slow is smooth and smooth is fast

SEALs train with the philosophy slow is smooth and smooth is fast. That’s how movements and behaviors become muscle memory – something imperative in high-speed combat situations. When we are on an enemy target, we move smoothly and dynamically assessing risk and using speed and violence of action only when necessary.

Organizational change fails when companies move too quickly...  skipping fundamental elements such as aligned vision and culture. They run to their death and the change process eventually stalls.

Brent Gleeson

"9 Navy SEAL Sayings That Will Improve Your Organization's Ability To Lead Change," Forbes. July 23, 2018

transformational change

The first thing to understand about transformational change is that the external environment -- technology, regulation, competition, the economy -- is forcing change upon your organization. Your organization is a sub-system of a larger system, and it must align its systems to the external world. Sometimes that external environment demands rapid change that may be uncomfortable for everyone.

Lawrence M. Miller

Transformational Change vs. Continuous Improvement, Industry Week. May 14, 2013

WD > WS

Monty Williams is a man of many sayings. Some of them, like, “Well done is better than well said,” have made it onto hats. Others sneak into his answers in press conferences (“Reps remove doubt”), and still more have been relayed to Suns players so often over the past two seasons that they show up in those players’ own responses (“Preparation meets opportunity”). But there are also some staples of Williams’s lexicon that don’t count as sayings, yet may be even more indicative of how he approaches both basketball and life.

If you watched Williams’s media appearances throughout the playoffs, you found that he has no problem saying “I don’t know” in response to a difficult question; he said it 17 times during the Finals alone. You also saw that when Williams is asked something that requires perspective, he will make sure to mention how “grateful” he is or how much “gratitude” he has to be in this position—he used those words in answers 18 times during the series, including when talking about how he still gets excited when he gets fresh gear.

Six of those 18 mentions came on Tuesday night, mere minutes after Williams’s Suns had lost Game 6 of the Finals—and an NBA championship—to the Milwaukee Bucks.

“It’s a blur for me right now,” Williams said, talking about the game’s fourth quarter. “I’m just thankful that God allowed me to be in this position to be the head coach in the Finals. It hurts badly, but I’m also grateful that we had this chance to play for a championship. I’m just grateful for that part.”

Paolo Uggetti

"The Suns’ Future Is Bright, As Long As They Have Monty Williams" The Ringer. July 22, 2021

could be called courage

He had fought the sea for life and won. He had sustained himself by his own wits and skill. He had faced loneliness and danger and death, if not without flinching, at least with courage. He had been, sometimes, deeply afraid, but he had faced fear and faced it down. Surely that could be called courage. 

Call It Courage by Armstrong Sperry, Simon and Schuster 1940

leadership that pulls

For fourteen years, my father conducted one of the country’s leading amateur Bach choirs in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. For a few of those years, I played in the orchestra and had the opportunity to watch his work up close.

My father’s voice was so soft it was often hard to hear in normal conversation, and on a crowded stage, practically impossible. Yet I noticed that when he spoke during rehearsals, not a single musician ever missed a word. Why not? Because when he began speaking, they would grow so quiet a dropped pin would have sounded like the cannonfire in the 1812 Overture.

He would speak — and everyone would lean in, craning to hear his every word.

He pulled them in.

I saw the most cynical, don’t-tell-me New York union musicians turn into putty when my father made a suggestion to start this passage with an up-bow, or to take that passage sotto voce so we could more clearly hear the tenors. People would turn themselves inside out to follow him — and they would follow him anywhere.

There were two reasons for this. First was that he was superb at what he did. He knew this music inside and out; it was in his bones; it was his life.

And second? He treated them with absolute respect. He didn’t tell them what to do; he collaborated with them…

Take an ordinary window fan and place it in a window, blowing inward. Switch it on. How far can you push a column of air into the room? Not far: within a few feet it starts doubling back on itself. But now, reverse the fan’s position so that it is blowing out — and you can pull that column of air all the way from a single open window clear on the other side of the house, even hundreds of feet away.

There is leadership that pushes. And there is leadership that pulls.

How far can you push people? Only so far. How far can you pull them? An awfully long way, if your leadership style embraces total respect for those you lead as its foundation.

When that second kind of leadership speaks — even when in a voice as soft as my father’s — people listen, because they feel valued, and because of that, they trust.

That kind of leadership, we’ll follow anywhere.

John David Mann

"Leadership That Pulls," Huffpost. April 30, 2016