A recent business trip to Costa Rica allowed for a free day, which I decided to spend in the rainforest. Minutes into the hike, I found myself transfixed, not by the dramatic waterfall thundering nearby, but by something far quieter. A thin stream of water, barely noticeable, finding its way through a mossy crevice in a boulder. Not forcing. Not waiting. Just flowing.
It struck me as a perfect metaphor for the challenge that so many leaders encounter when trying to effect change: a paralysis that comes from believing that action must be big, bold or sweeping — or not worth taking at all.
The all-or-nothing trap
We are fed a constant diet of leadership mythology. Inc. magazine celebrates the bold pivot. LinkedIn surfaces the sweeping transformation. Business books canonize the turnaround CEO who walks in, blows everything up and rebuilds from scratch. These are the stories that rise to the top of our feeds, dominate the keynote stages and shape our unconscious definition of what real change leadership looks like. So, when leaders face a moment that calls for action, the bar they measure themselves against is legendary — and anything short of that feels like it doesn’t count.
The result? Paralysis. Not from lack of commitment or courage, but from a cultural narrative that has made “meaningful” synonymous with “monumental.” Too many leaders figure that if they can’t take that big swing, they might as well just sit it out on the bench.
The approach I thought was “all wet”
Early in my career, I had a manager who drove me quietly crazy. I wanted her to push harder, advocate louder and fight for the bolder changes we all agreed (including her) were necessary. But she wasn’t wired that way. Instead of vocally and forcefully standing up for what was needed, she worked methodically and quietly behind the scenes – engaging in conversations, building relationships, shifting perspectives, one (nearly insignificant to my mind) exchange at a time. I found it frustratingly slow and interpreted it as a lack of the bold leadership that was needed for change
Years later, I recognized (and now try to emulate) the wisdom of her approach. My boss wasn’t avoiding the hard work. She was doing it and doing it in the way that would actually last. She was leading like water. Leaning into the landscape. Finding the crevices where progress was possible. Moving sometimes slowly but always steadily through them. She brought people along with her — gently, the way a current carries a leaf downstream. No force. Just flow. Just like the stream of water I spotted in the rainforest.
And the changes she championed stuck.
What water knows about change
Look at the Grand Canyon. That extraordinary landscape wasn’t carved by a single cataclysmic event. It was shaped by water that flowed steadily for millions of years — working around barriers, exploiting soft spots and carving deeper wherever it found opportunity. Persistent. Patient. Purposeful. And, as a result, powerful.
The Colorado River – or any water source that keeps flowing forward – offers a potent model for today’s leaders. Current pressures, constraints and obstacles within the business landscape leave many leaders feeling like there’s little they can do to effect change. But “little” might be just the right long-term strategy. Take a lesson from water.
Bypass the boulder. Audit where you’re stalled and ask honestly: Am I waiting for conditions that may never arrive? The boulder may simply never move. But there’s almost always a crevice nearby to start working your way through.
Start small. Identify one relationship, one conversation, one tiny decision where progress might actually be possible today — and start there. Momentum builds upon itself.
Measure momentum, not magnitude. Resist the cultural pull to evaluate your leadership by the size of the swing. Consistent, purposeful action compounds over time in ways that single bold gestures rarely do. Celebrate the small advances and progress.
So, the next time you find yourself waiting for the perfect conditions, the right moment, the big swing — remember that thin stream of water in a Costa Rican rainforest. It wasn’t waiting for the rocks to move. And it didn’t need to be a waterfall. It was already quietly finding its way forward.
Opinions expressed by SmartBrief contributors are their own.
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