Last night I watched an interview with celebrated British artist Tracey Emin. She shared her philosophy, spoke of her artistry and then mentioned how often she paints over pictures that she doesn’t like.

Her suggestion was that success is a numbers game. 

And to produce great art, one must create a lot of less than perfect art. 

May I humbly suggest that this is an absolutely wise observation for us, who are dedicated to creating, devoted to producing and in the game of longing to make masterwork.

To make magic demands that we must generate a lot of mediocrity. [Please read that twice]. 

Yes, to arrive at a Sistine Chapel ceiling or a Taj Mahal or a Moonlight Sonata, you and I must exercise the bravery to risk. And dare. And get things (very) wrong (as we explore uncharted lands). Until we get things right. 

We need to be willing to fail. We need to keep going when quitting seems best. We need to ignore the critics and silence the inner cynic (oh how loudly it chatters!). And continue to produce work that seems bad in the hot chase of work that will become amazing.

This summer was a small and subtle gift, of sorts. I hope yours has been too.

It began with a truly extraordinary event in Mauritius (oh what a magical island you are!), where I had the privilege of spending time with so many of my beloved readers in a setting that felt as magical as it was meaningful, sharing my insights on leadership and human greatness in this most messy of times we inhabit (things will get better!).

The energy in the room, the generosity of spirit, the shared commitment to human growth and business excellence—it reminded me again of why I do what I do. I am deeply grateful to everyone who attended, participated, and helped make it such  a powerful experience.

After that, I traded a microphone and meeting room for something far quieter and quite necessary after the first 6 months of this year crisscrossing the planet for keynotes and mentoring engagements. I spent three weeks in a small cottage on a vineyard in South Africa.

Winter there meant roaring fires in the evenings, the glorious scents of nature in the air, and the simple pleasure of reading the classics—Tolstoy, Emerson, Orwell and Woolf—while the rain tapped gently on the windows. And my mountain bike waited for me to show up.

Mornings started at 4AM with MVP (Meditation, Visualization and Prayer) then a 5AM workout in the gym. After journaling and an ice bath (and some strong coffee), I’d work on the outline for my next book.

I also picked up my paintbrush again, fully losing myself in colours and shapes. Making my art is one of the few pursuits that deeply quiets my mind and allows me to retreat from the world. It’s a meditation for me, of sorts. I adore the pursuit [a sincere thank you to all the collectors seeking my artworks].

I also spent long hours reflecting on how I can evolve as a content creator and leadership thinker over the years ahead, while elevating my roles as a family man, friend and public servant.

I think you’ll agree it’s super important to regularly take stock of where we’re heading and how we’re doing so we can course correct when needed. Or celebrate the progress if deserved.

Three lessons emerged from this time away. I pray they bring you value.

The first was this one: wisdom lives in stillness.

In our world of constant noise, ceaseless notifications, and the relentless pull of mass distraction, it’s nearly impossible to hear our own deepest truth. The mind yells while the soul whispers, right?

Yet when we withdraw for a while—into the wilderness, into solitude—we start to understand the subtle signals that guide us toward what matters most. Stillness clears the static so the most honest message can get through.

The second lesson: walking breeds creativity.

Almost every day, I wandered the vineyard paths or explored the hills beyond. I’ve been a nature walker for 30+ years. It’s changed my life. And saved it too.

Poets, playwrights, and philosophers have long known what science now proves—that walking, especially in nature, is one of the surest ways to renew the mind and spark new ideas.

Many of the insights I recorded in my notebook came to me mid-step, in the quiet rhythm of movement, in a way they never could have at my desk. Walking is not only a way to recover—it’s a way to create.

The third insight: the value of rich conversation.

Along the way, I met many wonderful people—locals, travellers, fellow wanderers—and our conversations often went deep, fast. Please remember that every human being we meet has a story to tell and a lesson to teach. If we have the ears to open ourselves to them.

Our chats weren’t about the weather or the wars, or the economy and the environment. No dear FIRSTNAME, they were about the things that light me up. And breathe life into my soul. Subjects such as art, creativity, health and happiness, purpose, and possibility. And making our world a better place to be.

I left more than one dinner table with a new perspective, a new story, a new idea. All it takes is one idea, from one good conversation, to change the course of a life.

As I return to the familiar rhythms of work and travel and my usual life, I carry these lessons with me: to seek stillness, to walk more often, and to keep finding (and having) conversations that matter.

My humble hope is that, in sharing them with you, they spark something that serves you well in the season ahead.