You don’t care. And that matters more than you think


You don’t care.

At least not in the way you tell yourself you do.

That sounds harsh, but stay with me.

Most people do not lack intelligence or ambition. They do not even lack insight. What they lack is honesty with themselves.

Beliefs and behaviors are shaped by many things. Environment. Stress. Expectations. But underneath all of that, something else is doing most of the work.

Standards.

James Clear said, “You do not rise to the level of your goals. You fall to the level of your systems.” I think that is mostly true. Goals without systems rarely go anywhere. If goals alone worked, New Year’s resolutions would last longer than the excitement of writing them down.

But goals and systems both sit downstream from something more fundamental.

Standards decide whether goals matter.

Standards decide whether systems get followed.

A standard is the line you refuse to cross. It is what you tolerate. What you allow. What you quietly accept as good enough. It shows up in small actions far more than big declarations.

You probably have good intentions. Most people do.

Intentions just do not carry much weight on their own.

How many times have you let something slide because it felt minor.

How many times have you told yourself you would start tomorrow.

How many times have you mentally committed to something and walked away before it tested you.

Each of those moments teaches you something about yourself.

Not about your potential, but about your standards.

Every time you fail to follow through on a commitment, you send yourself a message. Sometimes it is loud. Sometimes it is subtle. Either way, it shapes who you become.

Tomorrow is not guaranteed.

Today is the only thing you actually have.

It is easy to waste potential while telling yourself the story that you meant well. Comfort loves that story. Ego loves it too. It lets you feel like a good person without asking anything difficult of you.

I will take someone who fails honestly over someone who hides behind great intentions and never acts. Failure teaches you. Avoidance just keeps you stuck.

Risk and vulnerability are not optional if you want a life you respect. They are the cost of admission. They feel uncomfortable because they force you to confront uncertainty and act anyway.

The alternative is quieter but heavier. Regret does not arrive all at once. It accumulates. It shows up later, when the noise fades and you are left with a question you can no longer avoid. Did I actually try.

This world does not need more people performing for approval. It needs people who hold themselves to a standard they can live with when no one is watching.

Stop caring so much about what earns applause.

Start caring about what earns your own respect.

The people who judge you are rarely ahead of you. Most of the time, they are standing still, watching movement remind them of what they have not done. Do not hand them authority over your choices.

Drop the ego.

Make peace with fear.

Take action anyway.

Raise your standards on the things that matter and let the rest fall away.

The only real question left is this.

Are you willing to be one of the people who lives by that standard.

And if not, are you willing to be honest enough to admit it to yourself.

Stay Curious and Lead A Life of Purpose,

John


If you are a coach, consultant, or facilitator, this next part is for you.

If your business still feels harder than it should, pause here.

This is not a motivation problem.

It is a structure problem.

A lot of talented people have high standards for their work and very low standards for how their business actually runs. The result is inconsistency, second guessing, and too much energy spent figuring out what to sell and who to sell it to.

My friends and colleagues Ped and Riley are offering one fully funded scholarship to their Leverage Accelerator program to fix exactly that.

Leverage Accelerator is a six month program built for coaches, facilitators, and consultants who want a clear offer they can explain in one sentence, product market fit without guessing, and a steady rhythm of client conversations that does not feel forced.

I serve as the performance coach inside the program. My role is to help you uphold your standards when execution gets uncomfortable. Decisions. Follow through. Momentum.

The scholarship covers $14,100 of support.

Only the first 50 applications will be reviewed.

Applications close Sunday, January 18 at 11:59pm EST.

The winner will be announced Tuesday, January 21 during a free live training.

Apply here

If your standards are higher than your current setup, this is worth your attention.

If you know someone who should see this, feel free to forward it to them.

The High Performance Paradox

A weekly newsletter delivered to your inbox every Thursday. Practical tips and insights to thrive in both, without compromising one or the other. Learn research-based strategies for sustaining energy, focus, and fulfillment from the inside out. Success shouldn't cost you your well-being.

Read more from The High Performance Paradox

The Danger of Living in Draft Mode I used to live in draft mode. For me, it showed up in my career. I had a goal I desperately wanted to achieve.I even had a plan for how to get there. But I kept it to myself.I never shared it with my boss.I never spoke it out loud. Because if I gave that goal breath, it would feel real.And real meant vulnerable. What if they thought I wasn’t ready? What if they told me I didn’t have what it takes? And if I’m being brutally honest… I was even afraid of...

I spent years working toward my doctorate. The work was intense. The vision was clear. The assumption was simple: once I crossed that finish line, everything would shift. Instead, I submitted the final paper, waited for the feeling, and nothing happened. No rush. No pride. Just silence. I wasn’t burned out. I wasn’t lost. I had just expected the moment to change something it wasn’t built to touch. I didn’t sit with it. I did what I always do. I moved on. What’s next? What’s the next thing to...

The Disease of Over-Potential When I first started climbing the ladder, I was all in. Ambitious. Energized. Obsessed with doing the work. But the higher I climbed, the heavier it felt. It wasn’t burnout from working too hard. It was something else. I was moving. But it felt like someone had their hand on the emergency brake. Meetings that didn’t matter. Office politics I didn’t respect. Squirrels everywhere. Every drama, every opinion, every distraction begging for my energy. And I gave it....