass.

Drago-Severson, E., & Blum-DeStefano, J. (2019). Tell Me So I Can Hear You: A Developmental Approach to Feedback for Educators. Cambridge, MA: Harvard Education Press

Kegan, R. (1994). In Over Our Heads: The Mental Demands of Modern Life. Harvard University Press.

Marsick, V. J., & Watkins, K. E. (2001). Informal and incidental learning. New Directions for Adult and Continuing Education, 2001(89), 25–34.

Mezirow, J. (1991). Transformative dimensions of adult learning. Jossey-Bass.

Yorks, L., & Marsick, V. J. (2000). Organizational learning and transformation. In A. L. Wilson & E. R. Hayes (Eds.), Handbook of adult and continuing education (pp. 253–281). Jossey-Bass.

But like everyone, people with the ENFJ personality type will hit periods of stuckness, feeling overwhelmed by others’ needs, or potentially burning out from the weight of collective expectations.

Fortunately, adult development theory and Jung’s theory on individuation, both provide a direction for ENFJs to develop and navigate the complexity of life.

If you haven’t already, I invite you to read these to better understand the context and theories behind this article:

• How MBTI Can Help You Develop as an Adult

• The Basics of Adult Development Theory

ENFJ: Strengths in the First Half of Life

If you are an ENFJ, for much of your life, these two tools* have likely helped you thrive and survive:

• Extraverted Feeling (i.e. Interpersonal Connection): You enjoy connecting people and have a drive to maintain the emotional well-being of a system. You gravitate toward building consensus, fostering morale, and reading the subtle social cues of those around you.

• Introverted Intuition (i.e. Future Vision): You are great at seeing the “big picture” of human potential, recognizing patterns in behavior, and envisioning long-term goals. This provides you with a sense of purpose and a roadmap for how to inspire others.

*Carl Jung believed there are mental “functions” that individuals use to perceive information and make decisions. There are 8 in total, and each personality type tends to favor 2 of them.

ENFJs in the Socialized Mind (Much of Adulthood)

Based on adult development theory, a major stage of adult growth is called the Socialized Mind, where your sense of self is built through your relationships and the groups you belong to. For an ENFJ, this may show up with you being a powerful “Emotional Anchor” for your team or organization.

• How You Define Right and Wrong: At this stage, you get your sense of “what is right” by internalizing the values and needs of the people you care about. Whether it’s the mission of your nonprofit, the expectations of your family, or the cultural norms of your industry, you use your interpersonal connection to align with these values. You feel most “right” when your actions result in unity and the approval of your tribe.

• Behavior in Teams: You are the reliable source of cultural glue. You find a sense of safety and wholeness in being recognized as “Helpful” and “Impactful.” You aren’t just building harmony for yourself; you are doing it on behalf of the group to ensure no one feels left behind. In this stage, you are a deeply loyal “culture-carrier” for empathy and collaboration.

ENFJ: Potential Frictions

For much of their lives, ENFJs may experience stress if:

• They are placed in environments that demand cold, impersonal data-driven decision-making without regard for human impact.

• They are forced to deal with sustained conflict or even worse need to be the one delivering critical feedback.

• They are forced into sudden changes without clear direction and their carefully planned visions are disrupted.

You may notice that while the ENFJ may find it stressful, things like “objective logic” “giving critical feedback when necessary” and “flexibly changing things on the fly” are also personality strengths (and ones that characterize some other MBTI types). Earlier in life, the ENFJ might not experience it that way, but as they develop, this recognition begins to solidify.

ENFJ: Growth in the Second Half of Life

According to Jungian theory, growth in the second half of life involves what is called the individuation of “neglected functions,” which helps one reach a state of wholeness. For ENFJs, this entails moving energy toward the development of:

• Sensing (i.e. Sensory Presence): Learning to enjoy the moment as it is, without needing to plan or “fix” it, and focusing on concrete, sensory data.

• Introverted Thinking (i.e. Internal Logic): Valuing logical consistency and making decisions based on impersonal principles, even when those principles might cause temporary social friction.

Mid-life is also when a greater proportion of people begin moving from the Socialized Mind to the Self-Authoring Mind, and eventually toward the Self-Transforming Mind (more on that here).

In adult development theory, development occurs when we begin to “make Object” our assumptions and tendencies. This means that instead of being “Subject to” them (for example unconsciously controlled by the need for others’ approval), we begin to objectively look at them, and as a result, have a choice on when and where to apply them.

Earlier in life, the ENFJ likely assumed that their natural strengths (Extraverted Feeling and Introverted Intuition) were the only or best ways to lead and live, but as they develop, they begin to see how much value their previously neglected functions have.

Take the free, 2-minute Mental OS Assessment below to identify where you may currently be developmentally, and explore ways to develop further as an adult.

Your Developmental Snapshot

ENFJ: Three Practical Ways to Develop as an Adult

To move elements of your mindset from “Subject” to “Object” and support your own development, you may want to consider these “challenges” in a small, safe, testable way:

• Experiment 1: Curiosity with Conflict.

  • Because ENFJs tend to place a premium on harmony, they often avoid uncomfortable facts, or sweep disagreements under the rug. To grow, consider directly facing a small conflict (or even just writing about one). Consider the initially uncomfortable realities with curiosity. What are the facts? What is the observable data about yourself, others and the situation?

• Experiment 2: Openness with Feedback.

  • ENFJ can tend to interpret objective, logical critique as a personal attack. To further develop, actively practice separating objective feedback from your personal self-worth (try looking at feedback as potentially helpful data, rather than a judgement of your value).

• Experiment 3: The Slowdown.

  • Driven by a desire for unity and quick closure, ENFJs can sometimes unknowingly rush or pressure others into agreeing with their vision. Try practicing taking a step back, and avoid forcing your personal ideals. Give others the necessary time to process information at their own pace.

These experiments likely won’t feel fun or easy at first. But the intention is to test small, test safely, and see if your long-held assumptions for what is “best”, are as true as you think they are. That shift, from being Subject to your assumptions, to making them Object, is the primary driver of your development.

The Benefits of Developing as an Adult

Development is about architecting a mind that can hold the life you want to lead. Whether it’s development theory, MBTI, Jung, neuroscience or really any field or practice, within them are hints that can help you navigate life with more space- as long as we maintain open-minded curiosity.

Thanks for reading, and do share your thoughts and questions in the comments.

Some recommended reading for those keen to learn more:

Disclaimer: This article draws on my years of experience as a trainer/coach that is a Certified Subject-Object Interviewer and has received MBTI Certification. It’s a practitioner’s synthesis of research intended for educational and developmental purposes; it is not an academic paper and does not constitute clinical, medical, or psychological advice. All insights are based on personal observations and research through years of professional practice.