george-harrison

Four Weeks to Rubber Soul: Day 28 | Finish

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Finish Makes Next Possible

Twenty-eight days ago, I began a creative journey inspired by an album that The Beatles recorded over approximately four weeks during the fall of 1965. I wanted to explore the lessons of creativity, collaboration, experimentation, and commitment found within the making of Rubber Soul. More importantly, I wanted to challenge myself to create something meaningful every single day while encouraging others to embrace their own creative possibilities.

Today, October 11, 2026, I reach the finish line of this journey. For twenty-eight consecutive days, I have written a blog post and recorded a reel inspired by four musicians whose creativity continues to shape my life. I have researched, reflected, listened, experimented, and shared ideas that have challenged me to think differently about my own creative process. What began as a celebration of an extraordinary album gradually became something much more personal.

Somewhere along the way, I discovered that I needed this experience as much as anyone who might have been reading or watching. I began with the hope of inspiring others, but I am finishing with a renewed understanding of what creativity means in my own life.

I began this journey hoping to build community and connection. I wanted to encourage others who might be struggling to find their creative voices or searching for their own bandmates. After all, one of the greatest lessons of The Beatles is that remarkable things can happen when people bring their individual talents together in pursuit of something meaningful. I hoped this series might create opportunities for conversation, encouragement, and perhaps even collaboration.

The experience did not always unfold as I imagined. There were days when the engagement was quiet and the response was less than I had hoped. I sometimes wondered whether these reflections were reaching anyone or whether the ideas I was sharing were making a difference. Those moments were difficult because the desire for connection was a genuine part of why I began this journey.

At times, I felt as though I was standing alone on a stage in an empty auditorium, sharing my voice with rows of unoccupied seats. There is a certain vulnerability in putting something personal into the world and wondering whether anyone is listening. I have experienced that feeling more than once throughout these four weeks.

Still, I kept showing up. I kept writing, recording, learning, and sharing. Even when the auditorium seemed empty, I continued to fill the space with my voice. I began to understand that the absence of applause did not mean the absence of purpose. The courage to create could not depend entirely upon whether someone was there to acknowledge the work.

I also want to recognize that the auditorium was never entirely empty. There were people who took the time to read these reflections, watch the daily reels, leave thoughtful comments, and offer words of encouragement. Some followed the journey quietly, while others shared their thoughts along the way. Every expression of support mattered, and I am genuinely grateful to everyone who made room for this creative journey in their lives.

That gratitude is important to me because I never wanted this experience to be simply about producing content. I wanted it to be about sharing ideas that might encourage someone else to begin creating, take a risk, or rediscover something meaningful in their own life. I may never know how these reflections resonated with everyone who encountered them, but I am grateful for every opportunity to make a connection.

The four words that guided this journey were Begin, Collaborate, Experiment, and Finish. Looking back, each one carries a deeper meaning than it did when I started.

I began with an idea and the willingness to take a creative risk. I explored collaboration by studying the extraordinary chemistry of The Beatles and reflecting on the importance of finding people who encourage and challenge one another. Although I did not discover the band of collaborators I had hoped to find, the experience reminded me why those connections matter and why I want to remain open to them.

I experimented with my writing, my voice, and the daily practice of recording and sharing reflections. I became more comfortable putting my ideas into the world without knowing how they would be received. The discipline of creating something every day gradually became less intimidating and more natural. I discovered that the simple act of showing up consistently could strengthen my confidence and give me the courage to explore new possibilities.

Now, I have finished something I promised myself I would complete. I have twenty-eight days of creative work to show for that commitment, along with lessons that I could never have anticipated when I began. I have learned that creativity requires discipline, but it also requires trust in ourselves and a willingness to keep going when the response is uncertain.

The Beatles offer a remarkable example of what finishing can make possible. When Rubber Soul was released on December 3, 1965, it represented a significant creative achievement. The Beatles had expanded their musical vocabulary, explored new approaches to songwriting, and demonstrated an increasing willingness to challenge their own artistic boundaries.

They could have continued repeating that successful formula, but their curiosity and creative ambitions carried them forward. Within months, they were recording Revolver, an album that would take their experimentation into even more adventurous territory. Their journey continued through Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band and beyond, with each completed project opening possibilities that had not existed before.

That example has stayed with me as I have approached the conclusion of this challenge. Finishing something meaningful does not require us to remain in the same creative space. The accomplishment deserves to be celebrated, but it can also become the foundation for another beginning.

Finish is not the opposite of Begin. Finish is what makes Next possible.

There is something particularly meaningful about the timing of this final reflection. Today is October 11, and tomorrow marks the sixty-first anniversary of the beginning of The Beatles’ Rubber Soul recording sessions at EMI Studios in London. On October 12, 1965, they began recording music that would eventually become one of the most influential albums of their career.

I find something beautiful in that connection. As I finish this journey inspired by Rubber Soul, I am standing on the eve of the anniversary of its beginning. More than six decades separate these two creative experiences, yet the lessons of curiosity, commitment, and courage continue to resonate. An album created in 1965 inspired me to begin something in 2026, and finishing that experience has given me the courage to consider what comes next.

For much of my life, I have believed in the power of community, collaboration, and finding people who share a common purpose. I still believe in those things, and I still hope to find more bandmates who want to create, encourage, and build something meaningful together. That hope has not disappeared simply because this experience was sometimes quieter than I anticipated.

What has changed is my understanding of what I can do while those connections have yet to develop. I do not have to wait for a full auditorium to share my voice. I do not have to wait for someone to invite me into a creative space or measure the worth of an idea by the number of people who respond to it. I can begin where I am, create with what I have, and trust that the work itself has meaning.

Perhaps that is the true lesson I have discovered through Rubber Soul. The album is certainly a testament to the extraordinary possibilities of collaboration, but it is also a reminder that creativity requires curiosity, courage, and the willingness to move beyond what we already know. The Beatles continued to grow because they remained open to what might come next.

I want to carry that same spirit forward. I want to continue creating, learning, exploring, and sharing ideas that might make a difference in someone’s life. I want to remain open to the possibility of finding new bandmates while recognizing that I already have the ability to create something meaningful on my own.

I am grateful for everyone who followed this journey, read the daily reflections, watched the reels, shared a comment, or offered encouragement. Your presence and support have meant more than you may realize. I hope that somewhere along the way, something I shared encouraged you to consider your own creative possibilities.

Most of all, I am grateful that I did not abandon this journey when it became difficult or when the response was not what I had imagined. I gave myself the opportunity to discover something about my own creativity, discipline, and courage. I found a renewed sense of purpose in the simple act of showing up each day and creating something meaningful.

I do not want this journey to end. The daily rhythm of creating has become something I genuinely value, and I hope to continue nurturing it. I do not know exactly what the next creative chapter will look like, but I am no longer waiting for every detail to fall into place before I begin.

There is still music to discover, stories to tell, ideas to explore, and meaningful work to create. There are still people I hope to meet and bandmates I hope to find. There are possibilities I cannot yet imagine, and I want to remain open to discovering them.

Twenty-eight days ago, I stepped onto a stage with an idea and the hope that someone might listen. Today, I may still be standing on that same stage, but something has changed. I have filled that space with my voice, my creativity, and the courage to keep going. The auditorium may not be full, but I am no longer waiting for an audience before I begin.

I began. I explored the possibilities of collaboration. I experimented. I finished. The journey did not unfold exactly as I had imagined, but it gave me something I needed and reminded me that there is still so much more to discover.

As I finish this journey, I am grateful for everyone who shared even a small part of it. I am grateful for the music of The Beatles, for the lessons of Rubber Soul, and for the courage I have discovered through these twenty-eight days.

I may not know exactly what comes next, but I know that I am ready to begin.

Thank you for being part of Four Weeks to Rubber Soul.

Special Acknowledgements:

A very special thanks to Nicole Michael of 910 Public Relations and Dave Burgess of Dave Burgess Consulting, Inc. for their generosity in promoting this series on their respective platforms. Both have always been in corner for years and I grateful for their sincere support. Their belief in my work means the world to me.

Stay tuned for my next book with Dave Burgess Consulting, Inc: Leadership Riffs.

Today’s Reel:

Complete: Day 26 of Four Weeks to Rubber Soul

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Complete: Day 26 of Four Weeks to Rubber Soul

Today’s word for Day 26 is “Complete.”

There comes a moment in every creative journey when we have to stop revising, stop second-guessing, and trust the work we have created. We have to declare it complete. For The Beatles, that moment arrived in November 1965 as they finished recording Rubber Soul. For me, that moment arrives every morning when I press Publish on another blog post or reel, sending a small piece of my creativity into the world with the hope that it will find its way to someone who needs it.

It is not always easy to declare something complete. There may be doubts, fears, and uncertainties behind placing that final period at the end of the final sentence. There may even be a flaw or two in the finished work, and that is perfectly fine. We have to honor our humanity, embrace the imperfections that come with the creative process, and believe that our vision is worthy of being shared with others. Completion does not necessarily mean perfection. Sometimes, it simply means having the courage to trust the work.

Think about the remarkable journey of Rubber Soul. The Beatles had spent weeks recording, experimenting, rewriting, refining, and pushing themselves into new creative territory. They were working against a deadline while discovering new dimensions of their artistic identities. Each recording session brought them closer to completing an album that would mark an important turning point in their creative evolution.

Their final recording session for the album took place on November 11, 1965, extending into the early hours of November 12. Among the final songs recorded was “Girl,” a John Lennon composition that beautifully demonstrates the increasingly introspective direction of his songwriting. I often wonder what that final session must have felt like for John, Paul, George, and Ringo. Was there exhaustion mixed with relief? Did they feel a sense of pride in what they had accomplished? Were they uncertain about how their latest collection of songs would be received? I would have loved to have been a part of that final recording session, simply to experience the atmosphere in the studio and witness the band reaching the finish line. We cannot know exactly what they were feeling, but I find myself drawn to imagining that moment when the work was finally complete.

For the past 26 days, I have published a daily blog and reel as part of this personal creative challenge. Each morning, I have stepped into the unknown by sharing my ideas, reflections, and creativity with the world. My passion for The Beatles and Rubber Soul is certainly nothing new. Their music has always been a comfortable and familiar place for me to dwell, reflect, and find inspiration. Through this series, however, I have attempted to move beyond simply celebrating the music by connecting the album to new ideas about creativity, collaboration, leadership, and the importance of doing the work.

There have been mornings when I have felt a quiet sense of pride in what I have completed. There have also been moments when I have wondered whether my work has resonated with anyone or whether anyone has even taken the time to read or watch. Some posts and reels have generated meaningful responses and connections, while others have received far less engagement than I had hoped. I would be less than truthful if I said that those quieter moments did not occasionally leave me questioning myself. Yet, through all those moments of uncertainty, I have continued to create, reflect, and share. I have honored the commitment I made to myself when this journey began.

As I approach the conclusion of this month-long series, I am beginning to look back and marinate on what I have learned. There is much to ponder about the discipline of creating something every day, the courage of sharing personal reflections, and the unexpected discoveries that emerge when we give ourselves permission to explore our creativity. One particular lesson resonates with me today as I consider the word “Complete.”

Completion is the moment when we stop measuring our work by what we might still change and begin trusting what we have already created.

I cannot control who reads my blog or watches my reels. I cannot determine whether friends, family, colleagues, or complete strangers will take the time to engage with what I have shared. I can only control the care, intention, authenticity, and effort I bring to the creative process. Once I press Publish, the work begins a journey beyond my control. It may resonate with someone today, tomorrow, or perhaps years from now. It may reach only a handful of people. None of those possibilities diminishes the value of the work or the personal growth that came from creating it.

As I reflect upon my discoveries during Four Weeks to Rubber Soul, I realize that I am not simply writing about The Beatles. I am using their creative journey to better understand my own. The daily discipline of writing, recording, revising, and publishing has reminded me of the importance of trusting my voice, embracing the creative process, and finding fulfillment in the work itself. There is something liberating about recognizing that the act of creating has its own rewards, even when the response from the outside world is quieter than we might hope.

Complete is a powerful word because it asks us to trust ourselves. It invites us to recognize the effort we have invested, the lessons we have learned, and the creativity we have shared. There will always be another sentence to revise, another recording to improve, or another idea to explore. At some point, we have to believe that what we have created is worthy of being shared. We press Publish, release our work into the world, and hope it lands where it needs to land. The act of completion becomes an act of faith in our creativity and in ourselves.

Today also carries a special significance as we remember John Lennon on what would have been his 86th birthday. When I listen to Rubber Soul, I hear an artist becoming increasingly willing to explore new dimensions of his creative voice. Songs such as “Norwegian Wood,” “Nowhere Man,” and “In My Life” reveal a songwriter moving into more personal, introspective, and imaginative territory. John was willing to explore new possibilities in his songwriting, and that creative courage continues to inspire me.

John and his fellow Beatles completed Rubber Soul without knowing the lasting impact their work would have on generations of listeners. They had created something meaningful, trusted their creative instincts, and released their music into the world. Perhaps that is one of the most beautiful lessons we can take from their journey. We do the work, give it the care and attention it deserves, and trust that it will find its place in the world.

As I press Publish on Day 26, I am learning to embrace that same sense of trust. I am grateful for the journey, the discoveries, and the opportunity to share a little piece of myself each morning through the music that has meant so much to me throughout my life. My work for today is complete, even as my creative journey continues.

Check out today’s reel for more:

Commit: Day 22 of Four Weeks to Rubber Soul

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Commit

Welcome to the fourth and final week of Four Weeks to Rubber Soul. For the past three weeks, we have explored what it means to begin, collaborate, and experiment. Now we arrive at our final theme: Finish.

Our word for Day 22 is Commit because finishing begins with a decision. At some point, the experiment needs a commitment. Ideas become work when we commit to finishing them.

The Beatles understood that reality during the making of Rubber Soul. For all the creativity surrounding those sessions, there was also an immovable deadline. The Beatles needed to deliver a new album in time for the Christmas market. They could experiment with unusual sounds, rewrite songs, abandon takes, work through long sessions, and chase new ideas, but eventually they had to finish the record.

That deadline did not stop experimentation. It gave the experimentation somewhere to go. The ideas had to become songs, the songs had to become an album, and the album had to be finished.

I am thinking about commitment quite a bit these days. I am finishing my second book, Leadership Riffs, after months of writing, revising, questioning, discovering, and trying again. There comes a point in any creative project when the question has to change. We stop asking whether the idea could become something and start doing the work necessary to make it something.

The same is true for Four Weeks to Rubber Soul. I have made it through three weeks of daily blog posts and reels. The novelty and excitement of beginning have faded. I have experimented publicly, shared ideas that were still developing, and kept showing up even when the engagement sometimes disappointed me.

Now there are seven days remaining. This final week is less about asking, “Can I do this?” and more about saying, “I am going to see this through.”

Commitment matters because beginnings are exciting and experiments are full of possibility. Finishing asks something different from us. It asks us to keep showing up after the novelty disappears, continue when the response is quieter than we hoped, and stay with the work long enough to complete what we started.

The Beatles had a record to finish. I have a book to finish and seven more days of this creative journey to complete. You may have something waiting for your commitment too.

As we begin this final week, think about the unfinished work in your own life. What idea, project, dream, or creative pursuit deserves more than another someday? What would happen if you decided that now is the time to see it through?

That is where Finish begins. It begins with a commitment to the work and a decision to keep going until the work is complete.

Check out today’s reel:

Day 15 Curiosity: Four Weeks to Rubber Soul

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This is Day 15 of Four Weeks to Rubber Soul, which means we have reached the halfway point of our month together. We have spent the past two weeks exploring the creative journey The Beatles took during the fall of 1965 as they recorded Rubber Soul along with “Day Tripper” and “We Can Work It Out.” Those two songs were released separately from the album as their first double A side single.

I am grateful for everyone who has followed these daily blog posts and reels, shared them, reposted them, or offered a nudge of encouragement along the way. If you have missed a day or fallen behind, there is no checklist, deadline, or test waiting at the end. Creativity does not always move according to a schedule. Sometimes we need room to explore, wander, return, and move at the pace that helps the work grow.

Today also begins a new week and a new theme: Experiment. Our word for Day 15 is Curiosity, because experimentation usually begins with one of the simplest and most powerful creative questions we can ask:

What if?

That question seems especially fitting for Rubber Soul. The Beatles were increasingly interested in finding different sounds, trying unfamiliar instruments, and pushing beyond the musical boundaries that had defined their earlier recordings. George Martin later recalled that they were constantly experimenting with unusual sounds and bringing new ideas into the studio.

Imagine some of the questions surrounding those sessions. What if George Harrison tried a sitar on “Norwegian Wood?” What if a piano part could be manipulated to create a completely different texture? What if another harmony changed the emotional feel of a passage? What if an unexpected percussion sound gave a song exactly what it needed?

Those questions may be imagined, but the experimentation behind them was very real. George Harrison brought the sitar into “Norwegian Wood,” one of the album’s most distinctive sounds and an early sign of his growing fascination with Indian music. The larger spirit of Rubber Soul was one of exploration, with the band deliberately searching for sounds and approaches they had not used before.

“What if?” is an essential question for any creative pursuit because it creates room for possibility. It moves us beyond the safety of what we already know and invites us to explore what might happen next. Curiosity opens the door to conversation, experimentation, collaboration, and discovery.

The best part is that asking the question does not require knowing the answer. Creativity rarely gives us that luxury. Sometimes we simply have to follow the idea, try the sound, write the paragraph, make the call, invite the collaboration, or test the possibility.

What question are you willing to follow as you work to ship something that matters? What question could invite a new idea, a different perspective, or an unexpected collaboration into your work?

Curiosity gives us permission to wonder before we know. Experimentation gives us permission to find out.

Curiosity is “What if?” in action.

Check out today’s reel for more:

Give: Day 14 of Four Weeks to Rubber Soul

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As we wrap up week two of “Four Weeks’ to Rubber Soul,” our landing for today’s word is “Give.” The word blends in as suitable ending for the 2nd week theme of the series being “Collaborate.” Each member of The Beatles willing give of their strengths, ideas, and talents on each track of the “Rubber Soul” album. Their actions serve as a solid lesson for what it means to be a supportive collaborator in the creative process.

For us, the lesson from The Beatles is to give your part everything you have. On Rubber Soul, nobody simply showed up and occupied a role. John brought songs, voice, rhythm guitar, vulnerability, humor, and increasingly personal writing. Paul brought songs, bass lines, harmonies, musical imagination, and an instinct for arrangement. George brought guitar textures, harmony, songwriting, and the sitar that helped transform “Norwegian Wood.” Ringo brought the pulse, feel, personality, and exactly the kind of drumming each song needed. George Martin and the Abbey Road team also gave their creativity to the record. Each groove on the album is filled with sonic excellence.

The lesson becomes bigger than The Beatles. Giving does not require being the person in the spotlight. Giving means bringing your full contribution to the work because the work matters and because your bandmates matter. When you have a full balance of mattering among bandmates, the desire to give of yourself is heightened. It’s a beautiful thing when it happens in within the realm of any team, organization, or creative collaboration.

You may be wondering what is it that you have to give to a band. Ringo Starr once said in The Beatles Anthology documentary that when The Beatles got to focusing on the music, they put in “a thousand percent.” He is talking about this in relation to their final studio album, Abbey Road. That 1000% contribution factor is all over Rubber Soul. Each Beatle brought something different, but each one gave himself to the song.

You do not have to give what somebody else gives. Give what is yours to give. Bring your voice. Bring your gift. Bring your effort. Believe that you have to give matters and helps make the world a better place. The band becomes stronger when everyone gives something to the song.

Check out today’s reel:

Mattering: Day 11 of Four Weeks to Rubber Soul

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Today is Day 11 of Four Weeks to Rubber Soul, and our word is Mattering.

Mattering is a word that carries a great deal of meaning for me. People need more than a place in the room. We need to know that we are seen, heard, valued, and needed. We need to know that our presence makes a difference and that our gifts have a place in the band.

Rubber Soul offers a small example of that idea. John Lennon and Paul McCartney will always be at the center of The Beatles songwriting story, yet George Harrison and Ringo Starr also have meaningful space on the album. George contributed “Think for Yourself” and “If I Needed Someone.” Ringo stepped into the spotlight as the lead vocalist on “What Goes On,” which also carried his name in the songwriting credit alongside Lennon and McCartney.

I do not want to romanticize The Beatles. They experienced tension, disagreement, frustration, and complicated relationships along the way. They were human, just like us. Their story still reminds us that collaboration does not require perfect relationships. It does require making room for other people to contribute.

That is where I see the connection to mattering. A band becomes stronger when people know there is room for their voice. A team becomes stronger when people know their strengths are noticed. A community becomes stronger when people understand that they are not simply occupying a chair. Their presence, perspective, and contribution matter.

Mattering has become significant in my own leadership journey because I have seen what happens when people feel invisible. I have also seen the difference that one moment of affirmation can make. Sometimes it is noticing someone’s effort. Sometimes it is asking for an idea or opening the door for someone else to lead. Sometimes it is communicating through our words and actions, we need what you bring to this band.

Those moments do not have to be grand. George gets a song. Ringo gets a vocal. Someone else gets the microphone. Someone gets invited into the conversation. Someone hears their contribution named and appreciated. Small moves can carry tremendous weight when they help people understand that they matter.

Mattering asks us to move beyond simply inviting people into the room. It asks us to notice what they bring once they arrive. It asks us to listen for their voice, recognize their strengths, and create opportunities for those strengths to contribute to something larger.

Rubber Soul works because it sounds like a band stretching together. Different voices, different gifts, and different personalities all contribute to the record. Our organizations, classrooms, teams, creative communities, and relationships need that same spirit.

Take a look around your band today. Consider who needs to know that you see them, whose voice needs more room, and whose gift you have noticed but have not yet named. Mattering grows when we help another person understand a simple and powerful truth: You are here. I see you. We need what you bring.

Check out today’s reel:

Invite: Day 9 of Four Weeks to Rubber Soul

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Invite: Day 9 of Four Weeks to Rubber Soul

Welcome back to Four Weeks to Rubber Soul. We are embarking on a month long journey to explore creativity through the lens of The Beatles’ album Rubber Soul. The album took about a month to record, and I am engaging in my own daily challenge during these four weeks: do something creative each day in service of this series through blog posts, reels, reflection, and conversation.

This week, our focus is Collaborate, which brings us to today’s word: Invite. Collaboration rarely happens without someone first opening the door. Someone has to share the unfinished idea, ask the question, make the call, or simply say, “What do you think?”

The U.K. version of Rubber Soul opens with the witty rocker “Drive My Car.” It is The Beatles deep in the groove, telling an amusing story that turns the familiar “boy meets girl” trope on its head. Paul McCartney arrived with the musical idea, but the original lyrics were not working. He had a refrain built around “golden rings,” an idea that Paul later acknowledged was going nowhere.

Paul knew he had access to a pretty remarkable wordsmith in his songwriting partner, John Lennon. Rather than protecting an unfinished idea or abandoning it altogether, Paul invited John into the process. The two worked through the problem together, eventually landing on the phrase “Drive My Car” and building the clever story we know today.

That invitation offers a glimpse into the Lennon and McCartney songwriting partnership. Sometimes they wrote together. Sometimes they wrote separately. Sometimes one arrived with a nearly completed song that needed something more. A fragment, missing section, lyric, or unfinished idea could become an invitation for the other person to enter the creative process.

Think about what grew from those invitations. Their collaboration helped change the shape of popular music, yet so much of that extraordinary work began with something remarkably ordinary: an invitation.

The same principle extends beyond Lennon and McCartney. Throughout Rubber Soul, songs changed as they entered the studio and other band members contributed their own musical ideas. Invitation requires trust. It also requires recognizing that another person may possess a gift, perspective, or idea that can take our work somewhere we could not reach alone.

Some of my most meaningful collaborations have begun with a simple invitation. Making that invitation requires a little courage because there is always the possibility that someone will decline. I would rather risk hearing “no” than carry the regret of wondering what we might have created together.

That is how my collaboration with Donya Ball began. I had invited Donya, an author, keynote speaker, and thought leader, to join us as a guest on the Leading While Human podcast. I valued her insights, appreciated her upbeat approach, and recognized that we shared an interest in talking about leadership in real and transparent ways. During that conversation, I realized how much I enjoyed riffing on ideas with her. I decided to extend another invitation.

That invitation eventually became our podcast, Real Riffs. Our conversations have challenged me, expanded my thinking about leadership, and created something that neither of us would have created independently. I am grateful that I made the invitation and even more grateful that Donya accepted it.

As I reflect on Four Weeks to Rubber Soul, I recognize that much of this particular creative journey is a solo pursuit. I am writing the blog posts, recording the reels, creating the social media posts, and showing up every day for a month. Some days, that can be challenging. Sometimes it can even feel a little lonely because I do not have a Lennon or McCartney sitting across from me, ready to riff on the next idea.

Maybe that is where you enter the story.

I hope Four Weeks to Rubber Soul feels like an invitation. Consider this your invitation to share an idea, leave a comment, ask a question, challenge a thought, or tell me what you are creating. I have deeply appreciated the comments and notes of encouragement from those who have joined me during these first nine days. Your words matter more than you probably realize.

Creativity does not always have to be a solo pursuit. Sometimes the next step is simply opening the door and inviting someone else into the room. Your unfinished idea might need another voice. Your next project might need a bandmate. Your creative journey might begin to take a different shape because you had the courage to extend an invitation.

Maybe, over these four weeks, we are all building our own Rubber Soul together.

You are invited.

Four Weeks to Rubber Soul

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On September 14, I am starting a four week creative experiment and countdown inspired by one of my favorite albums and one of the most important records in popular music history. I am getting ready for the upcoming Super Deluxe Edition of Rubber Soul, arriving October 2, and I wanted to do more than simply count the days. I want to use that time to create.

The Beatles recorded Rubber Soul in roughly a month during the fall of 1965. That still amazes me. In that brief stretch of time, they created an album that included “Drive My Car,” “Norwegian Wood,” “Nowhere Man,” “Michelle,” “Girl,” “If I Needed Someone,” and “In My Life.” During that same period, they also recorded “Day Tripper” and “We Can Work It Out.” In a matter of weeks, they created a classic that would help change the direction of popular music.

Rubber Soul marked a turning point for The Beatles. The writing became deeper. The sound became broader. The studio became part of the creative process in new ways. The band was stretching beyond what had worked before and exploring what might come next.

The impact traveled far beyond The Beatles. Brian Wilson heard Rubber Soul and was inspired to create Pet Sounds. The album also influenced bands such as The Kinks and The Rolling Stones. Decades later, its legacy remains strong. Rubber Soul entered the Grammy Hall of Fame in 2000, and “Michelle” won the Grammy for Song of the Year. It continues to appear on lists of the most important albums ever recorded.

What stays with me most is the process. Four people walked into a studio with ideas, songs, curiosity, tension, trust, and a willingness to try something different. They worked with George Martin and the Abbey Road team. They collaborated, experimented, changed direction, and kept moving.

That process is the inspiration behind Four Weeks to Rubber Soul. For the next four weeks, I am going to focus on four creative moves: Begin, Collaborate, Experiment, and Finish. Begin is about giving an idea permission to exist before it is fully formed. Collaborate is about recognizing that our work can become stronger when we allow other voices, perspectives, and gifts into the process. Experiment is about following curiosity, trying something unfamiliar, and accepting that not everything has to work the first time. Finish is about carrying the work across the line and releasing it rather than keeping it trapped in our heads, notebooks, or hard drives.

I want to see what happens when I commit to those four moves for four focused weeks. Starting September 14, I will share something every day inspired by Rubber Soul and the creative process behind it as I count down to October 2. Some days it will be a reel. Some days it will be a blog post. There will also be special riffs on Why The Beatles Matter. The goal is not simply to talk about an album I love. The goal is to use the album as a catalyst for making something.

The question I will carry through these four weeks is simple: What can we create when we trust the process, work with intention, and keep moving forward?

The first reel drops September 14. Follow along, create something of your own, tag me, and use #FourWeeksToRubberSoul so we can encourage one another through the process.

Let’s see what four focused weeks can create.

When the Impossible Finds Its Voice: How a Beatles Song Taught Me About Hope and Carrying On

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There is a phrase I keep coming back to: the impossible becomes possible.

Recently, I had another health scare that resulted in a visit to the hospital. I am alright and recuperating, but in the days that followed, I found myself searching for something to hold onto. A remix of a Beatles reunion song sent me on a journey to re-embrace hope and belief.

When The Beatles broke up in 1970, the world declared it over. Headlines announced the end of the most influential band of all time. In the years that followed, reunion rumors surfaced constantly, often fueled by money, charity, or fan speculation. Yet, The Beatles remained steadfast: no reunion. Even after John Lennon’s senseless murder in 1980, people still asked if the three surviving members might somehow return, with John’s sons stepping in. It seemed impossible.

And yet in 1995, a demo tape of John Lennon’s rough home recording was dusted off. With the steady guidance of Jeff Lynne, Paul, George, and Ringo added their voices and instruments. Out of grief, absence, and fractured history came something astonishing: “Free As A Bird.”

For me, it was a moment of awe. I was a young teacher then, two years into my career. When I read a small article about the surviving Beatles reuniting for Anthology, I ran off copies for every teacher’s mailbox in my school. I wanted everyone to feel the electricity I felt: this is really happening. When the song finally aired on television, I remember tearing up. It was not just about music, it was about reconciliation, healing, and the audacity of creating something new out of what seemed broken forever. I wrote about this event and its personal meaning to me in my book, The Pepper Effect.

In my office today, I still keep a tattered photocopy of Linda McCartney’s photo of Paul, George, and Ringo together from that era. Above it, I have written: “The Impossible Becomes Possible.” Because that is what the reunion meant to me then, and what it still means now.

And now, nearly 30 years later, “Free As A Bird” returns in a brand new mix. Thanks to modern audio restoration, John Lennon’s voice emerges clearer, closer, more present. It feels as if all four Beatles are back in the studio together. Each time I play it, I feel renewal. I feel hope.

Hope as a Leadership Catalyst

Hope is a word often dismissed in leadership circles. Some see it as naïve or impractical, a soft idea in a world that demands hard results. But I believe hope is not a weakness. Hope is a catalyst. It is the ignition that sparks vision into action.

As Casey Gwinn and Chan Hellman remind us in Hope Rising, hope is the belief that “your future can be brighter and better than your past and that you actually have a role to play in making it better.” That belief matters, especially when the weight of challenges threatens to crush our momentum.

The space between vision and action is leadership. Hope and belief have to be in that vision as catalysts.

As leaders, we do not always need a grand plan or sweeping solution in every moment. Sometimes, we just need an entry point. A reminder that even the hardest, most impossible-seeming work can move forward. For me, that entry point is hearing John Lennon’s voice stitched back into the fabric of his bandmates’ music. It is a symbol of reconciliation, resilience, and possibility.

Belief Made Real

The truth is, leadership often feels like trying to reunite what has been broken. It is messy. It is emotional. It is full of skeptics. But the work is also full of potential. When we model belief for our students, for our teachers, for ourselves, we give others permission to believe too.

“Free As A Bird” reminds me daily that impossible things can be made possible. For The Beatles, it was a reunion across decades and even death. For us, it might be turning around a struggling school, reigniting a team’s confidence, or building something new when resources seem scarce.

Whatever the context, hope can be the spark. And belief, when it is shared, nurtured, and lived, can make it real.

So when the days are heavy and the obstacles feel immovable, I return to that song. I hear the reunion of four bandmates who found a way. And I am reminded: if The Beatles could find harmony after all they endured, then maybe we can find our way, too.

As leaders, we have to believe that the impossible becomes possible. That is the gig. We must be relentless in that belief, even when the naysayers gather and the narratives say it cannot be done. Hope gives us the entry point. Belief carries us the rest of the way.

Our calling as leaders is to believe when others doubt, and to carry hope when the weight feels too heavy. When the impossible finds its voice, leaders must believe enough for others to join in the song.

Check out “Free As A Bird” (2025 Mix) by The Beatles:

Why The Beatles Matter

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Earlier this week, the world marked a somber anniversary—44 years since the tragic loss of John Lennon. For me, this day always stirs vivid memories. It was around this time that I first discovered The Beatles, embarking on a journey into a world of creativity, harmony, and collaboration that continues to shape my life and career. The Beatles have left an indelible mark on me, not only as a fan of their groundbreaking music but as someone who sees their legacy as a model for leadership, culture, and collaboration.

The Beatles’ story offers profound lessons for educators and leaders. Their journey is a testament to excellence, creativity, and innovation—qualities we all strive to cultivate in our schools and organizations. By nature, I am a storyteller, and I’ve always believed in the power of stories to build connections, foster belonging, and create psychological safety. In my years as a teacher and principal, I often found myself drawing comparisons to The Beatles, using their journey as a metaphor for teamwork and innovation. While I don’t expect everyone to love The Beatles as much as I do, I believe in sharing our passions as leaders. It’s a vehicle for hope, and education is a field that thrives on hope in abundance.

The Beatles didn’t invent creativity or collaboration, but they redefined it. They reinvented music, setting a standard for excellence that still resonates today. Imagine if we embraced their mindset in education—pushing boundaries, seeking new ideas, and innovating for the betterment of our students and communities. Steve Jobs, the visionary behind Apple, once credited The Beatles as his model for innovation and teamwork. He admired how the band’s chemistry and ability to balance each other’s strengths led to extraordinary accomplishments. Whether or not you’re a Beatles fan, every leader can appreciate the value of fostering a culture of excellence and innovation.

Next semester, I have the privilege of teaching a course on The Beatles at High Point University. It’s an opportunity to delve deeper into the band’s cultural impact and explore how their music and legacy continue to influence the world. Preparing for this course has inspired me to think about how The Beatles’ story resonates with others. Their music, recorded over a mere seven years, remains a staple on playlists and soundtracks across generations. The enduring relevance of their work speaks to their unparalleled ability to connect with people on a human level.

This reflection has also inspired the launch of my new podcast, Why The Beatles Matter, debuting December 12. Through this podcast, I aim to explore the band’s profound impact and why their music and legacy still matter today. I’m eager to hear and share stories from others who have been touched by The Beatles—whether as fans, creatives, or leaders. This podcast is a space to celebrate their influence and to discuss how their spirit of innovation and collaboration can inspire us in our own lives and work. I invite you to join the conversation by using the hashtag #WhyTheBeatlesMatter and share on the social media channel of your choice. Let’s connect, share, and celebrate the stories that bind us together.

As some of you may know, I am the author of The Pepper Effect, a book that explores how The Beatles’ timeless lessons can inspire creativity and collaboration in schools. If you’re interested, you can order a copy on Amazon. I hope the book serves as another bridge for connection and inspiration.

The Beatles matter because they remind us that we matter. They show us that we all have gifts to share, ideas to spark, and the potential to create something extraordinary. As we reflect on their legacy, let’s take a page from their story and embrace our own potential to innovate, collaborate, and make a lasting impact. I hope you’ll tune in to the podcast, join the conversation, and, together, let’s discover why The Beatles truly matter.