March 10, 2026 | Issue Archive
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A Personal Note
Hey there, my friend...
I'm getting ready for upcoming keynotes in Columbus, Atlanta, and Salt Lake City... but I'm also still thinking about last week in Nashville.
I was there as the closing keynote speaker for AGRiP — the Association of Government Risk Pools. If you happened to be in the room: welcome to the community, and thank you.
I love being in the room with an audience, but I also love reading what the message meant to people afterward. Someone called it "an enlightening look at how to change outcomes in a positive, healthier way." Another said it was "a talk that provides the tools to let go and step into the unknown."
That's what this work is for.
The fact that Megan joined me for this trip made it extra meaningful. Nashville is where I was living when we first met... so we got to revisit a few of our early date spots and take in some live music — because in Nashville, you take in live music.
And somewhere in the middle of all of it I told her what I've always felt: that Nashville still feels like home. Not because I live there, but because so much of who I am was shaped there. I'm glad we're still making memories there.
I came to Nashville originally to play piano. Dreamed of being in a band. Did some auditions. Played for a few people. Played with a few people. Nothing ever quite panned out.
The last real swing I took was auditioning for Lee Greenwood's band. When that didn't happen, I changed course and ultimately landed where I am now.
But check this out:
The day after my keynote last week, Lee Greenwood performed in the same hotel.
Almost 30 years after that audition.
When I found out he was going to be there — I'd just walked off the stage where I'd told that very story — all I could think was:
Wow. Life. Always.
And the question I ask on stage about courage and comfort — the one I had not yet discovered when I was 19 — is the same one I want to leave you with today...
The Question That Rewires Your Brain
I'm going to ask you something.
Answer honestly — just to yourself.
Would you rather stay comfortable — familiar patterns, predictable outcomes, the same reliable cycle of effort and disappointment — and keep getting the same results you've been getting?
Or step into discomfort — the unknown, the awkward conversation, the risk of being seen without your armor — and get the thing you actually want?
On the surface, that sounds easy.
Obviously choose the reward. Obviously step into growth.
Who would voluntarily choose to stay stuck?
Almost everyone. Almost every time.
Not because they're weak.
Because the brain is wired for survival — and survival means certainty — and certainty means the familiar.
Seeking comfort isn't a character flaw.
It's a neurological default.
Left to its defaults, your brain will almost always choose the known over the unknown. Even when the known is making you miserable. Even when the known stopped working years ago.
Unless something interrupts the pattern.
Here's the neuroscience hack buried in that question:
When you ask "Would you rather?" — something shifts.
Your brain stops evaluating comfort.
It starts evaluating cost.
Suddenly the Brave Choice isn't the hard option.
It becomes the obvious one.
That's not willpower. That's not motivation.
That's a pattern interrupt — and it works every time.
I've asked this question in rooms full of leaders for years.
Last week in Nashville, 39% of the room chose Courage as their #1 focus. Not a concept. Not inspiration.
A decision they made in the room.
One person wrote afterward: "Fear is not the sign you are doing something bad. It means you are doing something big."
They didn't need more information.
They needed the right question.
This Ends Now
The belief that staying stuck is the safe choice.
Familiar isn't safe.
It's just known.
And known isn't the same as good.
This Moment Matters
Ask yourself the question right now.
Whatever you've been avoiding — the conversation, the decision, the ending you keep postponing — put it in the frame:
Would you rather stay comfortable and keep getting this result... or step into discomfort and get what you actually want?
Let your brain do the rest.
Thanks for being here, as always.
You've got this.
Up we go—