The Quiet Revolution Already Stirring in You

I almost forgot that anger could be a guide.I almost forgot that grief could open a door.

Sometimes, the biggest shifts don’t come with fireworks. They start small, almost unnoticeable — a tiny pull in the body, a quiet whisper that says, "This isn’t yours to carry anymore."

Other times, the shift crashes through — wrapped in anger, grief, or a fierce, bone-deep no.

I didn’t expect the anger.I didn’t expect the grief.

At first, I thought I was just reacting — to feedback from trusted advisors, people who truly care about me and my work.

But underneath those waves... something older stirred.

A grief I didn’t even know I was carrying.A grief I think a lot of us carry — but rarely name out loud.

The Ache Beneath Our Success

It’s the grief of knowing — deep down — that somewhere along the way, we learned it wasn’t safe to be fully ourselves.

We learned to filter. To soften. To polish our knowing, our leading, our creating... so it wouldn’t shake the walls of structures we didn’t build.

Maybe you know that thrum too. The quiet fear that if we really led from our deepest truth — we'd be cast out.

I could feel it humming through me — like a tuning fork hitting the wrong note.  And instead of running from it, this time, I stayed.

I let the anger burn through, clean and clear. No apologizing. No explaining.

And somewhere, in the stillness after the storm, something surprising emerged. A memory. A way of belonging I had almost forgotten.

The Sky Is Speaking — and We're Learning to Move Together

In nature, a murmuration is the wild, breathtaking dance of starlings sweeping across the sky — hundreds, sometimes thousands — moving as one.

No one is barking orders. No one is falling behind.

Instead, each bird senses and responds to the subtle, intuitive shifts around them…and moves. Without shrinking. Without overpowering.

Murmuration isn’t control.  It isn’t chaos. It’s attunement.

Movement without fracture. Unity without uniformity.

It’s a living, breathing intelligence far greater than any one of them could achieve alone.

And maybe — just maybe — this is the kind of leadership we’re being asked to remember.

Leading not by dominating, or by shrinking. But by sensing. By trusting the deeper current that’s already moving through us.

When I was told to "tone it down," "make it more palatable," "tread lightly" — the old reflex stirred: Change yourself to belong. Edit yourself to survive.

But something wiser rose up. This is not about polishing my words. It’s about honoring my truth.

Will I keep contorting myself to fit into old architectures? Or will I trust the new pattern already stirring — in me, in you, in so many of us?

Leading Differently Means Trusting the Field

For too long, we confused fitting in with belonging.Especially in spaces built around old models of power. We learned to smooth our edges. To shape-shift. To survive.

Not out of weakness — but out of a deep ancient memory. If you’re too raw, too real, too different — you risk community, security, even survival.

That instinct once kept us safe. Now, it keeps us small. It keeps us disconnected from our own deepest inner knowing.

Even now, I see brilliant, courageous women hypervigilant about ensuring no rock is left unturned or sanding down their truth to survive systems never designed for them.

But beneath the surface, something more ancient — and stronger — is waking up.

A remembering. A different way.

It’s not rebellion. It’s not rupture. It’s re-patterning.

The way a single bird’s small shift can ripple through the whole murmuration, birthing a new shape in the sky.

A Promise to the Truth Within

What if this moment — this tender, breaking-open moment in history — isn’t a breakdown... but a murmuration?

What if leadership isn’t about pushing harder — but about sensing the shifts already happening... and daring to move with them?

The call isn’t to tame our truths to fit old forms. Or sanitize our language to survive masculine-coded rooms.

The call is to move with the deeper current. To trust that a single shift — made with compassion, courage, and conviction — can change the whole sky.

I’m not moving to leave anyone behind. I’m moving because the current is already stirring. And I trust that those who are ready will feel it too. I trust their wings will shift without even knowing why. I trust they’ll already be part of the new murmuration.

When Fear Whispers, Listen Closer

I won’t lie — it’s scary.

Sensing a new way to move often wakes up old fear - the fear that moving differently might cost us everything. 

It’s no small thing to feel the pull — and resist the urge to match the old flock. So, here’s my gentle invitation to you:

You don’t have to force it. You don’t have to burn down the old you to step into the new.

Just listen. Notice where your wings ache to move. Notice where your truth is already tugging at you.

Maybe it’s a word you speak a little braver tomorrow. Maybe it’s allowing yourself to be fully seen in a conversation you’d usually edit. Maybe it’s just sitting quietly with the stirrings inside you — and trusting them.

You’re not alone. We are learning to murmurate again — together.

The Murmuration Is Already Rising

Somewhere above us, the starlings move — without blueprints, without leaders, without apologies.They trust the invisible threads that bind them. They move with the wisdom of the field.

And we can, too.

A different way is already here. Already stirring.

So, give yourself space. Enough space for the fear to soften. Enough space to feel the shift calling you.

And when you do — know that you’re already part of it.  The murmuration is already rising.