When I was about 11, my parents took my sister and me skiing for the first time. They weren’t skiers, but they wanted us to have the experience. We spent a day in lessons, and by the next afternoon, we were practicing turns on the bunny slope.

Right at the bottom of that slope stood a massive, unavoidable tree, positioned right next to the lift line.

During one of her runs, my sister picked up speed while pointed directly at that trunk. My mom, watching the collision course develop from the bottom, started shouting, “Don’t hit the tree! Don’t hit the tree!”

What did my sister do? She stared at that tree with total intensity and ended up putting one ski on either side of it.

One of the first things you learn in skiing is that your skis go where your eyes go. If you are looking at the tree, you are going to hit the tree. But if you look at the open snow—the space between the trees—that is exactly where you will travel.

Leading through the noise

Lately, I’ve noticed that some of the leaders I work with are having a challenge keeping their eyes on the open snow. We can all see some very big “trees” right in the middle of our path.

We are staring at AI and wondering if it will make our skills obsolete. We are staring at political unrest and wondering how to protect our people from the distraction and anxiety it creates. And we are staring at our marketing plans, noticing that while leads might be steady for now, the future feels harder to predict.

When we fixate on these things, the natural response is a sense of “I don’t know.“

That uncertainty is heavy. It makes us doubt our agency. When we focus on the things we can’t control, we’re like my sister on that bunny slope—headed for impact because we’ve stopped looking at the path.

Finding the space between

I’ve been trying to shift my gaze. Instead of staring at the uncertainty of the “trees,” I’m trying to focus on the “space between”—the places where I still have the power to move.

When the fog of uncertainty gets thick, I find it helpful to ground myself in what I actually know to be true right now. I know I can still connect with people. I know I can look for the leaders who are making moves and find ways to support them. I know I can stand in a place of possibility for my clients, even when they are feeling stuck.

The best way to find the path is to ask a simple question: What is the smallest step forward that will give me new information?

Maybe that step isn’t solving the “AI problem” for the next five years. Maybe it’s just having one honest conversation with a client about what they need today.

I’m curious: What tree have you been staring at for too long?

When the voices are yelling about the obstacles, what is the small, grounded step that helps you find the open snow? If you find yourself fixating on a “tree” today, I invite you to pause and list three things you know for certain. From that list, notice if a small path forward begins to reveal itself.