The Season When Nothing Moves

“When did it change?” You ask yourself opening your inbox for the first time in the morning. You notice a tense anticipation in your body, almost as if you were moving a rock in the far corner of the garden, not knowing what’s hiding under it.

You hope there is nothing, but you know there will be something.

It wasn’t this way not so long ago. But… how long? Months? Years? When did you feel excited, calm, sure? Not sometimes, but most of the time?

Maybe you read some of the emails on your phone, before you work day even starts. With your morning coffee, or even in bed, before you get up. To be prepared for whatever comes. To gear up.

When the last reorgs happened, you told yourself that it’s a phase. You have gone through it before, you know the drill. But the next change came, too quickly, and then the next one.

So it started feeling less like a phase, and more like a never-ending story. And such a thought is really heavy to carry.

You find the email you’ve been waiting for but shortly after opening it you let out a frustrated sigh. Not what you were hoping for. Again, no progress, vague information, suggestion to wait. There is another freeze.

It’s painful. You’re not used to stagnation. Waiting is not your thing. Maybe you even learned in the past that if not pushed, things fall apart. So your natural response to a difficult situation is – act.

Still in your pyjamas, you put back your coffee cup on the kitchen counter - you need both hands for what you intend to do - then sit down and click “Reply”. You move your shoulders, like a boxer ready to throw his first punch…

Sounds familiar?

You know how it goes from there. Not once, not twice have you been on either side of the email exchange.

But this time, instead of sending and angry email or a pushy email, or any email, you look outside the window, and notice how windy it still is. The clouds are racing, but the light has already changed. It’s warmer now.

Your eyes return to the screen.

Even if it feels like ages, it’s a phase. A season.

You grab that thought. Don’t let it escape. There is something in it that can change a lot.

You look outside the window again. Bare trees in the wind. They are not dead. It’s just not the season for leaves.

And then you have it. The different question to ask.

Not: Why is nothing moving?

But: What is this season actually for?

Many high-achievers struggle with dead seasons. They are used to making things move and stagnation creates discomfort. Often even rest feels like a wasted time.

They're used to pushing when something stalls, solving when something breaks and acting when uncertainty appears.

That’s how they built their reputation in the first place.

So when progress slows down, the instinct is immediate: push harder.

Send the email, remind, find another lever to pull, do it themselves instead of waiting for someone else.

But some phases are not designed for acceleration. They are designed for repositioning.

The problem is that from the inside they rarely look that way. They look like stagnation, wasted time, like something that should be fixed. That's when FOMO kicks in.

You know FOMO, yes? Fear Of Missing Out. Missing the opportunity, oversleep your chance.

And if you are someone who prides themselves on being effective, that feeling is almost unbearable.

Yet many of the most important shifts happen exactly in these quieter seasons.

When external movement slows down, internal clarity has a chance to catch up.

The question changes.

Not: “How do I make this move faster?”

But: “What is this moment trying to show me?”

About the system, the direction, about myself.

Sometimes the real work of leadership is not pushing the next decision forward and constant action.

It is allowing the season to reveal what the next decision should actually be.

The trees outside your window know this rhythm well. They know the season has its purpose.

Maybe the real question in moments like this is not how quickly things will start moving again, but what kind of clarity might become visible if you stop trying to force movement for a moment.

Sometimes the most powerful move is simply to pause long enough to see the season for what it is.

And ask the question again.

What is this season actually for?