Stepping Into Leadership

Leadership is a complex human endeavor.

Leadership begins with following. How you carry yourself as a subordinate shapes your future as a leader.

Being a mindful leader starts with being a mindful follower.

Everyone remembers their first day stepping into a role where people were watching to see what they’d do. For some, it was the moment they realized they were no longer spectators—responsibility had a face, a task, or a title attached to it. Others remember standing there in a new uniform, new rank, new job, or new title, quietly wondering if they actually belonged. Sometimes all it took was a set of keys, a name badge, or a promotion to trigger the internal monologue: Don’t screw this up.

And almost everyone has lived that moment—walking into a room, a team, or a position—thinking: Do I actually know what I’m doing? My first day reporting for physical training at the Red Devil battalion wasn’t just an introduction to the unit. It was the start of my leadership journey and a phenomenal lesson in being a good subordinate.

As I walked up to our building, there were a ton of the unit’s personnel outside preparing to work out. They all wore the army fitness uniform, which is devoid of ranks or names.

One of the company commanders, who later became a mentor and a good friend, made a bit of a joke at my expense. He came over and started chatting with me very casually. When I didn’t snap to attention, his tone flipped, and he started barking at me about “So what? Now we don’t respect commissioned officers? And company commanders no less? The disrespect, and I’ll find out whatever you did wrong to the boss and end you for it. Just wait, I’ll find it.”

I was entirely out of my depth. Just a few nights earlier, we’d held a hail and farewell, where I’d been introduced to the battalion’s leadership. This type of event was a chance for them to put a name to my face and for me to grasp just how many relationships I still needed to build. What had I done to warrant such a reaction?

The truth was, I had already made a mistake before arriving in person. In my eagerness and attempt at aggressive professional development, I had emailed the battalion commander (BC) about a specialized school with minimal opportunity (Pathfinder School), framing it like I was going unless told otherwise.

His blunt reply by email: “We’re deploying. Get here now.” Later, he told every senior leader about my “request,” introducing me at a hail and farewell as the LT who had basically said, “Sir, I’m going to Pathfinder… F you.”

For a while, people believed that story. Eventually, they realized he was being dramatic, but the lesson for me stuck: leadership isn’t just about how you lead downward, it’s also about how you handle yourself upward.

In business, the same is true of an employee overstepping or challenging their hierarchy without realizing the potential consequences. Leaders at echelon will shape your reputation, but so will your own missteps as a subordinate.

Luckily, one of my peers, who became a great professional friend, showed up a few weeks later and had emailed the boss a correspondence that was misspelled and riddled with poor grammar. He got the name spelling bee, and I got the grace to make new and different mistakes as a subordinate leader.

Leadership starts with being a good follower and ends with the courage to go first when the outcome is uncertain.

The lesson was simple but unforgettable: before you can lead, you have to learn how to follow.

Every misstep as a new lieutenant, Ranger student, or cadet taught me that how you carry yourself in relation to others—upward to your bosses, sideways with peers, and downward to your team—sets the stage for every future opportunity to lead.

That truth doesn’t just live in awkward introductions or misplaced emails. It shows up in the highest-pressure moments, too. Whether in the field or in an aircraft at 1,200 feet, leaders and followers compress into a single instant where trust, presence, and decisiveness collide.

Likewise, A new employee stepping into their first big meeting faces the same invisible spotlight. Their actions either build credibility or create hesitation in the eyes of others. Just like on a battlefield or a drop zone, the environment may be different, but the principle is the same: people are watching, pressure is mounting, and leadership is about to be tested.

Those early lessons in being a subordinate taught me that leadership is never just about giving orders; it’s about learning how to follow with discipline, respect, and awareness. You don’t just inherit authority; you earn it by first showing that you can carry yourself well under someone else’s.

That foundation becomes critical when the stakes rise. Because one day, you’re no longer the new face in the room—you’re the one at the front of the line. And in that moment, people aren’t looking to see how well you follow. They’re waiting to see if you’ll have the courage to go first.

That’s what “Follow Me” means.

Imagine this now:

You’re jam-packed in the back of an aircraft at night, thousands of feet above the drop zone. You are tired, hungry, sore, and probably have to urinate like a racehorse, but there is no bathroom besides your pants.

You have a Jumpmaster, the leader of the aircraft. It doesn’t matter who else is onboard—rank, grade, or position—when it comes to the jump, the Jumpmasters are the decision-making authority. There’s a Primary, an Assistant, and at least one Safety to ensure you get out safely and effectively so you can do your job on the ground.

In that moment, leadership collapses into a single command. The red light flips to green. “Go.” The first paratrooper in the stick yells, “Follow me!” and steps into the darkness, combat equipment strapped tight, trusting that the system, the training, and the leadership will carry them safely into chaos below.

“Follow Me” is not just a phrase in that moment; it is the motto of the U.S. Army Infantry. And it’s the motto for a reason. Leadership, at its essence, is the act of going first, stepping into uncertainty, and trusting that others will come with you.

“Follow me” happens in all industries, from airplanes to boardrooms.

You’re sitting in a crowded conference room, the air is stale with coffee and stress. Everyone’s tired, checking phones under the table, and no one really wants to be there. The project deadline is looming like a storm cloud, and the weight of expectations is pressing down on every person in the room.

At the head of the table sits the meeting lead. In that moment, it doesn’t matter if there are executives, senior managers, or team leads present. The person running the meeting holds the authority to drive clarity, make decisions, and set the tone for the entire team.

When the moment comes, leadership collapses into a single command. The leader lays out the direction: “Here is what we will do. This is the problem. This is our solution. Here’s how we move forward.” Everyone around the table makes a choice—do they lean in, trust the plan, and act together, or do they hesitate?

In war, business, or sports, “Follow me” is more than a phrase. It is the difference between a team that stalls in fear and one that executes with confidence.

Chaos exists in combat and corporate.

***

FIG-14

Leadership is one of those fun concepts that everyone sees and defines differently, and none of them are entirely wrong.

Leadership exists to meet a societal need.

Control entropy.

Promote survival.

Organize chaos.

Fulfill selfish desires.

Cultivate culture.

Depends on the context and the people. Fundamentally, leadership is the function of organizing social and physical chaos. At baseline, humans are incredibly complex, and the various environments that they operate within can magnify that complexity.

Pause for a moment and imagine two people meeting.

One says, “Follow me.” What happens next?

That simple command, devoid of context, could lead to anything happening. Everything depends on the people involved: who they are, where they come from, what they’ve lived through, and what they value. It also depends on the social and physical context of the interaction: roles, expectations, the physical environment, social statuses —the list goes on and on.

How the interaction unfolds depends on hundreds of variables—cultural, emotional, social, and biological.

Face-to-face interactions dictate a set of possibilities that are much different from virtual or over-the-phone interactions.

Spontaneous interactions have many different outcome possibilities compared to planned engagement with intentions.

Belief, culture, social norms, and organizational norms all filter, focus, and fragment possibilities.

The pattern of sleep a person has affects the probability of their behavior, even when considering all other predictive variables.

The language spoken or not spoken, subtle and overt non-verbals, different dialects, or verbal innuendo all affect social interactions.

Diet, stress, and neurochemistry play a role; Caffeine and chocolate are drugs, too.

Suddenly, what started as a simple encounter, with me and that person being followed, becomes super complex when you start filling in the answers. Context, intention, tone, and countless other signals start influencing the range of outcomes.

What if one person says, “Do this to save your life.”

Or “Do this to save someone else’s life.”

Now, intention, urgency, and risk enter the equation. The paradigm shifts instantly.

“Do this or you’re fired.”

“Do that and you will be promoted.”

FIG-15: Complexity of human interactions.

As situational complexities deepen, the variance in potential outcomes shifts even more dramatically. Every social interaction is much like a formula with prescribed and dictated functions. Within these formulas are humans as individuals and groups. Every human is a composite formula—genetics, upbringing, cultural influences, emotional patterns, intelligence, neurological wiring, and even psychopharmacology.

Most of us are shaped by the environment more than we admit. Change the environment, and reactions change. Push someone far enough—even someone deemed “mild-mannered” and you may uncover an entirely different version of them.

Run the same interaction a thousand times and you’ll get different outcomes because variability is inevitable. Run it a million times and patterns emerge, but patterns aren’t certainty. They’re probability. Leadership sits in that space between chaos and prediction.

Introduce a second or third person, and the equation gets exponentially more complex. Now consider the context, location, the operating environment—weather, noise, proximity, technology. Every little thing can tip the scale.

Human interaction is a probabilistic dance. Our brains shortcut with heuristics—internal shortcuts formed by past experiences and biases.

Those shortcuts obscure just how rich and chaotic each encounter truly is. Psychology and neuroscience show us that perception is subjective—yet most people walk through life unaware of how much they filter and edit what they see.

Human interaction is inherently chaotic, but social structure forms to organize the chaos. Leadership is that social structure that guides and molds human behavior. There is a lot of variability, and the endeavor is already complex and fraught with organic and artificial challenges.

Chaos (People + Environment + Variables)

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Leadership

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Organized Behavior & Outcomes

Leadership is a complex solution to a complex societal need: organization. Mindful leaders understand the inherent complexities of human interaction and prepare themselves and maintain awareness constantly to be successful.

***

Try This

• Run your own thought experiment. Think of a recent moment where you led or were led.

• What were the hidden variables—context, tone, urgency, trust, environment?

• Draft your own leadership thought experiment. What variables matter most in your experience?

• What variables influenced your last leadership moment?

• What variables were easily noticed, and which required more intentional mindfulness?

***

Reflection

• How does my definition of leadership compare to yours?

• What variables would you add or remove from the scenario?

• Where do you agree? Where do you disagree?

***

Watch Out For

Leaders fall short when they:

- Are not mindful of the complexities behind individuals, groups, and interactions.

- Ignore context, culture, or environment.

- Confuse authority with true leadership.

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Key Takeaway

Whether in war, business, sports, or family, the same truth holds: leadership is guiding people through complexity. It is stepping into uncertainty and bringing others with you—whether out the door of an aircraft, into a boardroom, or onto the field.

***

Legacy Note

Authentic leadership is the courage to enter the chaos and the ability to shape what emerges from it. Leadership is about recognizing the infinite variables at play and guiding people through them. Leadership is not built in isolation. The way you carry yourself as a subordinate leaves a residue. For better or worse, that residue follows you into your own leadership roles.

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MiQ Note

Leadership begins with acknowledging the complexity. Every variable you can see, measure, or anticipate raises your Mindfulness Intelligence Quotient. The clearer you see the chaos, the more effectively you can lead through it.

***

So What?

Human interaction is infinitely complex, shaped by context, culture, biology, and perception. Left unchecked, that complexity becomes chaos. Leadership is the act of stepping into that chaos and giving it form, organizing uncertainty into direction.

Without leadership, complexity overwhelms individuals, but with leadership, people find clarity and the courage to act together.

Leadership Success

Leadership success is measured by results achieved and the legacy left behind.

The mindfully intelligent leader has a specific definition of success grounded in mindfulness: results achieved through a legacy left.

I still remember the weight of the doorknob before I turned it.

My first real battalion commander. Not the training ones in charge of administration, not the fake ROTC labels. The real deal.

A year after graduating from college, infantry officer basic, ranger school, and airborne school, I was finally doing the thing. This was my first real counseling. First time I’d be face-to-face with someone whose reputation was already bigger than the building we were in.

He had the résumé—combat deployment, commands, tab and badges, stacks of achievements plastered on the walls of the office that spoke louder than any introduction.

I’d heard his name long before I met him. In that world, legend usually arrives before the leader.

We called it an initial counseling, but it wasn’t the paperwork formality people imagine in corporate settings. This wasn’t orientation. This was being called into the office of someone whose words could shape your future or end it before it began.

Superior to subordinate. Expectation and consequence are separated by a desk and a pair of eyes on a leader and warrior.

Coach wasn’t just competent; he was the kind of leader people talked about years after they left him. Communicator. Commander. Teacher. Mentor. Architect of standards you could feel but couldn’t always see. I didn’t yet understand how rare that combination was. I assumed all great leaders were like him.

My battalion commander, the man sitting across from me for that first counseling, had a presence that hit you before he spoke. Everyone who served under him in those years agreed: he was intense. Razor-sharp intelligence, humor with an edge, and eyes that made you wonder if he already knew how you would answer the questions he was about to ask.

I walked in, bracing for orders. Standards. Maybe a lecture about readiness, discipline, or the thousand invisible expectations no one writes down but everyone is judged against. I’d already rehearsed responses in my head—“Yes, sir,” “Understood,” “Roger that.” I thought I was prepared.

Instead, he ambushed me with a question I didn’t see coming.

When you’re new, success seems straightforward: don’t fail, don’t look stupid, complete the mission, hope someone notices. That was my definition. That was my ceiling.

“How do you define success?”

Not “how was Ranger School?”

Not “are you ready to get to work?”

Not “What are your strengths and weaknesses?”

I froze.

I said something about winning battles or accomplishing missions—whatever scrambled nonsense I thought sounded right in the moment. He shut it down immediately.

“Absolutely not,” he said. No hesitation, no soft landing. Then he laid it out in a way that rewired something in me.

“Success is the legacy you leave behind you.

You and I aren’t important. One day, you may take my job, and I’ll move on, and so will you. We will leave, but the people and the organization stay.

They’ll become the next platoon sergeants, the first sergeants, the ones in charge. That is how I want you to define success.”

I didn’t have a response. Not because I disagreed, but because I realized I’d never actually thought about it.

That moment didn’t feel dramatic then. But looking back, it was the first time someone shattered the idea that success was about what I could achieve. He’d quietly handed me a truth I wouldn’t fully understand for years:

Success isn’t just what happens in the room.

It’s what happens long after you’re gone.

I didn’t know it at the time, but that one question was the start of how I understood leadership.

“Success is the legacy you leave behind you.”

Not your achievements. Not your image. Not the bullets on your evaluation. Legacy.

He reminded me that he’d leave one day, and so would I. Our names wouldn’t matter. The positions wouldn’t matter. What would matter were the people still there—because they’d be the ones who became the next leaders. The next standard-bearers. The next culture.

Whether they were better, worse, or unchanged because of us—that was the real measure of success.

I walked out of that initial counseling with my head spinning, and I didn’t fully grasp why. But the question stayed with me, quietly grading me long before I ever graded anyone else:

• If success is legacy, who am I actually leading for?

• If I disappeared tomorrow, what—if anything—would remain?

• Can you really call yourself successful if nobody grows from your influence?

That was the first time I realized leadership doesn’t get proven in the moment; it gets proven in your absence.

It took years, dozens of teams, a handful of failures, and more than a few toxic counterexamples before I could fully understand what he meant. But that moment planted the seed that eventually led me to the idea of mindfulness intelligence—the ability to see yourself, your people, and your environment with clarity, and lead with intent instead of instinct.

Back then, I couldn’t explain it. Now I can:

Success isn’t the result you get while you’re in charge. Success is what survives you.

And that truth—whether we recognize it early or learn it the hard way—is where leadership really begins.

Leadership shows up everywhere because someone must always step forward to bring order to chaos.

***

Leadership exists at every level of human hierarchy; across cultures, eras, and social structures. Even in groups that claim to have no leader, someone eventually takes charge, sometimes subtly, sometimes directly.

You can see it even in micro-forms: the person who steps toward the elevator buttons and asks, “Which floor?” In that instant, they organize their environment. Leadership is situational, and context is everything.

It isn’t limited to titles or ranks. It can be formal or spontaneous. A bystander performing CPR is no less a leader than a CEO steering a company. The settings differ, but the essence is the same: someone assumes responsibility in a moment that matters.

Leadership also transcends industries and flows through every social circle. Winning a game, closing a deal, and building a family are all arenas where leadership naturally arises, shaping how people align and act together.

At its core, leadership is the social mechanism that guides successful human interaction. It blends artistic technique with a disciplined understanding of social science, moving people and shaping environments toward a shared end-state or goal. Leadership is an organic response to complexity: people instinctively seek structure, especially under pressure, because structure raises the probability of success.

Achieving results is critical for success as a leader. Leaders exist to get things done, but there is a delicate balance.

Accomplishment alone isn’t enough. A leader must achieve results and leave something lasting behind. Success is two-fold: measurable outcomes and the legacy imprinted on people and culture. Effective leaders generate both.

Throughout my career, I often found myself saying, “No, but…” or “Yes, but…” when decisions ignored the well-being of my soldiers or results came at too steep a cost for my organization.

I would stand against the grain when it mattered; pushing back on senior leaders, even when it meant risking my own evaluation or advancement. Some of those moments got heated. I’ve been told point-blank that I’d be crushed for not backing down.

But I refused to trade my people’s trust for optics. I took hits so they didn’t have to. And when soldiers saw me stand in the line of fire for them, it changed everything.

Missions and tasks got done, but more importantly, culture shifted. Years later, I still hear from those same soldiers; the respect and trust remained long after the results themselves were forgotten.

The same truth plays out in civilian life. In business, managers sometimes hit every quarterly target while burning out their teams. The numbers look good—until the people leave and performance collapses. Other managers take the long view, building trust and systems that outlast them. Results still come, but they come through the legacy left behind.

In negotiations, some agents push to win at all costs, squeezing every ounce out of a deal but leaving bitterness behind. The contract may close, but the reputation sours and referrals dry up. Others take a different approach, focusing on fairness and relationships. They still close the deal, but they also build trust that generates future clients, referrals, and goodwill. Over time, their leadership creates a system—a legacy that compounds results long after the ink is dry.

Some leaders hit results, but leave no legacy. Others inspire loyalty but never accomplish anything meaningful. Both are incomplete. True success requires both results achieved through legacy.

Legacy is not abstract; it’s a system. The way you treat people, the processes you build, the trust you foster. Legacy is the system that keeps producing results after you are gone. Metrics capture the moment, but legacy carries the organization forward.

Leadership isn’t neutral. It multiplies or it erodes success.

One selfish decision for personal credit can hollow out an organization. But one act of integrity—one moment of standing in the gap—can echo through a culture long after you’ve left.

Mindfulness strengthens this balance. Leaders who define success clearly, stay aware of themselves and their environment, and align process with purpose increase the odds of achieving results while building a legacy worth keeping. Awareness tempers ambition, shapes judgment, and protects teams and organizations from the costs of ego-driven or short-sighted leadership.

Results and Legacy measure real success in leadership.

Results fade quickly; legacy multiplies long after you leave the arena.

If you chase results without legacy, your success dies with you. If you build legacy without results, your people inherit emptiness. Leadership success is the result achieved through the legacy left.

***

Try This

Write down your own definition of leadership and success in one or two sentences. More if needed. Truly flesh it all out on a written page or a digital note. Then ask: what does my definition focus on and why? Maybe re-work it. Try injecting variables you haven’t thought of organically and see where it leads you.

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Reflection

• What do I currently value more: results, legacy, or something else entirely?

• Where in your life do you see leadership, either informally or formally?

• Who shaped my earliest definition of leadership?

• How has that definition evolved with experience?

• Does success look different in a different industry?

***

Watch Out For

• Reducing leadership to a title or position.

• Confusing management (tasks) with leadership (people and meaning).

• Being a leader is a never-ending job; don’t get complacent once you think you’ve made it.

***

Key Takeaway

Leadership success must be defined as both results achieved and legacy left. Without legacy, success is shallow. Without results, legacy is empty.

***

Legacy Note

The way you define leadership determines how you practice it. Define it too narrowly and you risk missing its deeper responsibilities. Define it fully—as results plus legacy—and you set a foundation that can endure.

***

MiQ Note

Raising MiQ means refining your definition of leadership as your awareness grows. The more clearly you can define what leadership is—and what success truly means—the more effectively you can practice it. MiQ is not a fixed score; it evolves as your perspective evolves.

So What?

Leadership is everywhere because humans need order to meet shared goals. Titles don’t make it happen; mindful leadership does. When you understand leadership as both an art and a science, you see why it matters: it’s the force that turns potential into coordinated effort. Recognizing this complexity prepares you to lead with intention instead of leaving outcomes to chance.

If you can’t define success, you’ll chase outcomes that don’t matter — and no one will remember your leadership once you’re gone.

Leadership in the Face of Challenge

Leaders generate success through a solid mastery of the game they play in their industry; they know the challenges and can lead their organizations to overcome them.

The purpose of leadership is to increase the probabilities for success by being mindful of the organic and inorganic challenges the leader and their organization face.

Leadership exists to achieve success in the face of challenges and chaos.

During my last time in command of Demon Company, my company was ordered to conduct a marathon-length ruck march. A ruck march generally refers to a tactical movement. Still, it would often be done in training as a major endurance-building exercise as well as tactical training to improve a group’s overall cohesion and lethality.

A ruck consisted of moving with full gear, full combat weight (thirty-five pounds dry, closer to forty-five pounds with water and gear, plus a weapon). Typically done under hours of limited visibility if physical training was the primary focus or during training exercises if lethality and cohesion were the primary focus.

For physical training, the standard distance across the Army is twelve miles in under three hours. As a physical training event, soldiers would line up and begin at the same time with the prescribed gear and packing list. They would move over the twelve miles and have to finish in under three hours.

Some military occupation specialties (MOS) or “jobs” claimed this standard as well to varying degrees of effectiveness. In the airborne infantry, your ability to move around with your stuff was paramount to success. All that to say, we were operating in an environment that valued ruck marching, but also ego and vanity.

My boss decided we would execute a marathon ruck march, 26.2 miles to tactical standard. For context, some Divisions or larger leadership echelons of thousands would “mandate” a twenty-five-mile ruck every quarter. The universal standard was twelve miles. In actuality, most combat arms units never rucked past twelve miles and if they did it was not a frequent occurrence. In reality, most units especially non-infantry or non-combat units never rucked at all.

This was an ego-driven vanity exercise, meant to impress higher command. No legitimate reason. No mandated training. No analysis. Just outrageous, unnecessary, and incredibly challenging. Objectively speaking we were being told to execute a task that was over twice the published organizational standard and had costs that were far greater than just doubling the digits of the distance. Diminishing returns and marginal costs were sorely under-analyzed.

Every industry has a version of this vanity directive. An erroneous deadline, an over-inflated initiative, or a useless metric that makes no sense, but still lands on your plate. It wasn’t until I started to delve into the science of endurance sports such as marathons and triathlons that I realized how woefully unprepared we were as individual leaders and as an organization.

Some companies tried to prepare with fifteen to sixteen milers and a “train-up” that was not properly assessed, validated, or controlled. Their soldiers got hurt.

I chose differently.

Leaders provide purpose for people and systems to generate output. Then they monitor and lead as necessary to overcome obstacles, challenges, and achieve success in chaos.

I knew the physical training limits of my company. I knew that any attempt at a last-minute “train-up” would just lead to an increase in risk of injury and debilitate us for the day of execution.

I had been leading my company in their daily regimen of physical training with guidance geared toward their incremental preparation. Organizationally, I expected them all to work out for ten hours a week at a minimum during a full work week.

They had made the necessary efforts to set them up for the potential for success. The key to achieving this milestone would be in the execution.

I briefed my formation of Demons the evening before we began:

“This is going to suck. It’ll be slow. But we’ll finish. Together. If someone struggles, we help them. If they fall, we pick them up. If you choose to be weak and collapse, we will carry you and your equipment until you cross the finish line. Nobody gets left. We all make it back, no matter what. That’s the only option.”

I looked at every single one of them in the eyes. There was tension and anxiety. This was going to be terrible.

We stepped off as one. I set a sustainable, but effective pace. Other companies broke apart, letting soldiers push individually. At the last minute, the leadership had changed their minds about the event and made it an individual effort. I mandated that we stay together.

While other organizations filtered themselves into their own various groups based on individualistic perceptions of the challenge. Ours stayed together. The power of the many beats the challenges faced by the individual.

That was a long night. A painful night. I had blisters pop, re-form, and pop again, all well before the ending. I can’t imagine the struggles that my individual Demons faced, but I could see and hear enough to know the physical challenges they faced.

But we kept on. Taking a few breaks as necessary for a minor amount that needed it. There were tensions. Some leaders wanted to push harder. Some wanted to go slower. I kept my resolve and stayed the course.

We would do this together. Together, we crossed the arbitrary distance well ahead of the time required to finish the event. The results attested to the process. We had the fewest injuries overall, and the ones that we did sustain were minor.

The event tested all six companies of the battalion, a total of over 700 paratroopers. We had the highest completion, and my entire company finished together as the first group back. Not because we were the fastest or strongest. We weren’t collectively known for either feat; we were an airborne mechanized anti-tank company, notoriously bad at dismounted marches.

We succeeded because we stayed together. Because that had been the system and the process for my people since day one. Unity of effort against hardship and chaos. Together we endured. We finished. We re-forged identity through shared hardship and struggle, as we had been doing for months and months before the challenge.

Because we believed. Because we moved as one. Because leadership at each echelon of my organization over the time we spent building the culture carried us all past the challenge.

Challenges can fracture people or forge them. The difference is leadership turning chaos into cohesion.

***

Leadership is a response to requiring success in the face of chaos and challenges.

Success in leadership is measured in two ways: results achieved and legacy left. Leaving a legacy is itself a form of results—evidence that something you built outlasted you.

Both measures come with organic struggles and external pressures that are specific to the industry and generalized across industries. If there are no challenges, there is less of a societal or institutional need for leadership.

Deadlines, meetings, product generation, meeting organizational goals, and achieving tasks dictated by your one and two levels up are challenges that transcend industry. Talent management, resource allocation, and prioritization of efforts are additional internal organic leadership challenges regardless of industry.

Then there are industry-specific challenges, requiring subject matter expertise in that field. Passing the United States Army Jumpmaster school was a prerequisite skill that the 82nd mandated all commanders and first sergeants to possess before assuming Command. The cause of this requirement stemmed from the industry-specific challenges. Realtors need a certain amount of domain knowledge to lead teams and brokerages. Other industries have pipelines, tracts, or experience stairways to give leaders the minimum amount of exposure to their subject matter to help them with the industry-appropriate challenges, generally. At the same time, they continue to develop professionally as a leader.

I had significantly fewer leadership challenges as a seasoned lieutenant or a company commander after I had served as a leader in the organization for a certain amount of time. I understood the organic and inherent challenges associated with our industry-specific requirements.

When we came back from our second deployment, I had served as the battalion Air Officer for almost a full year. That, in tandem with my experience at the various jobs related to airborne operations, allowed me to be a successful leader.

We had new captains who had never been exposed to our specific culture. They were unaware of a lot of nuances from that lack of experience. As a junior leader, I provided a lot of valuable insight and leadership that my “senior” leaders relied on because they themselves didn’t have the level of experience yet to do the same.

These leaders with less domain knowledge were successful to various degrees because they had built up leadership-specific skills that fit the bill for those requirements. Then the ones who were successful and mindful of their lack of subject matter experience leaned on subject matter experts like myself and others in the organization to weigh in on the industry-specific challenges.

Subject matter expertise helps a leader overcome industry challenges to achieve success.

Challenges require a leader to possess a fundamental skill set in leading and then leading in that industry. Without a good combination of both, leadership will face additional unnecessary struggles and hardship.

Fundamentally, leaders and their organizations face challenges. Leaders must overcome these challenges to organize chaos and move people and systems toward a goal.

Mindful leaders understand the full spectrum of obstacles before them and are aware of themselves, their strengths, and their weaknesses. This understanding of challenges, for example, from human nature and those imposed by circumstance, allows them to lead more effectively.

Mindful leaders leverage subject-matter expertise, industry knowledge, and leadership skills to transform uncertainty into direction. Systems and people are the engines that generate outputs, but leadership is the force that aligns them toward purpose.

At its core, leadership is the craft of setting an organization up for the highest probability of success. It is an enterprise fraught with internal and external friction, with surprises and intentional pressures alike. Leaders tame disorder through processes and structures while pouring their personal purpose into both. They must do—and inspire others to do—in the face of individual and collective hardship.

Have you ever been led—or had to lead—through a moment of extraordinary difficulty? A task demanding peak performance with little preparation or margin for error? The true question isn’t just how it went but why. Leadership is as much about ensuring that others are prepared for challenges as it is about confronting them yourself.

Leaders get things done. They know. They act. They become something greater than just themselves as individuals.

Leadership is the act of influencing people and shaping environments to achieve a purpose beyond the self. It multiplies human potential, turning individual effort into collective momentum.

A leader also serves as a living emblem of something larger: an organization, a position, a set of values or ideals. Their work leaves a mark: systems designed, processes refined, people coached, teams inspired, cultures shaped. Every leader, for good or ill, leaves behind a residue of their choices.

Leadership is a sociological form of synergy.

Synergy refers to the chemical reaction where the interaction of two elements produces an outcome far greater than expected. One plus one becomes three, ten, or a thousand (1+1=10, 1,000, or -25). Leaders are the catalysts: the spark that allows individuals, together, to become more than the sum of their parts.

Mindful leaders are synergistic multipliers for achieving success in the face of obstacles and uncertainty.

Leadership is the catalyst that turns pressure, people, and purpose into something greater than the sum of its parts.

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Try This

Think of a challenge you’ve faced—or are facing now—that feels outrageous or unnecessary. Frame it and then reframe it so you can see the unifying identity for your people. Think about upcoming potential challenges and hurdles. Define how you will prepare yourself and your organization for success through the hardship.

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Reflection

• When was the last time I faced something that felt impossible?

• How did my leadership—or my leader’s leadership—shape the outcome?

• Did it break the group or bond it tighter?

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Watch Out For

• Passing down impossible tasks without context or ownership.

• Focusing only on completion, not cohesion.

• Letting individuals face challenges alone instead of as a team.

• Taking on challenges driven by ego rather than purpose.

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Key Takeaway

Challenges expose culture. Leaders who prepare their people to face the impossible together can transform adversity into pride, cohesion, and performance.

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Legacy Note

The burdens you carry as a leader don’t vanish; they become the stories, culture, and habits your people inherit. Make sure what you pass down is worth carrying.

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MiQ Note

High-MiQ leaders see challenge as more than a test of strength. They recognize the deeper layer: how people experience adversity together shapes trust, identity, and long-term success.

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So What?

When chaos arrives, leadership is the deciding variable. Without it, challenge fractures people into isolation. With it, challenge becomes cohesion, and cohesion becomes culture. The leader is the catalyst that organizes chaos into outcomes worth remembering.

When chaos hits, leadership is the variable that decides whether people fracture as individuals or fuse together collectively.