I know the work. I teach the work. And last week, I was standing in my own gap without seeing it. Here's what happened.
I felt it coming back last week.
The pattern I know too well. The one I thought I’d moved past.
I was less quick to talk to people. Found myself avoiding conversations. Stopped being curious about what they were actually saying.
Not angry. Not stressed. Just… closed.
That’s my gap. The one that shows up when I lose my curiosity and close down.
I know the work. I teach the work. I’ve been doing this for two months full-time, six years if you count the whole journey.
And there I was. Standing in it again.
The Question That Wouldn't Leave
I could feel my game. Frontier Pioneer. Making gaps visible. Building through curiosity.
It’s clear when I’m in it. The work feels alive. Conversations open up. People recognize something they couldn’t name before.
But something was nagging at me.
Since I saw the gap in the current help landscape — the space between therapy (processing what was) and coaching (moving toward what you want) — I’ve been focused on one thing: orientation. Direction. Compass.
That’s the missing category. The gap I’m pioneering.
But then the question hit: what if focusing on this one gap is creating more blind spots?
What if I’m so focused on direction that I’m missing everything else? What if I’m building a method that solves one problem and creates ten others I can’t see?
That’s when I started avoiding people. Not consciously. Just… less open. Less curious.
Because if I’m creating blind spots while claiming to make gaps visible, what am I actually doing?
You Can't Explore Every Land
I sat with that for a few days.
Turning it over. Testing it. Trying to think my way through it.
That’s always a bad sign. When I’m thinking instead of exploring, I’m usually stuck.
Then it hit me: you can’t explore every land.
If you try to see everything, you see nothing clearly. If you try to address every gap at once, you address none of them well.
Explorers don’t map the entire world simultaneously. They pick a territory. They go deep. They learn what’s actually there. Then they come back and share what they found.
That’s what I’m doing.
Not because direction is the only gap that matters. But because it’s the gap I can see. The territory I’m equipped to explore. The frontier that called to me.
Other gaps exist. Other territories need pioneers. But I can’t be in all of them at once.
And maybe, this is still unproven, still being tested, maybe direction is the organizing gap. At least for individuals. The compass that helps you navigate all the other gaps beneath it.
Direction As Organizing Principle
Here’s what I’m noticing, both in my own work and with the people I’m working with:
When you don’t know your direction, every gap feels equally urgent. Every problem feels like THE problem. You’re constantly pivoting, adjusting, trying to fix the thing that’s loudest right now.
But when you know your direction, the gaps organize themselves.
Some gaps matter because they’re blocking your path. Those need attention.
Some gaps are interesting but not yours to explore right now. Those can wait.
Some gaps aren’t gaps at all, they’re just noise from trying to be something you’re not.
Direction doesn’t eliminate other gaps. It gives you a compass to navigate them with.
That’s what I’m testing. Not as universal truth. As hypothesis. For individuals. As frontier work.
If direction is the organizing gap at the personal level, the one that helps you see and navigate all the others , then focusing on it isn’t creating blind spots. It’s creating the conditions where blind spots become visible.
When Direction Becomes Clear
I’ve seen this with someone I’m working with. Week 1, she couldn’t do her freelance work if a to-do list existed. Paralyzed by the tension between what she should do and what she wanted to do.
Week 7, she’s discovering her mission: creating safety so people can express themselves, bring their insights forward, connect the child in every adult to the world.
Now she’s asking: “Can I do this in the leadership job I just accepted?”
That’s not more confusion. That’s clarity. The question is sharp because the direction is becoming visible.
All her other gaps — the guilt, the permission-seeking, the fear of judgment, those are still there. But they’re organizing around a clearer question: does this align with my mission?
Direction doesn’t solve everything. But it makes everything else navigable.
I'm Still In It
I’m not writing this from the other side. I’m not standing here with the answer, telling you how I figured it out.
I’m in the gap right now.
Still testing whether direction is the organizing compass. Still noticing when I close down instead of stay curious. Still catching myself avoiding conversations because I’m uncertain.
That’s the work.
Not having it figured out. Not being past your gaps. But being willing to see them when they show up again.
The pattern I noticed last week, avoiding people, losing curiosity, that’s my signal. My body telling me I’m operating without something I need.
And the question that emerged “am I creating blind spots by focusing on one gap?” that wasn’t doubt trying to stop me. That was curiosity trying to refine the work.
What If Your One Gap Unlocks The Rest?
So here’s what I’m sitting with, and what I’m offering to you:
What if the gap you’re most afraid of, the one you keep circling back to, the one that feels too big or too specific or too uncertain, what if that’s not a distraction from all the other gaps?
What if it’s the organizing principle? At least for you, at the individual level.
Not because it’s the only gap that matters. But because it’s the one that helps you navigate all the others.
For me, that’s direction. Orientation. Compass.
For you, it might be something else. Permission. Boundaries. Voice. Safety. Play.
But I’m starting to believe, not as certainty, but as working hypothesis, that each of us might have one organizing gap. The gap that, when you explore it, makes all the other gaps visible and navigable.
You can’t explore every land. You can’t address every gap at once.
But maybe you don’t have to.
Maybe the gap you keep feeling, the one you keep coming back to, the one that feels both too big and exactly right, maybe that’s your territory.
Maybe focusing on it isn’t creating blind spots. Maybe it’s creating the compass you need to see them.
I’m still testing this. Still exploring. Still standing in my own gap and trying to stay curious instead of certain.
But that’s the work.
Not certainty. Exploration.
Not answers. Direction.
And when you have direction, all the choices become clearer.
Not easy. But clear.
