Words Create Worlds…And sometimes they quietly take our power.

Words create worlds. This is something I fiercely believe.

Not because it sounds good–but because I’ve lived it.
I’ve coached it.
I’ve trained it.
And I’ve come back to it, again and again.

A few months ago, I noticed something.

My language had started to shift.
Not loudly. Not dramatically.
But subtly–like a slow leak in a tire.

I wasn’t speaking from clarity or creation anymore.
I was speaking from stress. From uncertainty. From the edge of fear.

What was once “Here’s what we’re building” had turned into
“What if it doesn’t work?”
“What else should we try?”

Now listen–asked from an expansive place, those are great questions.
But asked from fear?

And trust me–I know that fire.
I live by it. I coach from it.
I’m borderline addicted to it, because it fuels my best work.

But when that spark starts to dim?
When inadequacy or urgency creep in?
Old patterns–old programming–try to take the wheel.

And if I’m not intentional—if I don’t catch it—those fear-driven whispers start sounding like truth. And before I know it, my brain is priming my RAS (the part of the brain that filters what we notice and what we don’t) to look for evidence that confirms the fear, the doubt, the stories I've started to articulate.

Let me be real with you:
When I get pulled into that space, I lose touch with my brilliance.

I live in “what-ifs," not “what could be possible?”
I become reactive. Controlling. Less clear.
It doesn’t feel like leadership.
It feels like survival.

Fortunately, I’ve trained myself to notice.

The contraction.
The shallow breath.
The way I subtly shrink.
The way my words pull me down instead of calling me forward.

That’s my yield sign.
That’s when I pause, take a breath, and ask:

What am I reinforcing right now? What am I creating right now?

Because words don’t just describe our reality.

They shape it.

Language is a directive to the brain.
It tells us what to focus on.
What to feel.
What to fear.
What to fight for.
Or… what to believe is possible.

So I shifted.

I stripped away the noise.
I came back to clear, grounded language.

Not fluffy mantras. Not spin.
Just honest, intentional energy.

Language from my center–not from fear.
From vision–not from scarcity.
From ownership–not obligation.

And you know what happened?

Everything started to move.

→ We reworked and redesigned the website! (we have some updates to go, but 90% there!)
→ We launched a campaign that brought in dream clients.
→ We filled a retreat.
→ And we found our rhythm again.

It wasn’t magic–though when you’re in it, it can feel that way.

It was me reclaiming the world I wanted to create–and choosing to speak from that place, even before all the evidence showed up.

So here’s my invitation to you:

What are you speaking into existence right now?
What truths–or fears–are riding shotgun in your vocabulary?
What world are your words building?

Because every conversation, every email, every quiet thought is an opportunity to shift.
To recalibrate.
To reclaim.

To come back to the version of you that already knows.

Let this be that moment.

PS: If your team is shifting culture, mindset, or clarity–language is one of the most powerful levers we have. And mindfulness gives us the tools to catch the drift and come back stronger. If you're ready to go deeper, reach out.

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