When Work Becomes Poetic

This is a poem that I wrote entitled,

Work Becomes Poetic

Earliest goals were making the grades.

Tests, facts, and rulers ’till honor roll made.

Then commencement to land the best jobs.

Resumes, interviews, front of the mob.

On the job mission to beat competition.

Keeping up, looking smart, seize that ambition.

Then one day, pressure conduces to peace.

Seeking success to feel worthy does cease.

A more graceful driver initiates flow.

Conscious creating takes over the show.

Finding the calling, the inner voice speaks.

Striking the balance, potency peaks.

Today in my work, let this be my task:

Bury the falsity; take off the mask.

Let push meet surrender and melt into one.

The dance of creation has truly begun.

The work will advance because I was here.

Because I am balanced, the path becomes clear.

What needs to exist in the world at this time

Comes powerfully through shifted paradigm.

Reason plus yielding sums elegant team.

Seeing results, not as hard as it seemed.

Inspired action, with instinct braid.

My work adds up to a life well played.

I’m reminded of this poem because, my son is moving from middle school to high school In the fall, and this week, we met with his high school counselor to choose his curriculum. As we reviewed the dizzying choice of honors classes, advanced placement courses, dual enrollment opportunities, leadership activities, and other ways to stand out, I was struck by how similar it sounded to the work world, sports context, or the military.

In our culture, we are taught from a young age, to perform, compete, and position ourselves for success. Make the grades. Overtake the opposition. Get into the best schools. Land the best jobs. Build an impressive resume. Prove our worth.

Don’t get me wrong; I do believe that achievement is an admirable pursuit. In fact, many of the qualities that lead to success—discipline, focus, planning, and execution—are valuable gifts. Yet our educational and professional systems often emphasize these left brain, achievement-oriented qualities while leaving less room for reflection, creativity, intuition, and simply being.

For years, I followed that path myself.

The prep school. The Ivy League. The MBA. Earlier in my career, I served as a highly driven fundraiser, CEO, then Senior Advisor to California Governor Gray Davis. Then, I stepped away from the workforce for a decade to care for my family and serve at my church. I assumed that leaving a demanding career would naturally create more balance in my life.

It didn’t.

What changed was my environment, not my mindset.

I approached working in the home with the same drive I had brought to my career. There were schedules to manage, lists to complete, and outcomes to achieve. I wasn’t lingering in the garden, savoring a cup of tea, having long heartfelt conversations, or writing poetry.

But that season gave me something precious: space.

For the first time, I began to glimpse another way of being. A quieter way. A more receptive way. A way that valued presence as much as productivity.

Over time, those glimpses grew into a new understanding.

Burnout is often not a sign that we are failing. It may simply be a sign that we are trying to live as whole human beings while operating almost exclusively from one side of ourselves. We are both Yin and Yang. Both creators and achievers. Both intuitive and analytical.

The poem captures the shift:

“Then one day, pressure conduces to peace.
Seeking success to feel worthy does cease.”

Today, I no longer see life as a choice between ambition and peace, discipline and creativity, logic and intuition.

I see them as partners.

As a CEO and poet, I have discovered that my best work emerges when structure meets inspiration. The left brain provides form. The right brain provides vision. One organizes the work; the other breathes life into it.

This integration has transformed not only my work, but my experience of work.

“Let push meet surrender and melt into one.
The dance of creation has truly begun.”

Perhaps that is what so many of us are seeking—not less achievement, but achievement rooted in wholeness.

A life well played is not measured only by accomplishments. It is measured by authenticity, balance, contribution, and the courage to listen to our inner voice.

The good news is that we don’t have to wait for retirement, a career change, or a crisis to begin.

We can live whole-heartedly wherever we are.

We can close our eyes and take a conscious breath work meetings. Take a walk without a destination. Send love to a challenging work colleague. Sit quietly with a cup of tea. Have a meaningful conversation with a client. Write a few lines of poetry. Spend time in nature. Create something simply because it wants to be created.

Whatever your work may be, invite a little more Yin into it.

In the coming months, I’ll be creating retreats and experiences designed to help people reconnect with this more balanced way of living and working.

Until then, consider this your invitation:

Pause.

Breathe.

Listen.

There may be a quieter voice within you waiting to guide the next chapter of your work—and make your life more poetic.