Standing at the Water’s Edge

A few days ago, I found myself on the windswept promenade at Newbiggin-by-the-Sea, staring out at that rather striking sculpture of a couple looking towards the horizon. If you know it, you’ll know it’s hard to forget.

Two ordinary people, cast in bronze, positioned out at sea as if they’re contemplating the great beyond. There’s another version of them on the promenade too, slightly smaller, watching their larger selves out on the breakwater.

It’s public art, yes, but like all good art, it’s a bit of a mirror.And on this particular morning, it spoke straight to the part of me that works with leaders who are trying to navigate their own vast, unpredictable oceans.

The artist, Sean Henry, created Couple as part of Newbiggin’s regeneration in 2007 – a statement of looking outward, imagining what’s possible, refusing to shrink back into the past. But what fascinated me wasn’t just the sculptures themselves… it was the space between them.

The land.The sea.The known.The unknown.The everyday self… and the emerging self waiting offshore.

And I thought, Ah, there it is. That’s leadership.

Leadership always begins on the shoreline

Most leaders I work with arrive somewhere on that promenade. They’re standing on solid ground — roles they know, patterns they’ve mastered, expectations they’ve been shaped by. They look competent, organised, composed. The land-self.

But somewhere in the distance is the sea-self.The version of them that’s bigger, bolder, more honest, more connected, more present. The one they glimpse in quiet moments but rarely give themselves permission to step towards.

And between the two is the tide — change, pressure, complexity, emotion, human messiness, stakeholders, restructures, difficult conversations, old stories, inner critics, the whole blooming lot.

This is why leadership feels so exhausting at times. You’re not just doing a job. You’re walking that line between who you are and who you could be. Between safety and possibility. Between belonging and becoming.

The sculpture reminded me why my work matters

When I sit with a leader or a team, whether in a coaching room or on a retreat hillside, my role is simple:

I help people walk towards the water — gently, courageously, and with their whole bodies awake.

Sometimes that means:

• Bringing awareness to the emotional tides they’ve been ignoring.

• Helping them notice the wisdom of their breath, posture and energy.

• Interrupting old mindsets that keep them small.

• Inviting them to step beyond the “perfect leader” persona and into something more human, more grounded and more powerful.

• Helping them see the version of themselves that’s been waiting offshore.

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I draw on the East — stillness, presence, breath, energy, intuition.And I draw on the West — psychology, behavioural insights, group dynamics, narrative work.And I weave them together because leaders need both. The contemplative and the practical. The inner and the outer.

The land and the sea.

My work isn’t about fixing people. It’s about helping them see.

Just like that couple, staring out beyond the breakwater.

A question worth contemplating

As I stood there in the cool Northumberland wind, I asked myself the same questions I ask the leaders I coach:

• What version of me is standing offshore, quietly calling my name?

• What do I long to step towards?

• Where am I still playing small, staying safely on land?

• What does my body know that my head keeps talking over?

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And maybe those questions are for you as well.

Because leadership is less about “How do I perform?” and more about“Which horizon am I willing to walk towards?”

If this resonates…

This sculpture has become a quiet metaphor for how I walk alongside leaders — helping them tune into their inner landscape, trust the signals of the body, soften the resistance to change, and take courageous steps towards their deeper purpose.

Which ever route you choose to engage with me, 1:1, Team Coachng; Group Coaching; Coaching Circles, the work is always the same at its core:

Helping leaders stand at the edge, breathe deeply, and move towards the life and leadership they’re actually meant for.

And if you’d like support as you navigate your own shoreline — well, that’s what I’m here for.