Leadership beyond the handbook

In my last post, I shared how I discovered "artificial co-intelligence"—not as a replacement for my own mind, but as a partner to help me find a voice I feared was lost behind a language barrier. Today, I want to take that a step further. I want to talk about where that voice comes from.

In the world of design and leadership, we often talk about two types of knowledge: Intellectual Understanding and Experiential Understanding. Intellectual understanding is what we get from books, podcasts, and lectures. It’s the "map." It tells us how a great leader should act or how a great designer should think. But Experiential understanding? That is the "territory." It’s the wisdom gained from being in the weeds, getting your hands dirty, and navigating the moments that no book can prepare you for.

When the Map Ends

As an ESL speaker, I have spent years worrying about my vocabulary. I often felt that if I didn't have an extensive repository of words, I couldn't truly lead or mentor. I looked to resources to find the "right" thing to say in difficult moments, searching for an intellectual solution to human challenges.

But a few years ago, I faced a situation where the map ended, and the books went silent.

When I was a Head of Design, our team suffered a sudden and devastating loss. A team member—a colleague and a dear friend—passed away. We were a close-knit team, and the grief was overwhelming.

Intellectually, I knew my role. I knew that as a leader, the work had to continue. I knew there were deadlines and responsibilities. But as a human, I knew that words like "productivity" or even "it’s going to be okay" were empty. There is no "perfect word" in English, or any other language, that can fix a tragedy.

Leading Through Presence

Instead of searching for a speech I didn't have the words for, I leaned into what I knew through experience: my team didn't need a manager; they needed a witness.

I remembered our friend’s favorite place—the beach. I didn’t give a presentation on grief or a lecture on resilience. I simply took the whole team to the sand. We sat there and watched the waves come in and go out. We didn't talk much. We didn't have to. We just shared the space, the water, and the memory of our friend.

That day wasn't about "leadership" in the way it’s taught in business schools. It was experiential. It was about knowing that sometimes, the most powerful thing a leader can do is stay silent and show compassion through action. That silence did more to strengthen our bond and help us move forward than a thousand "perfect" words ever could.

The Wisdom of the Weeds

This is the heart of true coaching and mentorship. An intellectual mentor can tell you the theory of how to be a great designer. But an experiential mentor shows you how to survive the reality of the craft.

If you are a leader, a teacher, or a mentor, don't be discouraged if you don't always have the "right" words. My struggle with English used to make me feel like I was missing a tool, but this journey has taught me that empathy doesn't require a complex vocabulary.

Books give you knowledge, but only your life gives you wisdom. Sometimes, the most professional thing you can do is put down the book, step away from the screen, and take your team to the beach.