I don't think any of us has to look very far these days to feel the weight of what is happening around us. There are moments when I find myself overwhelmed by the sheer accumulation of it all: the headlines, the conversations, the uncertainty, the pace of change, and the seemingly endless expectation that we should somehow absorb it all and keep moving forward. It doesn't matter whether we're at work, at home or somewhere in between. It is becoming increasingly difficult to separate our professional lives from our personal lives because the tension follows us everywhere.
I've felt that myself, and I have a feeling I'm not alone.
The more I listen to friends, colleagues and leaders across our industry, the more I hear different versions of the same observation: Everything feels like it's changing. Markets shift before we've had time to respond. Technology evolves faster than we can learn it. Entire industries are reinventing themselves while organizations are still adapting to the last disruption. We are trying to lead teams, serve customers, care for families and simply keep pace with life while the ground beneath us seems to keep moving.
It's not just retail. It's not just our professional lives. It's life.
What strikes me is that when we talk about tension, we almost always treat it as something to eliminate. We search for ways to reduce it, avoid it or work our way around it. We assume that if something feels uncomfortable, uncertain or challenging, something must be wrong.
But what if we've misunderstood tension?
For much of my career, I believed strength came from stability. Build the strategy. Create the plan. Execute with discipline. Minimize risk. Hold everything together. Yet when I look back on the moments that shaped me most, both personally and professionally, they were rarely born from certainty. They emerged during periods of disruption, when familiar assumptions no longer applied and the path forward was anything but obvious.
The same is true within organizations. Very few breakthrough ideas emerge when everything is comfortable. Innovation rarely appears because conditions are perfect. It happens when expectations shift, assumptions are challenged and old ways of thinking no longer produce the results they once did. Growth asks something of us. It stretches us beyond what feels familiar and forces us to consider what might be possible.
That realization has led me to a belief that has become increasingly important throughout my career: tension is not the enemy of transformation. More often than not, it is the catalyst for it.
Think about some of the things we admire most. A suspension bridge relies on tension to create strength. A guitar string relies on tension to create music. Even our muscles grow stronger when they are placed under resistance. In each case, tension is not evidence that something is failing. It is evidence that something is being challenged to become more than it was before.
Yet most of us spend a remarkable amount of energy trying to remove tension from our lives. We want certainty. We want predictability. We want assurance that the decisions we make today will continue to serve us tomorrow. When disruption arrives, our instinct is often to restore what was rather than understand what is happening.
I've certainly been guilty of that myself.
What I've learned, however, is that the collision itself is rarely the lesson. The lesson comes from what the collision reveals. Disruption has a way of exposing assumptions we didn't know we were carrying. It reveals habits we've stopped questioning, biases we may not even recognize and ways of thinking that once served us but no longer fit the world we're navigating. The discomfort is real, but so is the clarity that can come from it.
That is why I believe leaders, organizations and individuals alike need to stop viewing tension solely as something to manage and begin viewing it as something to understand.
The question is no longer, "How do I make this go away?"
The more valuable question is, "What is this trying to reveal?"
Viewed through that lens, tension becomes more than pressure. It becomes information. It becomes insight. It becomes an opportunity to challenge assumptions, see differently and discover possibilities that might have remained invisible had everything stayed exactly the same.
This is where my fascination with the idea of a thread comes in.
A thread appears deceptively fragile. On its own, it doesn't look capable of carrying much weight. Yet put it under tension and you begin to understand that appearances can be deceiving. A thread can stretch farther than we expect. It can hold more than we imagine. Its strength isn't always obvious until it is tested.
I think humans are much the same.
We often don't know what we're capable of until life asks something more of us. We can feel stretched, uncertain or even close to our limit, only to discover that we have more resilience, creativity, courage and capacity than we thought. That doesn't mean the experience is easy, nor does it mean every difficult moment produces a positive outcome. It means tension can reveal something in us that comfort never had a reason to show us.
Throughout my life, I've come to appreciate that the moments we resist most can become the moments that shape us most. Whether through my work with global brands and creative teams or through the disruptions life has inevitably brought my way, I've learned that tension isn't something to fear. It is something to understand.
And maybe that is the opportunity in front of us right now. Not to eliminate every source of tension or pretend that uncertainty isn't difficult, but to become more curious about what it is revealing, what it is asking of us and what we might be capable of because of it.
I hope many of you will join me this October in Las Vegas at IRDC, where I will continue exploring these ideas in my closing keynote, Hanging by a Thread. The keynote takes this conversation into a more personal and interactive space, exploring resilience, uncertainty, transition, identity and the human connections that can help hold us up when life stretches us beyond certainty.
Until then, I'll leave you with one final thought.
The strongest threads aren't the ones that never experience tension. They are the ones that discover what they are capable of because of it.