Author: smgaillard

Leadership Echoes: Small Moments, Big Legacy

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A Lesson from Administrator School

During my days in “administrator school,” I was fortunate to have our superintendent, where I was employed as a teacher, instruct one of our courses. The course was Strategic Planning, and I gained much wisdom from his years as a seasoned district leader. The class happened to land on the final day of the semester for our cohort. Looking back, it was a meaningful milestone as it marked the last class on the last day of my entire Master’s in School Administration program.

A moment from that day has stayed with me throughout my career. At the time, I did not realize how deeply it would echo through my leadership journey.

A Moment That Still Resonates

We were wrapping up the final review before exams when our superintendent began to share parting wisdom. I do not know what moved him to do so, but his reflections were powerful. He began to riff on lessons from his own career, weaving together aphorisms, stories, and insights.

Then came the moment I will never forget. He said, “Remember those conversations you had about your principal or even about me after a faculty meeting? Remember those meetings after the meetings where you shared your thoughts about leadership decisions? Maybe you complained and maybe you didn’t. Well, someday soon, you will be the topic of those conversations in the parking lot. How will you respond to that?”

He paused and looked at each of us. The room fell silent. We all sat in the weight of his words.

At the time, those words felt heavy and unsettling. Over the years, I have come to understand their profound truth about leadership and influence.

The Power of the Leadership Echo

All leaders have what I call a leadership echo. This is the way our tone, actions, empathy, and integrity ripple beyond our presence. It is the resonance of the legacy we create for others. Each of us has a leadership echo, and we are the composers of the melody it leaves behind.

Music and the Subtle Notes That Stay

As a lifelong music fan, I am always drawn to the small details in a song that stay with you. One of my favorite moments in music is the bridge of “Here Comes the Sun” by The Beatles. The sequence of handclaps adds a percussive joy that lingers long after the song ends.

Leadership works the same way. The small, intentional acts: kind word, a listening ear, a thoughtful pause before reacting—create lasting harmony. They resonate across classrooms and communities.

I still remember the high five I received from my principal after he observed my American Literature class. I was teaching “Richard Cory” and playing Simon and Garfunkel’s musical version. That simple gesture not only encouraged me, but I could see my students respond to it, too. It was a cool moment, one that continues to echo for me.

Echoes in Action

Leadership echoes take many forms. A leader checking in on a struggling teacher. A principal celebrating small wins during a tough week. A colleague modeling grace under pressure. A teacher calling home to share a moment of student success.

These gestures may seem small, but they often become the stories others tell later. When we amplify these positive echoes, they build the shared culture that defines our schools.

Hearing the Unflattering Echo

Sometimes, the echoes we hear are not flattering. Thinking back to what my superintendent said that day, leaders will always be the subject of conversation. Those conversations are sometimes positive and sometimes not.

As leaders, we must approach those moments with reflection, not fear. Even when the echo is critical, it can still reveal purpose and integrity. I recently reviewed survey data about my leadership. Some of it stung, but I chose to use it as a mirror for growth rather than a judgment.

Listening to your leadership echo takes humility and curiosity. It is an opportunity to grow, not to defend.

Three Ways to Strengthen Your Leadership Echo

Here are three reflective strategies for tuning your leadership echo into a source of growth and impact:

  1. Tune Your Tone:
    Pause before responding. Speak as if your words might echo in someone’s memory tomorrow.
  2. Play Small Notes Loud:
    Celebrate micro moments with either a handwritten note, a hallway check-in, or a quick “thank you.” Small gestures can carry great resonance.
  3. Listen for Resonance:
    Ask for feedback, reflect often, and be open to what comes back, even when it is uncomfortable.

The Last Chord

Just like the handclaps in “Here Comes the Sun,” your leadership will ring on long after you have turned the page to a new chapter. Think of the final chord in “A Day in the Life” by The Beatles. It sustains, fades, and lingers with an unforgettable sound that carries on long after the needle travels off the record.

Leadership is the same way. The decisions we make, the tone we set, and the kindness we extend all continue to reverberate through others long after we leave the room. Every word, action, and choice becomes part of our echo.

Each of us has the power to shape what that echo sounds like. We can choose to create an echo that uplifts, inspires, and builds others. The more we lead with intention, empathy, and grace, the more beautiful that resonance becomes.

My father often reminded me to lead with humility and to hold my head high. His words, much like that chord in “A Day in the Life,” continue to echo in my life and in my leadership.

May your echo be one of kindness, courage, and grace. May it be the kind that reminds others of the good they carry within. And may it continue to resonate long after the music fades.

One More Thing

This reflection is part of my ongoing Leadership Liner Notes blog, where I explore the harmony between music and leadership. The idea of the leadership echo reminds me that every interaction carries a note of influence, just like every chord in a great song contributes to the melody.

As I continue to write and learn, I’m inspired by the small moments that form the soundtrack of leadership. Every conversation, every decision, and every high five in the hallway becomes part of the echo we leave behind.

If this reflection resonates with you, share your own leadership echo story on social media using #LeadershipRiffs and #LeadershipLinerNotes, and tag me in your post. Let’s keep the conversation. and the echoes going.

Be a Member of the Band: How Great Leaders Create Space for Others to Shine

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The other day I was listening to The Beatles Channel on Sirius XM. I know that sounds like a casual moment, but truth be told, I spend plenty of time tuned into that station. As a lifelong Beatles fan, I’m fully immersed in their world of melodies, harmonies, and timeless lessons.

In between the songs and interviews, the channel often airs short reflections from musicians and fans. One that recently stood out to me came from John Oates, half of the legendary duo Hall & Oates. He shared a story about his friendship with George Harrison that has been playing in my mind ever since.

Oates talked about how he and George connected over a shared love of Formula One racing. That connection eventually led to visits at George’s home, Friar Park. During one visit, Oates mustered the courage to ask if George would play guitar on the Hall & Oates album Along the Red Ledge. George agreed, but he had one request: he only wanted to be a member of the band.

He didn’t want to take the lead. He didn’t want to be “George Harrison of The Beatles.” He just wanted to play alongside everyone else and contribute to the groove. His guitar work shines on the track “The Last Time,” yet what makes this story powerful is George’s humility. Here was someone who had stood on the world’s biggest stages, yet he found meaning in simply being part of the band.

That lesson resonates deeply with me. I’ve played in a few bands myself. I’m not a virtuoso guitarist, but I’m a solid rhythm player. I love creating that foundation that lets others soar. There’s something special about hearing another musician shine because you’re holding down the rhythm behind them. That’s leadership in action.

David Bowie did a similar move when formed the band, Tin Machine. Here was one of the most iconic solo acts in music simply wanting to be a part of a band. Bowie was known for making all kinds of unexpected turns and pivots in his career. Here, he took an eclectic turn and went back to the basics of being in a band. The band wasn’t called “David Bowie and Tin Machine.” It was simply Tin Machine.

Leadership is often seen as standing front and center, but the best leaders know when to step back. Sometimes the greatest impact we can have is to lay down a steady rhythm that allows others to take flight. Being a leader means being a collaborator, a listener, a supporter. It’s about tuning into the strengths of others and amplifying them for the good of the team.

George Harrison reminded us that leadership isn’t about spotlight moments or social media metrics. It’s about humility, collaboration, and humanity. It’s about seeing the gifts in others and creating the space for those gifts to be heard.

So, wherever you lead, whether it’s a classroom, a meeting, or a community, remember this simple truth: the best leaders know how to be a member of the band. Tune into the gifts of others. Uplift their strengths. Create harmony together. That’s how the best songs and the best teams are made.

Pivoting Toward Presence: A Reflection on Love, Leadership, and Lennon

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Today marks what would have been John Lennon’s 85th birthday. Had he not been so cruelly taken from the world, I imagine him surrounded by love, his wife, his sons, and perhaps a few close friends gathered around a cake. I can almost see John smiling, glasses glinting in the candlelight, grateful for another revolution around the sun. Grateful simply to be a husband and father.

Of course, this is a dream, a what if forever suspended in time. John Lennon is not with us. Yet every time we hear Imagine, or spin a Beatles record that once lifted the world, his spirit continues to sing. His ideas, his courage, and his music are eternal.

As I think about John’s life today, I am reminded of the profound pivot he made in his final years, a pivot that leaders, including myself, can learn from. After a painful separation from Yoko Ono, John chose to retreat from the spotlight. He became a stay at home father. He walked away from fame, record contracts, and the demands of celebrity life to raise his young son, Sean. He called this period his “househusband years.” Five years of seclusion. Five years of being present.

In that quiet season, John found peace. He cooked, baked bread, and rediscovered the small joys of daily life. He walked through Central Park and strolled with Yoko and Sean, savoring the moments that so many of us rush past. He wrote songs again, not for charts or critics, but from the heart. When he finally returned to the studio in 1980, he released Double Fantasy, a musical conversation between himself and Yoko celebrating love, family, and renewal. The album earned a Grammy for Album of the Year, a posthumous echo of his artistry at its most honest.

One song from that record, Beautiful Boy, contains a line that has haunted and guided me for years:
“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”

That lyric hits harder as I get older. I have lived its truth. As a husband, father, and leader, I have had moments when my presence was only partial, physically there but mentally buried in a phone, a to do list, or the next big initiative. When I faced my first serious health setback a year and a half ago, lying in a hospital room with machines beeping around me, I thought of all the moments I had missed. I remember wondering: Would I get to tell my children I loved them again? Would I see my wife’s beautiful smile? Would I have another chance to simply be, not as a principal, not as a leader, but as a husband, father, son, brother, and friend?

Thankfully, I was granted another chance. I am still learning and growing even as those health setbacks keep coming. That experience in the hospital room changed me. It reminded me that leadership is not just about impact, innovation, or outcomes. It is about love. It is about being present for the people who give your life meaning.

As leaders, we can lose ourselves in the rhythm of meetings, emails, and deadlines. The work matters, but so do the quiet moments that recharge our hearts. The people who know us beyond our title need us, not the version that is always on, but the one that listens, laughs, and lingers a little longer at the dinner table.

John Lennon’s decision to step away from the noise and focus on family was not an escape. It was an act of courage. It was his pivot into something beautiful.

So, what does that mean for us?

Leadership Action Steps: Simple Pivots into Something Beautiful

  1. Write for five minutes.
    End your day with a brief journal reflection, one sentence of gratitude or one small victory that made you smile.
  2. Call someone who matters.
    Reach out to a friend or loved one, not with an agenda, but simply to say, I’m thinking of you.
  3. Schedule sacred time.
    Block out 30 minutes this week for uninterrupted family time, a walk, or a shared meal. Treat it like your most important meeting and protect it.
  4. Be fully present.
    Put the phone away. Turn off notifications. Look into the eyes of the people you love and listen with your whole self.
  5. Revisit Your Pivot Song.
    Choose a song that helps you pause and reconnect with what truly matters. For me, it is Beautiful Boy by John Lennon, a reminder that love, presence, and purpose are the greatest compositions of all. John wrote that song for his youngest son and it serves as reminder that I must always pivot into fatherhood and being there for my three daughters.

John Lennon did not know that his five year retreat would be the last chapter of his life. Yet in those years, he created the most meaningful work of all: love, presence, and peace. His story challenges us to do the same. To pause. To connect. To pivot into something beautiful before life happens while we are busy making other plans.

A Lesson from My Dad

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Lately, if you have been following this blog, you might have noticed a thread weaving through my recent reflections, one centered on gratitude for those I love. A recent health setback prompted me to take a deeper inventory of what and who I am thankful for. That process led me home, in every sense of the word, back to my family, and especially to my father.

For leaders, it is essential to pause intentionally and take time for gratitude. That practice has been reinforced by my good friend, Lainie Rowell, author of Evolving with Gratitude. Her work reminds us that gratitude is not just an emotion but an action, one that ignites connection, strengthens relationships, and transforms the atmosphere of our lives. I was honored to contribute to her book and to witness how gratitude can change the temperature of a soul. It is the grounding rhythm beneath every meaningful leadership melody.

So today, I want to express my gratitude for my father, the best man I know, by sharing a few lessons he has taught me, lessons that have carried me through every stage of my life.

My father has been my teacher, mentor, protector, and moral compass. Through his words and example, he has taught me everything from the musical brilliance of Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On to the importance of a firm handshake and the art of being a gentleman. But the greatest lesson of all has been the power of unconditional love, a lesson deeply rooted in our shared faith.

For years, my father made countless sacrifices for our family. He did it with humility and grace, never once complaining, even in the face of racism or rejection. He stood firm in his devout faith and values, leading not with loud proclamations but with quiet strength. His faith-filled example spoke louder than any sermon ever could. Dad is also on call to say a prayer for you if you need it.

There is one phrase my father has said to me for as long as I can remember:
“Dare to be great.”

He said it to all four of his children. It was never about achievement or applause. It was about integrity, purpose, and belief in our God-given potential. Dad saw greatness in us long before we saw it in ourselves. It is his way to motivate and inspire. Most importantly, it is his way to show that he believes in you but that we also have to believe in ourselves.

I will never forget a small but powerful moment years ago. I had been invited to a local event where I introduced a special screening of Yellow Submarine. As the author of The Pepper Effect, I was thrilled to share my Beatles expertise before and after the film, but when the time came, only a few people showed up. My amazing wife, who has endured my lifelong fascination with The Beatles, was there by my side. And so was my father. He is not a Beatles fan, and that movie was probably far from his cup of tea, but he was there smiling, proud, and present. That is who he is. Showing up has always been my father’s love language.

My father is also the best leadership coach I know. His wisdom is wrapped in empathy and anchored in common sense. When I have faced discouragement, he has always been my one of my first calls. I remember one conversation in particular when I was sinking into self-doubt and negativity. Dad listened quietly, then in his calm and steady voice said,
“Hold your head high, son, like I taught you.”

Those words cut through everything. In an instant, the weight lifted. That is what Dad does. He restores balance, brings perspective, and reminds me of who I am. His optimism is not naïve. It is rooted in faith, experience, and courage.

There have been countless moments like that, moments where my father’s love, patience, and wisdom have guided me back to center. I am beyond blessed to be his son. I am grateful that my three daughters have grown up knowing him as “Papa,” the same man who has modeled grace, humility, and strength for generations.

The world is better, safer, and brighter because of my dad. His life is a testament to faith, love, and quiet greatness.

Dad has taught me to be a better husband, father, and teammate.

And as I reflect on all that he has taught me, I know that I still have much more to learn from him. I will never tire of those lessons.

His lessons continue to guide me, and his love will forever be the compass that leads my way.

Thank you, Dad.

What’s Right: A Pivot Into Bright Stops

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A Guest Blog Post for Dave Burgess Consulting, Inc!

Recently, I had the honor of writing a guest post for my publisher, Dave Burgess Consulting, Inc.! Their support goes back to the very beginning, when the team believed in an idea I had for a book. That idea became The Pepper Effect—my mash-up love letter to The Beatles and education. I’ll always be grateful for their belief in this project.

This new guest post grew out of some reflections I’ve been having on The Pepper Effect. It was a refreshing chance to wander down a meaningful rabbit hole as I continue work on my next book, Leadership Riffs, also with Dave Burgess Consulting.

You can read the post here: What’s Right: A Pivot Into Bright Spots. I’d love to hear your thoughts! Leave a comment, share it, or tag me on your favorite social media platform so we can keep the conversation going.

A huge thank-you to Dave Burgess and Tara Martin of #dbcincbooks for their belief, encouragement, and ongoing support!

Why The World Is Brighter Because of My Daughters

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This past week marked National Daughters Day. It is a day when parents everywhere pause to celebrate their daughters in big and small ways with pictures, posts, and memories shared. Because of some recent health setbacks, I did not post anything on that day. What I was able to do was send my three daughters a quick text letting them know that I love them. Still, I could not let the moment pass without honoring them in a way that feels most authentic to me. Writing about them is the best way I know how.

When I wrote my book, The Pepper Effect, I described it as a mash up love letter to The Beatles and to education. John, Paul, George, and Ringo will always hold a special place in my heart, but the book itself is dedicated to my real Fab Four, which is Deb and our daughters Maddie, Emily, and Rachel. Being with them is better than any Beatles reunion as I have often said.

Just last week, we celebrated my mother’s 80th birthday, and all three of our daughters came home to be with her. To have us all gathered around the table was a gift I will never forget. They are older now, living on their own, pursuing advanced degrees, and shaping their lives with purpose. As Deb and I sat at dinner, I found myself quietly watching them laugh and talk together. I did not want to interrupt the moment. I just wanted to sit in the presence of their joy. In that silence, I felt immense pride. I am grateful beyond measure for the miracles God entrusted to us in being their parents.

Their presence is electric, life giving, and affirming. In those quiet moments, I whispered a prayer of thanks for the privilege of being their dad.

Our house is quieter now. I miss the days of Beatles Rock Band tournaments, playing Pretty Pretty Princess, and endless games fueled by imagination. I miss sitting on the sidelines of soccer games and applauding at dance recitals. I miss those treasured moments of reading aloud together at night. Every time Deb and I get to be with them now, it feels like a blessing we hold onto tightly. I know the world needs their gifts, their voices, and their leadership. I know that I have to let them go as they walk into adulthood. Even as they share their light with others, I will always carry infinite love for them, with special space in my heart reserved for each one of them.

All three of my daughters have faced challenges that could have broken others. They have pushed through setbacks and disappointments with remarkable strength. They have endured misogyny and overcome it. They have experienced racism and ignorance, yet continue to stand tall as beautifully biracial women who embody resilience.

The greatest title I will ever hold is Dad. It is the most important name I have ever been called. Each of my daughters has shaped my heart and soul in ways words cannot fully capture. As I write this, tears are filling my eyes. I cry for how fast time has moved since they were born. I cry for the gratitude I have for the beautiful moments we have had together. I cry tears of pride and joy for the young women they are becoming. My tears are unapologetic as my infinite love is for my three beautiful daughters.

The world is a brighter, kinder, and better place because of Maddie, Emily, and Rachel. I love you all eternally. Proud Dad always.

For My Mom at 80: Infinite Gratitude for a Lifetime of Love and Faith

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This past week, my mother turned 80 years old. I cannot begin to measure the blessing that she is in my life. Every good thing I have is connected to her love, her sacrifices, and her unwavering devotion to our family. My mom has never sought the spotlight. She is a quiet, humble hero who has spent her life giving, nurturing, and guiding with grace.

When I was a little boy and refused to nap, my mom didn’t get frustrated. Instead, she created something special. She would read to me from Golden Books, Hardy Boys, and countless other stories. Those afternoons are stitched into my heart. My love of reading, my love of stories, and my passion for learning began with her voice.

I remember riding in our family station wagon during our years in Carson, California, with the AM radio as our constant companion. One day, Harry Nilsson’s “Coconut” came on. I laughed and proclaimed that the doctor’s cure was making him sick. My mom just smiled, a smile that told me she was delighted by my joy and imagination.

I remember the fall day she surprised me after kindergarten at Annalee Avenue School. We walked home together, crunching leaves on the sidewalk, each step a simple but unforgettable gift.

When nightmares came, she found a way to comfort me by putting on a Mister Rogers record at bedtime so his voice could soothe me to sleep.

We laughed together through episodes of “WKRP in Cincinnati,” “I Love Lucy,” and The Bob Newhart Show.” I remember her joy when she welcomed my wife into our family. I remember the look of bliss on her face as she held each of my daughters when they were newborns, her eyes shining with love for them before they even knew the world.

Mom makes the best macaroni and cheese on earth. There is no contest. She also gave me one of the greatest gifts of all: music. From Dave Brubeck and Mose Allison to Bobby Darin and Sergio Mendes, she opened my ears to beauty. As a kid, I used to resist her favorites: Barry Manilow, The Bee Gees, The Carpenters, Roberta Flack. Now, I embrace those artists, because when I hear their songs, I hear my mom.

More than anything, my mom gave us faith. She taught me the power of prayer, the strength of humility, and the courage to keep going. Even now, we share our prayer of thanks for each other that dates back to my childhood:

“Thank God for Sean.”

“Thank God for my Mom.”

There are so many things my mother has given me. There are so many that they are infinite and lasting. My gratitude for her is infinite and lasting, too.

My mother is a gift from God. Her kindness, love, and devotion have shaped not just my life, but the lives of everyone she touches from my father to my siblings. The world is better because she is here.

Happy 80th Birthday, Mom. I love you more than words can say. And as the years keep turning, like the grooves on a treasured record, may her song of love play on forever.

You Are Never Alone: A Note on Mental Health & Well-Being

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Let’s cut to the chase.

I go regularly to a therapist.

I live with panic, anxiety, and depression.

I take medication for that, as well as for high blood pressure. I lean on prayer for guidance, strength, and courage. Music, exercise, and writing serve as my entry points for continued healing.

This is a reality that I face and accept. I am okay. I am a proud father, a grateful husband, and a human being doing his best each day.

We have to normalize the conversation around mental health. It is not a stigma, and it should not be a secret.

Years ago, I listened to an interview where Dwayne Johnson openly shared his battle with depression. Bruce Springsteen, in his memoir Born to Run, wrote candidly about his own struggles. Both sought professional help. Both broke through the stereotype of invulnerability. And when I heard their stories, something deep within me stirred. It was a reminder that I was not alone.

It takes courage to be that open. Johnson and Springsteen are seen as strong, larger than life figures. Leaders, creators, and entertainers who have given millions joy. And yet, they are human. Their willingness to be vulnerable gave me the courage to carry my own weight and step forward in hope.

I want to be clear. I am not an expert on mental health. I can only share the truth I know and the experiences I have lived. What I do know is what it feels like to be alone in the struggle, to wonder if anyone else understands, and to silently hope for connection. I write this with my arm extended, reaching toward you, to say that you do not have to endure this alone.

The myth of leadership tells us to wear capes, to never stumble, to prove our strength through invulnerability. Social media only amplifies this illusion. But the truth is simpler and more profound. We are human. And being human means there are seasons when the darkness feels too heavy to carry on our own.

Viktor Frankl once wrote, “When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.” That quote has carried me in the hardest moments. It reminds me that even in the weight of depression, there is always a small step forward, always a chance to choose connection, always a chance to choose hope.

Depression is real. But so is support. So is the slow, steady step toward light when we reach out, seek help, and allow others to walk beside us.

This summer, on a turbulent flight, I sat next to a man in the grip of a panic attack. I recognized the signs instantly because I have been there. I leaned in and gently reminded him of strategies I knew he likely carried with him. He looked at me in surprise and whispered, “You know about the strategies, too?” I nodded. “Yes. You are going to be okay.” In that moment, both of us were reminded of a powerful truth. We are not alone when we reach out.

I am learning peace. I still face setbacks, but I continue to carry forward with my faith, the love of my wife and our daughters, the guidance of my therapist, and the support of my family along with a few trusted friends who check in on me. Each moment, however small, is a victory. Each step into the light is a lesson in resilience. And each time I share my story, I am reminded that others are waiting for the validation that they, too, are not alone.

Maya Angelou said it beautifully: “We may encounter many defeats but we must not be defeated.” Her words remind me that setbacks are part of the journey, but they do not define us. They are reminders to rise, to endure, to keep moving toward the light.

So, if you are silently struggling, know this: I see you. You are loved. You are valued. You belong.

As my father taught me to hold my head high, you are encouraged to do the same. If you do not feel compelled, then you are welcome to lean on me and we can walk forward together.

As I write, Beethoven’s 7th Symphony plays in the background. He composed it even as he faced the devastating reality of losing his hearing. He leaned into his craft and created something timeless. That reminder gives me courage: even in the face of struggle, we can pivot into something beautiful.

Let us do that together. Let us lean on one another. Let us check in with each other. Let us create, compose, and carry forward.

You are never alone.

Pivot Into Something Beautiful

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This morning, while working on my next book Leadership Riffs, I let Keith Jarrett’s The Köln Concert play in the background. I have written about this album before, but something unexpected happened when I decided to drop the needle on the vinyl instead of streaming.

The turntable, set incorrectly at 45 rpm instead of 33⅓, landed me in the middle of Part I around the 20:06 mark. What I heard stopped me cold.

After minutes of Jarrett leaning into discord and dissonance, suddenly there was light. Luminous chords, flowing lines, and then his voice crying out in release. It was as if he had reached a destination he had been searching for all along. The sound was not just music. It was hope.

That serendipitous moment struck my soul. It became an epiphany, a reminder that even in chaos and constraint we can pivot into something beautiful. It was the salve I needed after a recent health scare and series of setbacks.

The Story Behind the Concert

On January 24, 1975, Keith Jarrett nearly did not play that night in Köln.

The wrong piano had been delivered, a rehearsal instrument with thin upper registers, clunky pedals, and a weak bass. Jarrett was exhausted, suffering from back pain and lack of sleep. He wanted to cancel. Only the persuasion of a 17 year-old promoter, Vera Brandes, brought him onto the stage.

What emerged was a 66 minute improvisation that has since become the best selling solo piano album in history. By leaning into the piano’s limitations, using the middle register, repeating rolling ostinatos, and drawing beauty out of imperfection, Jarrett transformed adversity into transcendence.

That is the essence of leadership, too.

Leadership Lessons from 20:06

That breathtaking passage embodies resolution after chaos. It is not effortless sweetness. It is earned beauty, a pivot through difficulty into light.

Leadership asks the same of us.

  • Resilience under Constraints
    Jarrett could have walked away. Instead, he transformed weakness into strength. Leaders are often asked to do the same, to make music with the instrument we are given even when it is not the one we wanted.
  • Breakthrough After Discord
    Just as Jarrett’s improvisation cycles through tension before reaching radiance, we lead through doubt, criticism, and setbacks. Persistence turns noise into resonance.
  • Authenticity and Presence
    His whoops and grunts are raw and unfiltered. They testify to the power of being fully present. Leadership demands that same authenticity, showing up as our full selves even when it is messy.
  • Hope as Resolution
    At 20:06 the sound is not just technical brilliance, it is hope. And hope matters. Hope is the ignition for inspiring action. It may not be the entire strategy, but it sparks the courage to act.

Pivoting Forward

As leaders we face naysayers, doubters, and moments of discord. We face seasons where the piano is broken and the odds are stacked. But like Jarrett, we can pivot into something beautiful.

That pivot might look like a coaching conversation with a teacher after a walkthrough that helps shift practice and confidence. It might be listening deeply to a student who is carrying the weight of grief and helping them take a small next step. It might be celebrating the quiet win of a class finally nailing a concept that once felt unreachable. It might even be choosing to recognize the dedication of a colleague who shows up each day despite personal struggles.

Just as Jarrett cried out in exhilaration when he reached that breakthrough, we, too, can carry communities forward by pivoting into light, naming the hope, and helping others step into it with us.

Because on the far side of difficulty there is beauty. And on the far side of discord there is hope.

That is what leaders do. We pivot into something beautiful.

Check out Part 1 of Keith Jarrett’s masterpiece below and go to the 20:06 mark or hear it from the beginning of the track.

When Support Becomes a Habit

smgaillard Leadership , , ,

There is a weight that many are carrying right now. Some of it is visible and most of it is hidden. Leadership at its core can be an isolating gig. Doubts, setbacks, alienation from our purpose all of these are real. They come uninvited and often linger longer than we want.

What I have been learning, sometimes the hard way, is that support cannot be an afterthought. It has to be a habit. It is not just the occasional check-in, but the daily rhythm of leaning in to each other. Asking the extra question. Offering the listening ear. Sending the text that says, I am here.

The truth is that many of us do not want to share what we are going through. We mask our struggles with busyness or a brave face. Beneath the surface, loneliness and doubt gnaw away. That is when support becomes essential. Not as a sign of weakness, but as an act of survival.

I hear my Dad’s voice reminding me to hold my head high. Those words echo differently for me now. Holding your head high does not mean carrying everything alone. It means having the courage to reach out, to accept the hand that is extended, and to remember that someone else’s strength can steady us until we find our own again.

Support is not only about being present. It is about showing visible belief. When The Beatles were at their most fractured during the “Let It Be” sessions, Billy Preston walked into the studio. His presence was not just about playing keys. It was about belief. His energy and positivity shifted the atmosphere. He reminded them of what they could be when they trusted each other. That kind of support does not hide in the background. It is felt, seen, and heard.

History gives us the same lesson. When Nelson Mandela emerged from 27 years in prison, he carried a vision of reconciliation that could have faltered under the weight of bitterness. He surrounded himself with those who not only supported him, but visibly believed in the possibility of a different South Africa. Their belief gave him courage to keep moving forward.

And in my own journey, after a recent health scare, I realized that what helped most was not just colleagues covering tasks. It was their visible belief in me. Their check-ins, their words, their encouragement. It was more than help. It was the steady reminder that I was not alone, that they believed in me enough to carry the load until I could stand tall again.

As leaders, as colleagues, as human beings, we have the power to give that kind of support. To make belief tangible. To remind others of their worth when they cannot see it themselves.

Support has to be a habit. A daily practice of visible belief. Because in the end that is how we move forward. That is how we remember we are not alone. And that is how we hold our heads high together.