The group I was traveling with arrived at our hotel for our final two nights in Guatemala. As we pulled into the parking lot, it was clear—this could have been the location for a season of White Lotus.

Picture this: you walk through a hotel lobby into an open-air restaurant that overlooks a deck. On the deck is a pool and an infinity hot tub, which is perched above a grassy slope that leads to Lake Atitlán. And what is across the lake? A volcano. I’m from the middle of the United States—it’s not every day I see a volcano.

It is no secret that I am a fan of good music. I am open to different genres, but if you give me a song with meaningful lyrics, a memorable melody, and harmonies that move my soul, I will likely be a fan.

Part of what I love about music is that it is an excellent example of teamwork. A great song isn’t about one instrument or one voice—it’s how all the pieces come together. The drums set the pace. The bass provides movement. The guitar adds texture. The vocals bring it to life.

I recently had the privilege of giving a keynote to a group of leaders. As I stood before them, I knew one thing for certain: I was in the forest.

Not just a lone tree standing tall, trying to weather the storms on my own. No, I was surrounded by other leaders—other trees, rooted and reaching. In that room, I wasn’t leading in isolation. I was part of something greater. A network of roots beneath the surface, unseen but essential. A canopy of wisdom above, providing shade and perspective. A collective strength that only exists when we stand together.

Last week, I was visiting my best friend in Tennessee. As we mapped out the agenda for the next day, she said, “Well, if you want to get up early…” Let’s pause here for a moment. Ninety-nine percent of the time, that’s a no for me, but I decided to hear her out.

“I found this place I think you’d love for breakfast,” she continued. “It’s in the middle of nowhere, and the menu is painted on the side of the building! I drove by it a few weeks ago and immediately thought of you.”

It was a snowy Saturday in January. I was wrapped up in two blankets, nestled deep into my oversized comfy chair while holding a big bowl of fresh popcorn dripping in butter. The stage was set for a perfect, lazy evening.

When I was a kid, my family moved several times. We first moved five hours away during the semester break when I was in Kindergarten. Our second move was two hours away the summer before my freshman year of high school.

I have a workshop that I enjoy doing with teams and organizations. At the heart of this particular session is the question, “What else could it be?” I share the idea that, as humans, we tend to make up a story when information is missing. My experience has been that we often fill our information gaps with negative things.