Be the parent that has the slowest heartbeat, the most relaxed body, the emptiest mind. Be this so you can coregulate your children. Our eldest son had a very complex day at school yesterday. Let’s leave it at that. Big feelings, big lessons learned, big conversations. He was completely overwhelmed when we picked him up. Tears and all. But because we have redesigned our life for the last 8 years around present parenting, flexible remote work schedules, and intentional slowness, we were able to take him for a walk in the forest, listen to everything that happened in the day, and connect in the way he needed us to be there for him. Yesterday was a massive moment for the growth and development of his character and it was essential that we were there as his parents, in a nonstressed state. I haven’t been able to stop thinking “what would happen if @franziskagonder and I both worked corporate jobs and could never be there when our kids need us for this?” And then I remember that this is a big part of why so many adults turn out the way they do.

Many know me as an optimist, a motivator—someone who always believes there's a way forward. And while that’s true, it’s not because life has been easy. I’ve been to dark places in my mind, faced my greatest fears, and, at times, lived through them. What I’ve learned is that the hardest days haven’t come from external events but from battles within—ones created by my own thoughts. This post is for my younger self and anyone who needs to hear it: what I’ve learned about not being okay... 1️⃣ It’s okay to not be okay. Beating yourself up for feeling bad only makes it worse. Let yourself feel without self-judgment. 2️⃣ It’s also okay to just be okay. You don’t need to be happy, positive, or grateful all the time. Neutral is fine. Existing is enough. 3️⃣ Before you label your feelings, check the basics. Ask yourself: ° Have I slept enough? ° Moved my body? ° Gotten fresh air? ° Drunk enough water? ° Eaten real food? ° Avoided excess alcohol/caffeine? ° Limited social media? ° Talked to a friend? ° Expressed my feelings (journal, art, venting)? If the answer to one or more is no, start there before overanalyzing your emotions. 4️⃣ Mood follows action. Do something small—take a walk, do five pushups, make a list, buy groceries. Small wins build momentum. 5️⃣ Exercise is medicine. A walk outside. 15 minutes of bodyweight work. A Peloton ride. Lifting to your favorite playlist. Move your body. It changes everything. 6️⃣ Social media isn’t helping. Those apps hijack your dopamine and leave you feeling worse. People post their highlights, not their struggles. If you’re feeling off, detox from the noise. 7️⃣ Lack of expression can feel like depression. Maybe something inside you needs to come out. Cry. Scream into a pillow. Make art. Call a friend. Give your feelings somewhere to go. 8️⃣ You’re not broken—maybe the system is. If your job’s hours feel inhumane, if parenting feels impossible, if screens drain your soul, maybe the problem isn’t you. As Jiddu Krishnamurti said: “It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.” 9️⃣ Conflict doesn’t mean catastrophe. Struggling with tension in a relationship—romantic, familial, professional? Conflict is normal. Growth comes from learning to navigate it, not avoiding it. 🔟 Your emotions are valid, no matter your circumstances. Don’t guilt yourself for feeling down when things seem “fine.” Emotional lows exist at every stage of life—success doesn’t erase them. 1️⃣1️⃣ "This too shall pass." The good and the bad. No state is permanent. Ride the wave. 1️⃣2️⃣ Marcus Aurelius: "Discard anxiety." Much of what we stress about isn’t worth the energy we give it. Control what you can, release what you can’t. 1️⃣3️⃣ You don’t have to go through this alone. If dark thoughts persist, seek professional help. There’s nothing weak about seeing a therapist or coach. Asking for help is strength. 💙 You’re not alone in this. Keep going.

I used to resist my wife’s insights. Not because I didn’t trust her—but because they challenged the way I understood truth. She would express something deeply felt, something coming from her intuition, her divine feminine. And to me? It often seemed too emotional, too unsubstantiated, too… inconvenient. But I’ve come to realize something profound: Some of the best insights she ever shared—the ones that shaped me most as a father, husband, and leader—were also the most emotionally charged. That’s when the divine feminine came through the strongest. Not from randomness or reaction, but from deep transformational work she had done on herself—work that tuned her into a realm of wisdom I wasn’t yet comfortable with. And my resistance? It wasn’t about her. It was about me. It was about the story I was telling myself about what was “true,” “real,” and “valid” in the world. Like many men, I had been shaped by a system of thought that prioritizes rationality above all else. From the scientific revolution to modern psychology and economics, we’ve been taught that truth is best measured in data, logic, and empirical proof. Thinkers like Descartes, Newton, and Daniel Kahneman have given us invaluable frameworks for understanding the world—ones that have shaped science, technology, business, and leadership as we know them today. But these frameworks, as powerful as they are, lean heavily toward the masculine—toward what can be observed, quantified, and controlled. What they often miss is the intelligence of intuition. The knowing that isn’t always logical but is no less valid. The felt sense of truth that arises not from numbers but from deep, embodied wisdom—a wisdom that, historically, has been more associated with the feminine. And nowhere is this more damaging than in intimate relationships. Men are often blind to how much they hold their relationships back simply by dismissing their partner’s emotionally driven input. We tell ourselves: 💭 She’s overreacting. 💭 She’s being too sensitive. 💭 She’s making this a bigger deal than it needs to be. But what if… she’s not? What if, in those moments when she’s the most emotionally activated, she’s actually the most tuned in? What if that’s when her wisdom is at its peak—because she’s seeing something we can’t? I’ve had to learn this lesson the hard way. In the past, my instinct was to push back against what I couldn’t logically explain. But when I've chosen (hint: I'm still a work in progress) to put aside my ego and actually listen—when I've stopped needing everything to be “rational” before I took it seriously—something changed. Our relationship has deepened. Each time. I show up as a better husband, a better father, a better man. Because true leadership in a relationship isn’t about always having the most rational argument. It’s about honoring an entirely different way of thinking and feeling. When men begin to trust and integrate the emotional intelligence of their partners, everything shifts: 🔥 Arguments de-escalate faster—because the goal stops being “winning” and starts being “understanding.” 🔥 Deeper intimacy forms—because she feels heard instead of dismissed. 🔥 Stronger decisions are made—because logic and intuition are both given a seat at the table. Rationality and intuition aren’t opposites. Logic and emotion aren’t at war. The most grounded, complete men are the ones who can hold both—who can expand beyond what they’ve been taught and embrace a more holistic way of navigating life. So I’ll leave you with this question: Have you ever resisted your partner’s insight—only to later realize she was right? P.S. I <3 you @franziskagonder

"Discipline is for amateurs." The real pros? They draft off the momentum of those who reflect their deepest values and who they fundamentally care about. I learned this early. In college, I struggled to wake up early, to push myself, to stay consistent. Then I found the right friends—not just accountability partners, but people whose core values resonated so deeply with mine that their disappointment would mean more than any external punishment. One friend in particular changed my trajectory. We didn't just set goals; we created a shared vision of who we wanted to become. Our check-ins weren't mechanical—they were intimate conversations about our growth, our struggles, our shared aspiration to live with integrity. My progress didn't accelerate because of rigid discipline. It accelerated because I found connection—a network of relationships where accountability was an expression of mutual care and shared values. Years later, I hit another wall. I was in my 20s, showing up inconsistently to aikido practice. One morning, after I skipped another session, my 83-year-old sensei invited me for coffee. With tears in his eyes, he said: "I can't lose you. You're too damn good to lose." In that moment, it wasn't about discipline. It was about being seen—truly seen—by someone who believed in my potential more than I believed in myself. Most men try to change alone. They set ambitious goals but miss the fundamental truth: meaningful change happens in relationship, not isolation. Take James (name changed), a CEO who spent years trying to establish a consistent morning routine. His transformation wasn't about finding more willpower, but about finding a community where he felt genuinely understood and cared for. This is the difference: ° Casual accountability asks: "How's it going?" ° Radical accountability says: "I see your struggle, and I'm here because I believe in who you're becoming." ° Casual accountability accepts excuses. ° Radical accountability understands the deeper emotional barriers preventing growth. ° Casual accountability celebrates intention. ° Radical accountability nurtures genuine transformation through empathy and connection. The most powerful accountability isn't about external pressure. It's about creating relationships where: ° Your growth matters deeply to others ° Your potential is seen and honored ° Accountability feels like an act of love, not punishment So—who in your life sees your true potential? Who cares about your growth not just as a goal, but as a reflection of your shared values? If you can't name them, it's time to transform your understanding of accountability. Your potential is too sacred to be left to willpower alone—it requires connection, care, and genuine relationship. ... P.S. In this picture my puppy Spirit is holding me accountable to sharing more of my thoughts on X...

@schlaf Thanks Steve! Loved your recent newsletter.

My wife advises senior leaders at Meta, Amazon, the Aspen Institute, and governments worldwide. Her work focuses on helping them use their nervous systems to boost performance and lead better. In Feb she is leading a workshop open to the public, as part of her growing community. Register here:

“Mood follows action.” — Rich Roll

In 2024, my wife and I made some radical choices: ° Moved our family to a new country ° Left the employee life to found something new again ° Pulled our kids out of the school system and started hybrid homeschooling These choices haven't been easy or conventional, and they're not always understood by everyone around us. But they've revealed something important: who our most open-minded, curious friends are. They've reinforced that my family and I are committed to thinking critically—not just about our children's future, but about how we wish to show up in the world. What I've learned is that asking better questions is perhaps the most important skill for making decisions that align with our family's core values. In a world of increasing complexity, the right questions help us navigate toward peace, harmony, and purpose. A few key lessons from our journey: 1. Own your alternative choices. Not everyone will understand your decisions, and that's okay. Your choices come from critical thinking, earned experience, and core values. 2. Create calm adventures. Home isn't a place; it's the calm, regulated nervous system you create. Adventure doesn't have to mean adrenaline—it can be as simple as curiosity and exploration. 3. Celebrate shared stories. The real legacy of your family won't be the successes or milestones—it'll be the stories you create together. 4. Connect before correcting. Every time you rush to correct your kids, you miss a chance to connect. Pause. Listen. Meet them where they are. The older I get, the more questions I have—and the fewer answers. But I'm learning that's exactly where growth happens.

Yesterday morning, watching my son climb out of the car, time seemed to fold in on itself. In that single breath between his seat belt clicking and his backpack swinging onto his shoulder, I saw years flash by - and something inside me cracked open. I reflected on all the times I'd rushed him in the past. "Put on your shoes, we're going to be late." "Finish your food, it's bedtime." "Just one more email, buddy." Each time, I told myself it was about teaching patience, about meeting responsibilities, about the realities of a world that runs on schedules and deadlines. There's a cruel irony in this pattern: The very sense of urgency that serves us so well in our early careers - helping us build the stability we need to start families - becomes a deeply ingrained habit that undermines our ability to be present, conscious parents. The drive that helped create the foundation for family life becomes the very thing that prevents us from fully showing up for it. When we allow these external pressures to visibly shake our center - when we lose our cool over being late or missing a deadline - we're passing along to our children the very same anxiety we struggle with. It raises a profound question: Do we want our children to inherit a psychological prison of constant urgency, or can we model how to hold personal responsibility and integrity without the crippling weight of perpetual unease? Recognizing this, I've made intentional choices over the past year to reduce time scarcity in our lives. We moved abroad, shifted priorities, created more space. Yet I've noticed an interesting pattern: the human tendency to fill any void with new commitments. Even with fewer "urgent" obligations, I can still catch myself rushing through moments with the same intensity - just with lower stakes. A hobby project becomes the new urgent email. A social gathering becomes the new deadline. Even as we free ourselves from external time pressures, we often recreate them internally. This speaks to a deeper irony that's been hiding in plain sight: In our rush to prepare our children for a world of time scarcity, we risk teaching them that love itself is time-scarce. That connection comes second to completion. That efficiency trumps presence. The truth? Sometimes things really do need to get finished. Sometimes we really are running late. But I'm grateful for the awareness that helps me question the story I tell myself about urgency. Because while we're racing to check boxes and meet deadlines - even self-imposed ones - time is doing what it does best - slipping away, taking with it opportunities for the kind of deep presence that no amount of productivity can replace. Perhaps the greatest efficiency paradox is this: The more we rush to "make time" for what matters, the more we miss the very moments we're trying to preserve. I'm curious - how do you navigate this tension between time's finite nature and the infinite depth that true presence requires?

When I was 16, I gave up a precious summer to completely change the trajectory of my life. At the time, I was just a regular teenager—no big goals, no clear future, and honestly, a pretty mediocre attitude. But I knew I wanted more. That summer, I enrolled in an SAT bootcamp (where I was literally the lowest-scoring student in the class), and one teacher, Mr. M, changed everything. He saw my ambition, encouraged it, and challenged me to do something bold. He suggested I write a letter to Al Gore with a proposal I’d been brainstorming. I didn’t stop there—I followed up, called his office, and that one idea snowballed into a statewide environmental initiative for students. That initiative ultimately helped me land a scholarship to my dream university. Yesterday, nearly 19 years later, I got to thank Mr. M in person. It was one of those full-circle moments that really hits you. He shared with me that, as a kid, he also needed someone to see potential in him before he could see it in himself. Once his fire was lit, he earned a scholarship to a college his family couldn’t afford, pursued his dreams relentlessly, and today he’s one of the top screenwriters in Hollywood, writing for some of Netflix and Prime’s biggest shows. Hearing his story reminded me why I’ve always been so passionate about helping others see the potential in themselves—because someone once did it for me. This is what it’s all about: paying it forward. Let’s all find ways to keep the fire going for others. You never know where it might lead.

RT @naval: Virtues are the rules that, if widely adopted by individuals, lead to win-win outcomes for all of society.

Thank you to everyone for the amazing 35th bday wishes🥳! For the first time since I can remember, I really felt like I was giving myself permission to celebrate myself and allow myself to be celebrated. Like many men I know, I’m good at giving but struggle when it comes to receiving. But this year I didn’t deflect compliments, I fully felt into and let myself bathe in the love that my wife, children, parents, parents in law, sister in law, puppy, and friends sent my way. The day was a truly joyful occasion. We spent breakfast as a family, where pretty much everyone gifted me journals (the only present they know I like!), then I went to a cafe and wrote my birthday letter, shortly before surfing with my 9 year old (who’s caught far more waves!), and then heading to downtown Lisbon for a wellness hotel weekend with the love of my life. We walked through the Christmas lights along the harbor (best I’ve ever seen, Lisbon!), enjoyed incredible sushi, lifted weights together in the dark after the power went out in the hotel gym, hit the sauna and steam room, planned out 2025, had long conversations about nothing and everything, also enjoyed long silences and fully enjoyed our time together as a couple. I love our kids but before there were children I fell madly in love with my wife and that hasn’t changed a bit. Over time you learn to love a person not just for how bright they are or how loving they can be on good days…and also not for how resilient they can be on bad days…but actually for how safe they allow themselves to feel around you in the moments when they don’t feel resilient, or strong, or like they have their shit together…and the same in reverse: how safe they make you feel in those moments when you don’t feel like you can show up as your best self. Grateful to have found and cultivated this love and level of emotional range.

“Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.” — Rilke

What’s the main difference between boys and men, among adult age males? For me: - boys run away from responsibility - men run toward it.

@imaginative_one Totally. 🥹

@jeffreyboadi_ 🙏

Today’s my 35th bday! What’s your fav story you remember of us together? Love to take a walk down memory lane! 🥳💚🙏

"Our biggest problem is we think we shouldn’t have them. ‘Cause problems are what make us grow. Problems are what sculpt our soul. Problems are what make us become more.” - Tony Robbins