Give Me a Purpose to Rest In
The below is the first in a series of essays I’ll be writing about values-based leadership. I aim to explore the complexities and nuances of leadership through a deeply personal lens. Drawing from my own experiences and struggles, I’ll explore the challenges of self-doubt, the pursuit of purpose, and the importance of staying true to one’s values even when the path is unclear. Readers can expect an honest, raw, and reflective journey that not only addresses the triumphs of leadership but also the often-overlooked internal battles that shape our character. This is more than just a leadership series — it’s a conversation about what it means to lead with authenticity and heart.
I have been a formal leader for thirty years of my life. I have been a musician for longer. I would argue that I’ve never really been good at either. But, others have told me different. Whether out of love or some sense of decency, my friends, family, and colleagues have — at some point — told me that I’m a good leader, a good musician, a good person.
But, I struggle with accepting any of it. I never know what to say when people compliment me. I never know how to take it. I want to believe that I’m all of it. But there’s this little voice inside me that tells me I’m not. He’s always there. Even as I write these words, I can hear him: who wants to hear this? Who wants to read anything you write? Who wants to hear anything you have to say Jason? Enough with the podcasts. You’re just hot air. Think about all those people that have never had anyone compliment them for anything. Who are you to take on this “burden”? It’s no burden. It’s trash. Like you.
In many ways, sitting here typing, I know he’s right. I know I’m not worthy of anything. I can feel it in my bones. The pressing negative.
Thankfully, most days I can tune him out. Most days I can make enough noise to drown out his voice. I can keep myself busy. I can get lost in meetings, or books, or whatever ephemera happens to be in front of me that day. On my best days, I can focus on helping someone else and not think about myself at all.
But, its all inconsistent. It’s all haphazard. And like all things that are ad-hoc and fleeting, cracks develop. Little hairline cracks that threaten to let the flood of doubt in. Tiny fractures that let that degrading voice through to tell me I’m not good enough, to tell me I’ll never be good enough.
Today, I quite accidentally stumbled upon a piece of music that left me dumbfounded in its intensity and deep connection to what I’m speaking about here. It is raw and uncomfortable and dark. It is also surprisingly hopeful.
All of us struggle with knowing we are good enough. Knowing we are successful (however we define that term). Knowing we are worthy of others. This song captures that sentiment in the most profound and significant way.
For a time in my life (when I was much younger), I was fortunate enough to teach undergraduates in International Relations. At the end of each semester, I took the last day of class to give them a lecture about hope. About success. About hard work. Before I began teaching, and well before I was ever “successful”, I — like everyone — experienced some consequential events in my life that were both of my own doing, but also forced upon me by events outside my control. In telling those stories to those students, I reminded myself of my own worth. It was cathartic for both them and me.
This song brought back all those feelings. All that rawness. And it is my reminder to myself to take my own words to heart. To trust myself even when some part of me tells me not to. It also highlights the mental health struggles that define us. I can’t describe in words how impactful Ren’s music is. I encourage you to listen to his entire catalog. It’s not always comfortable and can be exhausting. But it’s worth it.
So, where does this leave us? Well, like that last day in those courses I used to teach, I’m going to rekindle a series of lectures I used to give on values-based leadership. I may even record them and put them up on YouTube. But if I don’t, I’ll be writing them here.
If no one wants to hear them, that’s cool too.
I hope you want to hear them.
