The Image That Became a Reflection of My Life

The Compass

The first thing you see is the compass.

For much of my life, I knew how to measure progress. Build the team. Fix the problem. Improve the business. Hit the number. Take care of the people. Take on the next challenge. Keep moving. And I became pretty good at it.

But eventually I learned something I wish I had understood much earlier: Movement isn't the same thing as direction. You can accomplish a lot and still wake up one day wondering where you're actually going.

Today, the compass means something very different to me. It represents your North. Your values. Your purpose. The people who matter. The person you want to become. Not what everyone else expects from you. Not the title. Not the next accomplishment. Yours.

Because before you can Take Control of where you're going, you have to know what you're moving toward.

The Imperfect Circle

Around the compass is an imperfect circle. That may be one of the most accurate representations of life I've ever seen.

Because life doesn't follow the plan. Careers change. Companies change. Relationships change. Responsibilities change. Priorities change. We change.

Some of the most important chapters of my life were never on the plan. And some of the hardest ones certainly weren't.

For years, I probably associated control with having things figured out. I don't anymore. Take Control isn't about controlling everything around you. It's about remaining centered when you can't. There is tremendous freedom in understanding the difference.

The Mountains

Then there are the mountains. I've climbed a few. Some professionally. Some personally. Some I chose. Others showed up without asking permission.

For much of my career, mountains were problems to solve. Get over this one. Then the next one. Then the next. Maybe eventually you'll reach the place where everything settles down.

I've learned there is no such place. There will always be another mountain. So perhaps the objective was never to eliminate them. Perhaps it's learning how to navigate them without losing yourself along the way.

The Man Isn't at the Top

This may be my favorite part of the entire image. Look at the man. He's not standing on top of a mountain with his arms raised. He's walking. That distinction matters to me.

Because I'm still walking too. Still learning. Still leading. Still making mistakes. Still changing. Still building. Still becoming.

There was probably a time in my life when I thought success was a destination. I don't believe that anymore. The destination isn't the point. The direction is.

And nobody else can walk that road for us. People can support us. Mentor us. Challenge us. Love us. Believe in us. But eventually, each of us has to take the next step.

The Road Isn't Straight

Neither was mine. Looking backward, I can see chapters of my life that didn't seem connected while I was living them. Different companies. Different responsibilities. Different people. Successes. Failures. Difficult seasons. Unexpected changes. Lessons I wouldn't necessarily have chosen.

At the time, they sometimes felt like completely different roads. Now I see something else. They were all part of the same one.

That's one of the things time and perspective give us. We spend so much time wondering why the road is turning. Then one day we look backward and realize the turns were part of getting us here.

I don't know exactly where the road ahead goes. And strangely, I'm more comfortable with that today than I've ever been. I know the direction. That's enough.

Six Symbols on the Journey

Along the road are six small symbols. Most people looking at the image probably won't know what they mean. I like that. They're there for me.

They represent the six principles behind the P.E.O.P.L.E. Method™: Focus on the Person. Employ Vision. Optimize Systems. People-Centric Continuous Improvement. Lead Authentically. Elevate the Environment.

I didn't want those words written across the tattoo. I wanted them along the road. Because I've come to realize these principles aren't simply a leadership framework. They're a way of living.

Start with the person. Know where you're going. Build systems that support it. Keep improving. Be authentic. Create an environment where people can become more. That's leadership. But it's also life.

Focus. Align. Decide. Act.

Near the bottom of the image are four words: FOCUS. ALIGN. DECIDE. ACT. The more I look at them, the more I believe they capture Take Control in its simplest form.

FOCUS. What actually matters? Not what should matter. Not what everyone else says should matter. What matters to you?

ALIGN. Does the life you're living reflect it? That's a harder question. Because sometimes the answer is no.

DECIDE. If something isn't aligned, what are you willing to change?

And then comes the word that separates intention from transformation. ACT. Do something. Take the step. Make the call. Have the conversation. Change the habit. Ask for help. Say no. Say yes. Start. Stop. But move. Because clarity without action changes nothing.

Your Life. Your Choices. Your Future.

At the bottom are three simple lines: YOUR LIFE. YOUR CHOICES. YOUR FUTURE.

We don't control everything that happens to us. Life has made sure I understand that. But there is almost always something we still control. The next choice. And then another. And another.

Those choices become actions. Actions become habits. Habits begin changing direction. And direction eventually changes a life.

Maybe that's what Take Control was trying to teach me before I ever realized I was building it.

Maybe I Needed It Too

When I wrote 'I Never Meant to Build TAKE CONTROL,' I meant it. I didn't sit down one day with a business plan and decide to create a framework. Take Control came from life. And life hasn't always followed the plan.

I've beaten cancer. I've experienced financial setbacks that forced me to rethink things I thought were secure. I've been wheeled into emergency surgery when life suddenly decided everything else could wait.

I've watched parents I once depended on begin needing others to care for them as dementia slowly changes the people I've known my entire life. I've walked beside people I love through recovery—learning that sometimes loving someone means supporting them while understanding that you cannot make their choices for them.

I've experienced professional highs and difficult transitions. I've made mistakes. I've had things happen that I couldn't fix. And for someone who has spent most of his career fixing things, that's an important lesson.

Because there are moments in life when there is no process to improve. No metric to manage. No team to reorganize. No problem-solving session that's going to make everything okay. Sometimes life simply happens. And you have to decide what you're going to do next.

Maybe that's where Take Control really came from. Not from believing we can control life. From finally understanding that we can't.

We don't control the diagnosis. We don't control what happens to the people we love. We don't control every financial setback. We don't control every change. We don't control every outcome. And we certainly don't control every mountain that appears in front of us.

But I've learned there is almost always something left that belongs to us. Our response. Our attitude. Our direction. Our next decision. Our next step.