Climate Before Content

Charley, Hannah, Holly and Taylor are our events team in the Learning Centre at Aviva in Perth.
They’re in charge of all of the policies, procedures and processes to ensure that operationally everything goes smoothly every day.
But most of all, they work so hard to ensure that every participant who attends the Lead the Way Leadership programme have a very positive experience, from start to finish.
They are just all so super organised and I’m amazed at all that they do.
Travel and transport sorted.
Hotels confirmed.
Room layouts perfect.
Team groups set up.
Name badges aligned with military precision etc.
Each of them is all a little mischievous – and like to have bit of fun too… 😉
Everyone arriving is greeted with warmth and with thought.

Our Climate

A few weeks ago, participants walked into the surprise of a proper Burns Day welcome – complete with a haggis treat.
Yesterday, to celebrate St. Davids Day at the weekend – daffodils and a bright bilingual sign proudly declaring: “𝑪𝒓𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒐 𝒊 𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒉 – 𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒉.”
In our learning and leadership development, we often talk about strategy, capability and performance.
But climate is shaped in moments like these – small, intentional acts that say: “You matter. We’re glad you’re here.”
The lesson for me?
Excellence isn’t only found in big presentations or bold strategy statements.
It lives in preparation.
In thoughtfulness.
In going the extra mile when no one asked you to.
The Events Team reminds me that leadership climate begins long before the first slide appears on any screen, rather it begins at the welcome desk and even long before.
Who knows what theme they’ll surprise us with next – but I do know this: When people feel welcomed, they learn better.
I often get to stand at the front of the room with a co-facilitator.
But long before that, Charley, Hannah, Holly and Taylor have already shaped the day.
Who in your world is shaping the experience before you ever step into it?

Shoes That Don’t Fit

This week, during a leadership session, I decided to make things a little more practical.
I invited one of the participants to quite literally stand in my shoes.
She slipped her feet into my size 9.5 leather shoes with plenty of room to spare, and I tried stepping into her size 5 trainers.
I couldn’t even get my heels inside them!
There I was, perched awkwardly on the balls of my feet, heels hanging over the back, trying to stay upright.
It was quite funny and slightly ridiculous!
“Your shoes are very warm.” she said.
We were exploring empathy and the phrase “standing in another person’s shoes.”
Empathy is feeling 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 someone, whilst sympathy is feeling 𝒇𝒐𝒓 someone.
I know that empathy begins by showing a little more kindness.
It is our ability to understand another person’s feelings, thoughts, and condition from their perspective rather than our own.
Standing in those trainers, I felt a little unsteady, constrained, definitely off balance and it changed how I felt.
In my experience, empathy is about being present in a conversation, listening attentively, being open-minded without judgement and giving them your undivided attention.
I know too, that sometimes, in those moments, something beautiful happens with a human connection, or a small glimpse into how they are feeling.

Another perspective

Our Saviour Jesus Christ is the perfect example of this. He does not merely observe our struggles. He understands them.
“He will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people…” (Alma 7:11–12)
He didn’t stand at a distance offering sympathy, rather He descended below all things and knew what it felt like to be weary, misunderstood, alone and off balance.
Because He walked our mortal path, He can now walk beside us perfectly.
I believe that empathy is something that can be learned, it simply begins with curiosity.
Empathy isn’t only about words, it’s also about noticing the tone of voice, facial expressions and what’s not being said.
This week, I stood awkwardly in someone else’s shoes and nearly toppled over.
Try walking in another’s shoes today. Go on, give it a go.
I hope we can walk as He walked, with compassion in our hearts and steadiness in our step.
Whose shoes have you never really tried to understand?

Clicker in Hand

This week I had the pleasure of co-facilitating a Lead the Way – leadership session with my colleague Nikki Bartlett of Korn Ferry at Aviva in Perth.
We’ve worked together often enough now to know each other’s rhythm and facilitation style. One of us steps forward, the other steps back. We build on each other’s ideas. We throw in the occasional spontaneous activity. We tease each other, laugh together, and all the while participants join in.
There was one constant from Monday to Wednesday.
The wireless presentation clicker.

The Clicker

The clicker moved between us throughout the day. My turn. Your turn. Step forward. Step back.
And in many ways, so did the learning.
In our facilitation world, the clicker is more than a tool. It’s a signal. Whoever holds it is guiding that stretch of the learning. It might be 30 minutes, or even an hour or two.
However, there was just one small issue…
Each of us must have misplaced it at least ten times – old age I hear you say!
It vanished onto tables. Slipped behind laptops. Hid on chairs. At one point, I’m fairly sure it developed legs. By Tuesday afternoon, we were casually asking the room during every pause, “Has anyone seen the clicker?”
It became our unofficial catchphrase!
And yet, somewhere between losing it for the sixth time and the tenth, something struck me.
The clicker kept moving between us all week.
But the learning moved even more.
It moved from us to the participants.
From one table to another.
From a question in the room to a story at the back.
And often, right back to us again.
And the funny thing is, every time the clicker disappeared, the learning didn’t stop.
The conversation carried on, the thinking deepened and the energy stayed in the room.
Which is a good reminder for those of us who work in learning and development.
Slides, models or tools don’t create learning and the clicker definitely doesn’t.
It is curiosity, dialogue and shared ownership that does.
The clicker changed hands all week.
But the real learning in the room wasn’t driven by a button, it was driven by each participant.
So, what moves learning for you?

The Missing Piece

Arriving at Kyle and Emily’s on Saturday evening, we found them busy with a jigsaw puzzle they’d been slowly working through for weeks. It wasn’t just any puzzle. It was a brilliant photo of Emily’s dad, Steve, leaning into a corner on his motorbike. A great Christmas gift and clearly a labour of love.

Early Sunday morning, I had a little time on my hands, so I sat down and decided I’d tried to fill in a few of the missing pieces.

My strategy was simple. Focus on one gap and find that piece first, patiently sifting through every spare piece on the table.

One by one. Carefully. Methodically. Thoroughly.

Sadly – none of them fitted.

After a half hour of effort, I reached a logical conclusion… “There must be a piece missing.”

Shortly afterwards, I announced over breakfast that the puzzle was clearly incomplete.

Emily calmly replied, “Did you look under the table?

I had not… Under the table was… a whole box of additional pieces.

Starting Over…

Another 15 minutes of careful searching. Still nothing. At this point I’d handled what felt like hundreds of pieces and was fairly certain the universe was against me.

Emily wandered over, glanced in the box, paused for a second, picked up a single piece and slotted it straight in.

Perfect fit…

I’d invested close to an hour.

She invested about ten seconds…. Grrr.

It struck me that this wasn’t really about jigsaws at all, rather it was a reminder about perspective.

I was focused on effort. If I just worked harder and examined every option, I’d eventually get there. Emily approached it differently. She looked at the bigger picture. The colours. The shape of the gap. The context. She wasn’t just searching pieces. She was thinking about the whole image.

In leadership, we often default to our own viewpoint. We double down. We try harder. We stay at the table longer. But sometimes the answer isn’t about more effort. It’s about a different lens.

The piece isn’t missing. It’s just in a box we haven’t looked in yet.

And occasionally, the smartest move is inviting someone else to look at the puzzle with you.

Different hands. Different eyes. Different viewpoints.

Same picture.

Usually, a much faster solution.

Who could offer a fresh perspective on a challenge you’re facing?

Etrenal Connections

This week Monic and I had the opportunity to spend some time at the temple in Chorley.
We both love to go to the temple.
We know that temples are literally houses of the Lord.
It has been nearly 60 years since I went to the London temple in 1966 with my parents as a baby.
Although I have no recollection of that trip, I have been fortunate through my lifetime to create many joyful memories of visiting temples of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints throughout the world.
Over the years our family research and temple ordinances make it possible for us to be forever families.
This time, it was just special to serve in the temple for a few days together and it was such a joyful experience.
We know too, that no job in the temple is unimportant.
Serving there has always been such a valuable blessing in our lives.
This time, we reacquainted ourselves with many dear friends and made many new friends too.
One of the sweetest parts of our time there was, when I had the chance to serve some deaf members.
It was a lovely experience.
There was something very special about communicating and sharing understanding in the temple with them.
Even when words were few, the Spirit spoke clearly.
Their warmth and quiet faith touched me deeply.
The temple truly is a place of peace.
In a busy and often noisy world, it offers stillness and perspective.
We left feeling lighter, grateful, and reminded of what matters most.
President Russell M. Nelson has said “The temple is a place of peace and power, and spending time there will literally change a person’s life.”
We know that to be true.
Each time we return, we leave feeling lighter, grateful, and reminded of what matters most.
In a sense, each visit feels like coming home.
What small step could you take to return to the house of the Lord?

A Warm Response

Recently, we arrived at an Airbnb after a long day of driving.
It was early evening; we were tired and ready to settle in.
But when we opened the door to the apartment, we were met not with comfort… but with cold – it was chilly!
There was no heating on and worse, there was no obvious controls.
We messaged the owners and soon discovered they were away themselves, but did respond quickly.
They sent us details about how to access another apartment where we found the WiFi device that controlled the heating.
It took another hour or two, but eventually the warmth returned.
The next morning, without us asking, they apologised and there was also a pleasant surprise, as they refunded our first night.
And that’s when it struck me.
Leadership is often revealed when the room is cold.
Not when everything works perfectly, but when something has gone wrong.
In the response.
Taking ownership.
In the unprompted act to make it right.
They didn’t defend.
They didn’t deflect.
They simply took responsibility.
As leaders, we won’t always get it right first time.
But trust is built in the recovery.
Sometimes leadership is as simple as noticing the temperature – and turning the heating on.
When was the last time you made it right without being asked?

In the Room

There was an air of excitement and anticipation in the learning centre at Aviva in Perth last week.
The ExCo and CEO Amanda Blanc were in town, for their second module of Lead the Way, a new flagship leadership programme.
Over lunch, everyone had the opportunity to munch n mingle together.
Jaycee, one of our cohort participants approached me, and asked if Amanda would join our group for a little while for a chat and a photo opportunity too.
So, off I went to ask the question to her business manager and secretary.
Sure enough, a little after lunch, Amanda joined us for a photo and mixed with our cohort delegates.
As a key strategic priority, it was clear that she has a strong vested interest in the programme, participants and outcomes.
What stood out even more was how she showed that interest.
She didn’t just step in for a quick photo and move on. Taking time to engage with members of the cohort, she looked around the room, asked questions about the flipcharts we’d created and posted on the windows.
Then she listened.
The kind of listening where you can see someone thinking about what you’ve said, not waiting for their turn to speak.
There was warmth in it.
A genuine curiosity about people’s experience of the programme and what it meant for them.
It was a quiet but powerful signal.
There’s a paradox in leadership that’s easy to talk about and harder to live: personal humility alongside professional will. High standards and clear ambition, paired with the willingness to stand in a busy room over lunch and simply be present. To ask, to hear and to learn.
Of course, we did get the photo.
It was a slightly jostled, everyone-squeeze-in moment that took a little longer than expected. But what people will remember isn’t the picture. It’s the few minutes of real connection.
A small act, perhaps. But sometimes leadership is exactly that.
Where might a few minutes of genuine attention make a difference for you?

Two Doors, One Important Lesson

Yesterday I popped into Marks and Spencer for a few bits n pieces and came out feeling a little weighed down.
I had a bag in each hand and no spare fingers to speak of.
When I reached the exit, I leaned into the door with my shoulder and shuffled my way outside.
Success…or so I thought.
As the door swung shut behind me, I glanced back and locked eyes on another shopper who was right behind me.
Because of my shoulder charge, the door had closed much faster than expected.
I quickly apologised for not noticing them sooner.
They were gracious about it, but I walked away thinking, I could have done better there.
I suppose as we grow older, we’re meant to grow gentler too.
Yesterday reminded me I’m still learning that.
A few minutes later, on my way home, I passed the local baker’s shop.
A man had just come out, arms full of bread and boxes, looking at his van door the way I had looked at that shop door.  His hands were completely full. This time I didn’t hesitate.  I put my own bags down and asked, “Can I help?”  He smiled and said, “Yes please.” And I opened the van door for him.  He thanked me warmly, and I carried on home feeling lighter than when I’d left Marks and Spencer, even though my shopping hadn’t changed at all.
It struck me how quickly we’re given another chance.
One moment we miss an opportunity to notice someone.
The next moment, we’re given one.
There’s a simple scripture that says it best: “Be ye kind one to another.” – Ephesians 4:32
And remember this little song?…
“I want to be kind to ev’ryone,
For that is right, you see.
So I say to myself, “Remember this:
Kindness begins with me.” – Children’s Songbook 145
Decency, courtesy and kindness don’t require grand gestures.
Sometimes it’s just holding a door or perhaps noticing when someone can’t.
“Ask yourself: Have you been kind today? Make kindness your daily modus operandi and change your world.” – Annie Lennox
If you miss an opportunity for kindness today, are you ready for the next one?

The Quiet Signals We Send

I was reminded of an old, but meaningful story yesterday, while facilitating a leadership session at Aviva in Perth.
As my co-facilitator George set up a buddy coaching activity, he mentioned the importance of eye contact.
He simply said that whoever you made eye contact with on the count of 3, would be your buddy for the next activity.
It was a simple passing comment, but it really landed.
In that moment it took me back to an experience from a few years ago.
I was in Brussels, Belgium to address a large conference.
A few minutes before I was to share my remarks, I noticed a little boy, around 6 years old, looking directly at me.
In that split second, I made eye contact with him, tilted my head slightly to one side, smiled, and gave him a friendly little wink.
He smiled back and tried a little wink too.
For a brief moment in time – we enjoyed our little connection and smiled together.
It was an innocent thing.
It was just a quiet, human signal that said, 𝑰 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖.
In that instant, connection happened, without any words, or any effort.
Watching participants pair up yesterday, I noticed the same thing happen.
It is particularly important in building rapport and establishing a connection.
When eye contact was present, people slowed down.
Listening deepened and somehow the room softened.
And that’s the thing, we didn’t create connection by doing more.
We simply created it by noticing more.
These moments are easy to miss and easy to rush past.
But they’re often where the real work happens.
In leadership, coaching, and facilitation, we often focus on what we say.
But connection is just as often created in the quiet moments…through presence, attention, and the signals we send without speaking.
Sometimes, all it takes is a little wink to remind someone they matter.
Who in your world might simply need to feel seen?

Facilitating Learning

Last week, while facilitating a leadership development session with my colleague Jennifer at Aviva in Perth, I was reminded of something simple, yet important.
What we do as facilitators is often described as training, but that word doesn’t quite tell the whole story.
Training suggests content delivered and instructions followed, often focused on specific tasks or skills.
But learning is different.
Learning happens when people pause, think for themselves, reflect on their own experience, and decide what they might do differently, if anything at all. It’s less about short-term competence and more about long-term growth.
I was also reminded as facilitators, we wear many hats. We’re guides, listeners, designers, timekeepers, sense-makers and occasionally quiet instigators of good discomfort.
Our role isn’t to provide all the answers, but rather to create the conditions where learning can take place.
– The 𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐬 we share matter – by giving people language for things they already feel but haven’t yet named.
– The 𝐓𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐬 matter because they slow thinking down and help turn insight into action.
– The 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 matter most, because learning sticks when people talk, test, practice, and make ideas their own.
Working alongside Jennifer was a reminder of something else too.
We weren’t trying to be the same. Our styles, pace, and energy were different.
Yet there was a shared awareness that the learning improved when we listened closely to one another, adjusted in the moment, and allowed space for rhythm rather than control. Not sameness, but harmony.
Unity ≠ Sameness, Unity = Harmony
Harmony in our facilitation showed up through timing, restraint, and responsiveness… sensing when to step forward, when to step back, when to speak, and when to let silence do the heavier lifting.
That isn’t training. It’s learning in motion.
And sometimes, it’s helped along by a very large Sharpie… making thinking visible, a little messier, and far more fun for everyone in the room.
What helps learning come alive for you?