Two Languages, One Compass
A storyline of how I became the kind of leadership guide I am -
I’ve always been drawn to what’s real.
Not in an abstract way. In the way you can feel it in a room. In the way the body knows when something is true, and also when something is performed. In the way a system can look fine on paper while people are quietly disappearing inside it.
Over time, that pull became my path. And eventually, it became my work.
I Learned to Speak Two Languages
One language is the language of systems.
Organizations. Teams. Power. Politics. Strategy. Group dynamics. The way structures shape behavior. The way “culture” is never just culture, but an ecosystem of incentives, fears, loyalties, and unspoken agreements.
The other language is the language of soul.
The symbolic realm. Myth. Inner parts. Sacred longing. The unseen forces that move us. The moments where someone’s eyes change because they’ve just met themselves, and can’t go back to pretending.
For years, I moved between those two languages, sometimes in the same conversation. I learned to translate without diluting. To bring the human truth into the system conversation, and to bring consequence into the soul conversation.
Because in my experience, leadership fails in predictable ways when either of those languages disappears.
When systems forget soul, people become instruments.
When soul forgets systems, people become sincere but ineffective.
My work lives where those two meet.
Integrity Became My Axis
One of the simplest definitions of integrity I’ve ever heard is: “A tree is a tree.”
Its treeness isn’t a performance. It doesn’t negotiate its nature to belong. It grows from roots, through seasons, in coherence.
That image has stayed with me because it strips integrity of drama. Integrity isn’t perfection. It isn’t moral superiority. It’s inner and outer matching. It’s coherence.
And once you start living that way, you start seeing how often we compromise what matters most out of existential fear. Not because we are bad people. Because we are human. Because belonging is powerful. Because it’s easier to keep the peace than to tell the truth.
But compromise has a cost.
When I betray my own knowing, I feel it in my body first. A heaviness. A dulling. A subtle self-abandonment. Sometimes it looks like over-functioning. Sometimes it looks like “being understanding” while quietly disappearing. Sometimes it looks like staying agreeable when my integrity is asking for clarity.
So over time, integrity became my compass. Not as a concept, but as a living practice: returning, again and again, to what is true in me and what is needed in the moment.
I Trained in the Craft of Holding Space
This part matters to me most.
Because a lot of leadership work becomes either too soft or too sharp.
Too soft: endlessly kind, endlessly understanding, and nothing changes.
Too sharp: highly effective, highly decisive, and people shut down or perform.
What I’ve had to learn, and keep learning, is something else.
To be warm and exact.
To love without rescuing.
To mirror without shaming.
To set boundaries that protect life, not ego.
Holding space is not passive. It’s an active stance of truth.
It means I can be deeply compassionate and still refuse to collude with self-betrayal. It means I can honor someone’s fear without letting fear be the decision-maker. It means I can stay with complexity without losing my spine.
This is where I’ve found my real authority: not in being right, but in being congruent. In staying present when the room wants to escape into blame, righteousness, or avoidance. In helping people see what is actually happening between us, within us, and around us.
Frameworks Came Later, and Only Because They Were Needed
People sometimes ask me about models, tools, methodologies.
Yes, I have them. I love good maps. I work with lenses that help leaders see reality more clearly: context and timing, the deep interplay between inner patterns and outer structures, and the hidden politics that shape what gets said—and what stays silent.
But my frameworks were never the point.
They emerged because I needed language for what I kept witnessing. Patterns repeating across industries and cultures. The same human dynamics wearing different outfits. The same moments where truth wants to enter a conversation and people flinch.
A good framework doesn’t replace wisdom. It helps us stop lying to ourselves.
The Deeper Storyline: Coherence
When I look back, the thread is simple:
I keep returning to coherence.
To the moment where a person feels their own truth again.
To the moment where a team stops outsourcing responsibility and starts owning what they’re creating together.
To the moment where power shifts from “over” or “under” into something cleaner: power with, power as service, power as life-force flowing through what’s aligned.
And on a personal level, coherence has also asked me to become more honest with myself. Not only about my strength, but about my attachment, my longing, my vulnerability. About where I want warmth, where I want love, where I want to create “temples” of belonging for the people I adore.
Even my recovery work with food belongs to the same storyline: truth made practical. Love made practical. A devotion that happens one day at a time, in the ordinary places where we either abandon ourselves or come home.
What I’m Here For
I’m here for leadership that does not require self-betrayal.
Leadership that can hold paradox without collapsing into cynicism.
Leadership that is spiritually intelligent and structurally awake.
Leadership that tells the truth, not to be harsh, but to be free.
If any of this resonates, I’d love to ask you a simple question:
Where are you being asked to become more coherent right now?
Not more perfect. Not more impressive. Just more you.
About the Author
Lead True Global Leader Andrea Henning’s vision is that when people discover their authenticity and dare to follow their bliss they are happier and more successful in their lives while serving as an inspiration to their communities.
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