The other day I was chatting with a friend of mine who has had some truly momentous personal changes in the last couple of months. Said individual is a wise soul, who could well be expected to be wallowing in self-pity. Rather, and not surprising given the staunchness with which this individual takes on life, they are instead philosophical, intentional and equal parts digesting the changes while looking towards a new and unexpected future.
Given this individual’s challenges of late, it could be assumed that our interactions would be by way of me offering them support. Rather, and it is eminently possible that this is a function of my own self-absorption, increasingly the interactions trend the other way, with this individual demonstrating their wisdom by giving me guidance on the various challenges I myself have.
One conversation we have had revolved around being prudent and measured in communications, be they of a personal or a business nature. Long-time readers will be in no illusions that I have a modus operandi of load, shoot, aim, often opining before sufficient cogitation. While it is something I have been trying to moderate of late, it is ingrained and will, I suspect, be a lifelong work on.
At this point, it is probably worth acknowledging that the opening of this piece, prior to the tidy-up, looked like it had lost a fight with spellcheck and spellcheck won. I could have left it that way for authenticity, or perhaps laziness, but fixing it does not really undermine the point that follows, which is that speed, enthusiasm and certainty are often mistaken for clarity and wisdom. I am as guilty of that as anyone, perhaps more so given that I get paid, occasionally at least, to have opinions.
The conversation with my friend landed because it came at a time when I had already been reflecting on a couple of emails I had sent that week. They were not angry emails. They were not rude. They were simply premature. They were written in that dangerous window where you think you understand the situation but actually, you have only skimmed the surface. They felt good to send. They felt less good after rereading a day later.
In business, we lionise decisiveness. Founders are told to move fast. Leaders are encouraged to be bold. Commentators are rewarded for hot takes rather than considered ones. None of that is inherently wrong, but it does create an environment where pausing can feel like weakness and silence can feel like irrelevance. My friend gently suggested that sometimes the most powerful communication is the one you do not send, at least not yet.
That idea has been rattling around my head ever since, not because it is novel but because it is so unfashionable. In a world of instant messaging, read receipts and performative outrage, restraint feels almost rebellious. Waiting feels like a luxury we tell ourselves we do not have. And yet, when I look back at the communications I regret, very few of them were wrong in substance. They were wrong in timing, tone or context.
There is also something uncomfortable about prudence because it forces us to confront our own motivations. Am I sending this message to be helpful or to be heard? Am I replying now because it adds value or because it soothes my anxiety? Those are not flattering questions, and they are certainly not ones that lend themselves to rapid responses.
My friend, dealing with changes far more significant than a bruised ego or a misjudged email, has had to learn patience the hard way. When life removes your ability to act quickly, you either learn to sit with uncertainty or you go mad. Their perspective was not preachy. It was observational. They noted that most things improve with a little time, including our understanding of them.
Of course, there are moments when speed matters. Crises demand action. Silence can be misinterpreted. Prudence is not an excuse for avoidance. The trick, if there is one, is knowing the difference. That discernment only comes from reflection, and reflection requires space. Space is exactly what our default communication tools are designed to eliminate.
I am not pretending that I have cracked this. I still type responses in my head while someone else is talking. I still draft emails I should not send. Sometimes I still send them. But I am getting marginally better at recognising the familiar surge of certainty that usually signals I should slow down.
Which brings me back to that original conversation. Here was someone navigating upheaval with grace, taking time to think, choosing words carefully and somehow finding the bandwidth to help me be a little less reactive. It was a quiet lesson, offered without fuss and one I am trying to honour.
The next time I feel the urge to load, shoot and aim, I hope I remember that moment. Or at least I hope I remember to reread what I have written before hitting send. Sometimes progress looks less like dramatic change and more like a slightly longer pause.
