Tiny steps, huge shifts

Life has a way of dealing the most brutal, challenging cards. And it’s often in these crucible moments - the ones that bring us to our knees - that our mindset becomes our greatest companion or our harshest critic.

We rarely know the depth of our own resilience until we’re pushed to our edges, as one incredible member of the Mojo community has been discovering of late.

James wrote to us this week, mid-recovery, from where the light unexpectedly gets in:

I’ve been loving your Mojo juggernaut for a long time, attended the Melbourne book launch and have been reading Where the Light Gets In assiduously through the last few challenging weeks.

At 60, I’ve been thinking about how to approach the next 30 years. I’ve had a great unorthodox career in media, travel, communications and leadership; the kids have grown up and left home and I’ve been exploring ‘the things I loved doing when I was thirty’.

Perhaps I went at it a bit hard (one of my characteristic patterns) and I crashed my mountain-bike on the Creswick trails early in March, fracturing several vertebrae, ribs and my pelvis. I was airlifted to the trauma unit at the Royal Melbourne Hospital.

After 8 days of waiting (what an opportunity for mindfulness) and 7 hours of surgery I have some amazing hardware holding my pelvis together, and should be able to walk again from early May. Hopefully I’ll have a full recovery.

This challenge has offered me some wonderful lessons relevant to life, leadership and work, many of which you’ll find familiar:

1. While waiting 8 days for surgery in a busy, noisy hospital, unable to move, I decided I could only control 2 things: my breathing and my mindset (the way I thought about the challenge ahead). I set about letting go of everything I could not control, and controlling just those two things as well as I could.

2. I’m deliberately thinking about how my language determines my mindset. I don’t have to go through rehab and painful physio, I get to go through it, and that means it can be something to look forward to and enjoy.

3. I’m enormously grateful to every person who contributed to my care — from local emergency service volunteers, to MICA ambulance officers, to helicopter pilots, nurses, surgeons, doctors, anaesthetists, physios, family and friends. Every smile, kind word, email from colleagues is part of the team effort that’s getting me through.

4. This is a big challenge, which can seem overwhelming until I break it down into tiny steps, and just focus on the next one, and then the next one... Now I can dress and shower myself, and I couldn’t do that last week.

5. Humour and positivity make everything bearable. My wife and I find something to laugh about every day, even though laughing hurts!

6. Eating the frog feels great. Every day I get to give myself an injection and I’ve never liked needles. But now I can do that. I’ve let go of the fear and that makes me stronger, clearer and more capable.

In the attached pic, my wife had taken the dogs for a walk around the lake while I sat in the sunshine reading your book. It was the first time I’d been ‘out’ and it felt like heaven!

I’m getting better slowly. WTMWTD and Where the Light Gets In are helping. There’s no pressure, I’m up for the play and dreaming big.

Thanks for the inspiration and clarity,

James

What a masterclass in perspective.

6 simple but profound shifts to navigate the dark forest, and still find joy, hope and humour in the process.

Our greatest growth comes from our darkest times, learning to sit with uncertainty… and just focusing on the next small step forwards.

Thank you, James 🙏