E11. Embracing Uncertainty

Boi Carpenter

Hey everyone, it’s Boi Carpenter here, and welcome back to the Inquisitive Leader podcast. I’m truly honored to have you here. Over the years, I’ve had the privilege of wearing many hats—visionary, advisor, strategist, a leader of large-scale teams, and, more recently, an executive coach. It’s a journey that has spanned over thirty years and has taught me countless lessons about leadership, personal growth, and the power of community. Today's episode is about embracing uncertainty when you are in unfamiliar territory.

Boi Carpenter

I want to begin by reading a poem by David Wagoner titled "Lost."

Boi Carpenter

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you are not lost.

Boi Carpenter

Wherever you are is called here, and you must treat it as a powerful stranger, must ask permission to know it and be known.

Boi Carpenter

The forest breathes. Listen.

Boi Carpenter

It answers, I have made this place around you.

Boi Carpenter

If you leave it, you may come back again, saying here.

Boi Carpenter

No two trees are the same to Raven. No two branches are the same to Wren.

Boi Carpenter

If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you, you are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows Where you are. You must let it find you.

Boi Carpenter

Today, I want to dive into a topic that I believe resonates with many of us, though few are willing to voice it: that unsettling feeling of being lost. It's a common experience, yet we often keep it to ourselves. Let's explore this together. Not just in the “I can’t find my car in the parking lot” kind of way, but in that deeper, more unsettling sense of not knowing what comes next, or even where you are on your own map. I was inspired by this line in David Wagoner’s poem “Lost”: “Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here.” I love that. It’s like the world isn’t lost just because we feel disoriented. Sometimes, we’re the ones who need to pause and let the moment find us, not the other way around.

Boi Carpenter

I think our first instinct, especially as leaders, is to move faster when things get uncertain. We want to fix, to act, to get out of discomfort as quickly as possible. But Wagoner’s poem suggests something different. He says, “You must treat it as a powerful stranger, must ask permission to know it and be known.” That line always gets me. What if uncertainty isn’t a threat, but a powerful stranger—something to respect, to approach with humility? I mean, I’m not saying we should just sit around and do nothing, but maybe there’s wisdom in slowing down, in listening, in letting ourselves be found by the present moment. It’s a kind of humility, right? Admitting we don’t have all the answers, and that’s okay.

Boi Carpenter

This idea of treating uncertainty as a teacher, not an enemy, really builds on what we talked about in earlier episodes—like when we explored the messy middle, or how simple stories can give us false certainty. Sometimes, the most powerful thing we can do is just stand still and listen.

Boi Carpenter

The forest knows where you are. You must let it find you is a reminder that being lost isn’t always a problem to solve. Sometimes, it’s an invitation to pause, to listen, and to let clarity catch up to us.

Boi Carpenter

So, let’s talk about stillness. I know, for a lot of us, stillness feels like stagnation. Like, if I’m not moving, I’m not making progress. But actually, stillness can be a strategy—especially when things feel confusing or overwhelming. I mean, think about it: when was the last time you made a great decision while you were rushing around, half-distracted, just trying to get to the next thing? For me, those are usually the moments I look back on and think, “Yeah, maybe I should’ve just taken a breath.”

Boi Carpenter

I’ve seen leaders—some I’ve worked with, some I’ve just admired from afar—who really embody this. They don’t rush to fill the silence or force a decision. Instead, they pause, reflect, and let things settle. And you know what? That pause provides great clarity for making a decision. Stillness wasn’t inaction; it was wisdom.

Boi Carpenter

And I want to offer a coaching prompt here, because I think it’s so important: Where in your life or leadership are you being asked to pause and listen, rather than just push through? Maybe it’s a tough conversation you’re avoiding, or a project that’s not going the way you planned. Sometimes, the answer isn’t to move faster, but to stand still and let the forest—whatever your “forest” is—find you. I know that sounds a little poetic, but honestly, it’s true. Stillness can be the most strategic move you make.

Boi Carpenter

Now, let’s reframe this whole idea of being lost. What if being lost isn’t a sign of failure, but actually a signal that you’re on the edge of growth? I mean, think about it—when the map fades, when plans unravel, that’s usually when we’re forced to recalibrate, rethink, and reconnect with what really matters. Sometimes, being lost is the lesson. It’s the moment that pushes us to ask, “What do I really value? What’s guiding me right now?”

Boi Carpenter

I’ve seen this play out in real life, not just in poetry. There was a leader I coached who, after a big organizational shakeup, felt completely unmoored. She kept saying, “I don’t know who I am in this new structure.” But instead of rushing to redefine herself, she took time to reconnect with her core values—what mattered to her, not just what her job title said. That process, that willingness to be lost for a while, actually led her to a new role that fit her so much better. It’s like, sometimes you have to let go of the old map to find the new path.

Boi Carpenter

So, if you’re feeling lost right now, I just want to say—you’re not alone. Sometimes, the unknown is the very ground where your next chapter takes root. Don’t rush through it. Stand still, listen, and let yourself be found. And hey, if you want to share your own story or reflection, I’d love to hear from you. We’ll keep exploring these questions together in future episodes. Until next time, take care and keep asking the good questions.