True Freedom: The Courage to Let Things Die

I met my client in the redwoods of the Oakland Hills. For our meetings, we hike together — moving through quiet trails, letting the rhythm of walking open the rhythm of conversation.

I’ve had the great honor of working with him off and on for over ten years. In that time, he’s left the tech world, built his own business, and grown into a leader who trusts himself completely.

Today, as we walked beneath the trees, he shared a story about negotiating a lease for a new store in a Santa Clara development. When the numbers didn’t align, he walked away.

The way he said it caught my attention. Calm. Clear. No drama. His voice didn’t tighten, his stride didn’t change — it was as if he’d set down a heavy pack and kept walking.

It was here that my curiosity kicked in. I could feel something deeper moving under his words — something alive. It was like catching a scent on the wind. I wanted to follow it. I asked if I could stay with him in this moment, ask more questions, and explore what he was doing.

As we explored, he admitted there was disappointment about losing the location. But it had already passed through him, like fog burning off in the morning sun.

It was when I saw he could be disappointed that I realized he wasn’t afraid to let things go. To let things die.

What struck me was that I could see it — and it was electric. I could name what he was doing unconsciously, and suddenly, he could see it too. He could savor it. Live it more fully. Share it with others.

I don’t even know why it matters to me that he saw it — maybe because I wanted to see it. To stand right in the middle of that kind of freedom. It’s fucking powerful.

This man is willing to let anything die — a deal, a vision, a plan — if it’s not aligned. He trusts he can rebuild. He trusts himself in life. Fear doesn’t grip him — love and alignment lead him.

And when he saw it, when he became conscious of it, his whole body seemed to breathe deeper. The air in the redwoods felt charged — as if life itself had stepped closer, nothing held back.

This is what I love most about my work: walking beside someone until they hear the truth pulsing underneath their own words — the truth that makes them trust themselves enough to live full-on, without flinching from life.

Because of that, he moves with courage.
Because of that, he is free.

When I asked him how he came to see life this way, he reminded me of something I once told him: You could lose everything in a day.

I know this is true. I lost my father when I was two. I lost my husband five years ago. Life is, by its nature, impermanent.

As Brad Burnham, a wise counselor, once said to me: Knowing death makes us know life.

This is the beauty of deep coaching — listening until the deeper truth emerges, the one that changes how you meet life itself.

If you’re ready to lead, create, or live with this kind of trust and alignment, let’s have a conversation.
Schedule a call with me