I call myself a leadership coach. But when I say that, I don’t just mean leadership in the traditional sense – managing a team, running a department, or holding a formal position of authority. Leadership, to me, is something much broader. It doesn’t matter whether you’re guiding a business, raising a family, or simply navigating your own life. At the core, we are all leaders—of ourselves.
And yet, it doesn’t always feel that way.
We’re living in strange, often overwhelming times. Change has always been a part of life, but the pace and intensity of it now seem to be accelerating. There’s even a term for it: VUCA—volatile, uncertain, complex, and ambiguous. Originally coined by the military, VUCA has been widely adopted in the business world to describe the turbulent conditions many of us are operating in today.
But even VUCA is evolving. Enter BANI: brittle systems, anxious people, nonlinear outcomes, and incomprehensible complexity. Coined by anthropologist and historian Jamais Cascio, BANI better captures the emotional and structural fragility we’re seeing around us—and often, within us.
In a world like this, it is easy to feel lost. Like we’re being swept away by a storm we can’t control. Paralysis, confusion, and even hopelessness are common reactions.
So how do you find calm in the chaos?
“We have absolutely no control over what happens to us in life, but what we have paramount control over is how we respond to those events.”
– Viktor Frankl
This quote has stayed with me. It reminds me that even in the most chaotic times, there’s a place of stillness we can access: the eye of the storm.
So how do we get there?
One powerful practice is to take on the role of the detached observer.
Instead of playing the game, you take a seat in the stands. From there, you can observe. You can see the whole field. You’re no longer caught up in the chaos—you’re watching it unfold. With a bit of distance, the emotions settle. The noise softens. You gain perspective.
Becoming the detached observer of your own mind means stepping back from the constant stream of thoughts and emotions, and observing them with curiosity rather than judgment. It’s about becoming aware of the patterns in your mind—the stories you tell yourself, the habits you’ve formed, the beliefs you carry.
This shift from player to observer is not about being passive or disengaged. It’s about choosing to step back so you can better understand what’s really going on.
This to me is one of the important leadership skills. It’s learning to notice when you are lost in the heat of the moment and choosing to pause, to breathe and to zoom out.
Because it’s in those quiet moments of observation that insight happens. You begin to see patterns. You spot what’s working and what’s not. You understand your reactions, your triggers, your assumptions.
And from that place, you can return to the field—not just as a player, but as a conscious leader of your own life.
Over the past few years, through my work as a leadership coach and trainer, I’ve had both the luxury -and the challenge – of constantly training myself in this practice of self-awareness.
What works for me is creating micro-moments of silence throughout the day – brief pauses to check in and notice when I’m slipping into an unhelpful thought pattern. It might be a wave of self-doubt, a fear of failure or conflict, a sense of overwhelm creeping in.
In the past, these moments might have swept me away without me even realizing it. Now, I’m learning to catch them. Not perfectly, and not always immediately but often enough that it makes a difference.
And when I do notice, there’s a soft, knowing smile on my face: a quiet acknowledgment that I have returned. And that, in itself, I feel is a small act of leadership.
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