This time of year, everyone is talking about goals. New year, new plan, new you. Surveys suggest that more than a third of adults set formal New Year’s resolutions, yet only a fraction will still be keeping them months from now.
Last week, I sat in a room full of founders at a goal-setting workshop, doing what I’ve done my whole life: trying to map out exactly what I want to achieve this year. Only this time, something strange happened. My page stayed blank. Not “I need to think about this a little more” blank but more like a quiet, stubborn aversion to putting anything down at all. I looked around that room and realized most of us were doing the same thing we always do in January: trying to muscle our way into a perfectly planned year, even though our realities have never been less predictable.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that something in me had shifted. For most of my life, goal setting has been my superpower. I’ve had lists, plans, milestones. All mapped out with precision. It worked. That focus built momentum, created clarity, and helped me achieve things that once felt out of reach. Studies even show that people who write down their goals and share their progress are far more likely to achieve them than those who don’t, which helped me feel justified in my obsession.
But lately, I’ve noticed something softer (and surprisingly powerful) happening. When I look back, the most meaningful moments in my career and life didn’t come from the goals I created, but from the opportunities I allowed. When I stopped gripping the steering wheel quite so tightly, space opened for the unexpected. Suddenly, connections I couldn’t have planned, opportunities I never predicted, and a kind of peace I didn’t even know I was missing appeared.
Maybe that’s what maturity looks like, not losing ambition, but changing our relationship with it. Goals still matter; they give our energy somewhere to go. But “being open to yes” lets life meet us halfway. The problem isn’t that we’re suddenly unmotivated; it’s that we’re still using a linear, early‑career goal playbook in a non‑linear, leadership‑level life.
If you’re old enough to remember Yahoo Maps, you’ll get this. If not, stick with me. But it’s like using the printed-out paper version of the turn‑by‑turn directions in a city that’s constantly under construction. Remember that feeling? The map might be technically accurate, but the detours make it useless. That’s what rigid goal setting can feel like in a season of complex leadership: lots of directions, not enough orientation.
As our lives get fuller, more complicated, more layered, a single-pointed chase doesn’t always fit. Sometimes, diversifying what fills us brings balance. We achieve less in one area, perhaps, but thrive more as a whole person. Emotionally, that shift feels like moving from self-surveillance to self‑trust. Instead of constantly asking “Am I doing enough?” the question becomes “Am I being honest about what this season really needs from me?” Leaders who practice this kind of self-compassion tend to show more resilience and clearer decision-making, and their steadiness becomes a quiet form of safety for the people around them. Psychologists also find that being more open to new experiences is linked with higher life satisfaction and even healthier cognitive aging, which makes this kind of spacious, whole-person thriving more than just a nice idea.
So, here’s the question I’ve been wrestling with lately:
How do we know when to set goals … and when to surrender to what’s unfolding?
Over time, what’s helping me most isn’t choosing one over the other, but knowing which one belongs in front. Lately I’ve been thinking of it as a simple rhythm: Aim, Attune, Allow.
- Aim – Aim your energy toward what actually matters in this season.
What do I want to move toward in the next 6–12 months? One clear direction, not a 37‑item list. Writing goals down and sharing progress with someone significantly increases the odds we actually follow through, so putting language to that Aim still matters. - Attune – Attune to what’s real before you push.
What are my body, my work, my relationships telling me right now? This is where you notice constraints, energy, timing, and emerging opportunities instead of bulldozing through them. - Allow – Allow room for the unplanned yes.
Where can I loosen my grip and let something surprising in? Studies of people navigating later-life seasons suggest that those who combine committed pursuit with flexible adjustment of goals tend to have better well‑being and stay more actively engaged.
For me, the answer lies in seasonality. There are seasons for structure and drive, for making things happen. And there are seasons for curiosity, for listening, for saying “yes” without knowing exactly where it will lead — in our own lives and in the way we lead others. When leaders stay locked in old goal patterns, teams learn to watch the leader’s willpower instead of building their own, and over time your best people drift toward leaders who give them both direction and room to move. Research on psychological flexibility in leaders links that mix of clear direction and adaptability to better decisions, stronger resilience, and more sustainable performance over time.
This is the work I love doing inside organizations: helping leaders and teams name what really matters, attune to the season they’re in, and then build simple, shared rhythms so people aren’t just inspired for a quarter, they’re actually equipped to move. When leaders Aim, Attune, and Allow out loud, they stop being the only driving force in the room. The organization starts to align around a shared way of deciding, adjusting, and acting.
Because the older many of us get, the clearer it becomes: the best things that happen to us often begin when we stop insisting on what must happen for us.
