Everybody thrives.
We build organizations where everyone actually thrives, not just survives.
Most organizations treat collective wellbeing as a nice-to-have bonus that comes after everything else. We think that's backwards. When you design systems where mutual flourishing is the foundation, better outcomes follow naturally for everyone involved.
| people | 7,800,000,000 |
| continents | 7 |
| countries | 195 |
| languages | 8,000 |
| cities | 10,000 |
| airports | 3,500 |
| space programs | 90 |
| dollars | 1,200,000,000,000,000 |
| planet | 1 |
This is the central question. Not "how do I win?" or "how do we succeed?" but "how does everyone flourish?" It's audacious. It requires us to expand our circle of concern beyond ourselves, our team, our organization. It asks us to hold space for the full complexity of a situation and trust that there are solutions where no one has to lose for someone else to win. When we ask this sincerely, again and again, it changes what becomes possible.
What if, instead of rigid plans, fixed goals, or static principles, we oriented around living questions?
Koans that invite us to stay present, curious, and responsive to what each moment requires. These aren't rules to follow. They're questions to live with. Questions that help us create conditions where everyone involved can genuinely thrive.
So much suffering comes from assumptions. We think we know what someone needs, what they mean, what they want. We act on guesses and wonder why things go wrong. What if we simply asked? What if we built a practice of genuine curiosity, of checking our assumptions, of seeking to understand before we act? What becomes possible when we replace certainty with inquiry?
We're conditioned to focus on what's broken, what's missing, what's wrong. But transformation happens through recognition of what's working. When we celebrate progress—even small steps—we reinforce the positive, build momentum, and remind ourselves and others that change is actually happening. How might our work shift if we intentionally practiced noticing and honoring forward movement?
Half-commitment creates half-results. When we hedge, hold back, keep one foot out the door, we limit what's possible. Being all in doesn't mean recklessness—it means full presence, full engagement with what we've chosen. It means bringing our whole selves. What are we protecting by staying half in? What might we discover if we went all in?
When things go wrong, the impulse is to assign blame, to panic, to complain. But what if we treated every challenge as a hurdle, not a brick wall? What if we focused our energy on proposing actionable steps rather than dwelling on what went wrong? Owning the challenge means taking responsibility not for the problem, but for being part of the solution. What becomes possible when we shift from blame to agency?
Courage isn't the absence of fear. It's acting in alignment with what matters despite the fear. In any given moment, there's a courageous choice available—the harder conversation, the vulnerable admission, the bold ask, the uncomfortable truth. This question invites us to locate that choice and consider taking it. Not because we must, but because courage often leads us toward what's most alive and most real.
Sometimes we're so focused on our agenda, our plan, our desired outcome that we miss what's actually trying to emerge. There's an intelligence in systems, in groups, in moments—a natural movement toward what needs to happen next. This question invites us to pause, to listen, to sense what's alive in the present rather than imposing our will on it. What if we trusted that there's a "next right thing" available, if we're willing to perceive it?
Organizations, systems, processes—they can feel abstract, mechanical, impersonal. But at the base of everything, it's just humans. Humans with fears, hopes, needs, struggles. When we remember this, when we look for the humanity in any situation, solutions shift. Empathy becomes possible. Connection becomes possible. The question reminds us that we're never dealing with abstractions—we're always dealing with people. And people respond to being seen and treated as human.