Well Being

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.

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.