Michelle R. Hess

Did you know that, in medieval Edinburgh, leaving through the city gate cost money to get back in? Many poor families couldn't afford it, so they simply never left. The ground just inside that gate earned a name: The World's End. An entire world lay at their feet, and they called the edge of their walls the end of it. It left me with a question I can't shake:

How many invisible walls are still standing long after the physical ones came down?

I know some of mine. I grew up poor, and college could have been one of those things that was for other people. I went anyway. When I first joined council, I was the only woman at the table. I could have stayed quiet. I didn't. Then I lost my re-election. If I'm being honest, that loss caused me to shrink back. Sometimes it still does. But I'm pushing past it.

Those families weren't stuck because the gate was locked. They were stuck because leaving cost something. Our walls work the same way. We do the math, decide the toll is too high, and settle in. But we rarely count the cost of staying: the conversations we never had, the opportunities we talked ourselves out of. That's the toll nobody puts on the sign. As Mike Foster says, "What we fail to investigate will perpetuate."

So this week, ask yourself:
How do I make myself small?
Where do I play it safe?
What story am I telling myself about why I can't?
What's one step past the gate?
Where's your World's End?

Stepping past it might cost more than you'd like. But it will cost you less than staying.

One of the things I love most about my work is that no two weeks look quite the same.

Last week, somewhere between leadership, strategy and meetings, I found myself in a studio helping a friend with background vocals and harmonies on a track.

My background in music has always been a different kind of leadership training.

Music engages multiple systems in the brain at once, asking us to listen, anticipate, adapt, remember and respond. And harmony adds another layer: you have to know your own part while listening closely enough to understand how it fits with everyone else.

There’s a leadership lesson in that.
Strong leadership isn’t always about being the loudest voice or carrying the melody. Sometimes it’s knowing when to lead, when to listen, when to adjust and when your job is to make someone else sound even better.

I love that my day-to-day keeps giving me opportunities to use different muscles.

Thanks, Tanja, for inviting me into your project and trusting me with a little piece of it. It was a fun reminder that leadership lessons really do show up everywhere.

"Nothing beats a failure but a try."

That's a lesson Col. Dick Tolliver's mother drilled into him before he ever knew what a P-38 was. Before Tuskegee. Before he became one of the first five African American pilots to fly the F-4. Before 446 combat missions.

On this special edition of The Briefing Room, Col. Tolliver shares his journey from the pre-Civil Rights South to the cockpit to who he is today, and the moment mid-air that changed the trajectory of his entire life.

It's a masterclass in resilience, faith, and what it really means to lead.

New episode is live now. 🎧 https://youtu.be/CG_R8SHmU6k

www.youtube.com

25 years ago today.
I remember exactly where I was. The shock. The silence in the skies that followed for days. And then watching people run toward danger instead of away from it. First responders going into buildings that were falling. Neighbors helping neighbors on the street.
That day changed something for my family too. Watching those men and women run in when everyone else ran out, that stayed with us. It’s part of why the fire service became something we were called to. Today I’m thinking about that spirit. Not just the loss, but how we showed up for each other. Strangers becoming neighbors overnight. That’s leadership that doesn’t wait for a title. It just runs toward what needs doing.
We carry that with us today. 🇺🇸

I joined Flinn-Brown just over 13 years ago, with the vision of making a quicker and greater impact in the City of Buckeye, the region, and beyond. I'm so grateful for the relationships that have lasted over the years. It's incredible to walk alongside so many civic-minded friends all trying to make an impact in our state. We may not always agree on the method, but the focus on improving our state is a powerful mission. Getting in the room each year with over 300 like-minded people reminds you that you don't have to do this alone.

The Power of the Pause

The concept of waiting is hard. Especially through the lens of leadership.

There's a pull to prove competency, make quick decisions to feel confident, or meet or exceed every deadline. Either way, this can be a trap. Some of that pressure is manufactured. Some deadlines aren't as real as they feel. And sometimes we prove our competence best by taking a little longer to decide.

There is power in the pause.

I don't think many people would argue that we're living in a constant state of hurry. Projects, opportunities, packed schedules, they're putting pressure on leaders like I haven't seen before. We're stretched thin.

In times like these, we must do the opposite of what feels intuitive. Instead of checking off more things, closing the next deal, pushing the next project forward, we need to pause. We set the tone in boardrooms, in brainstorming sessions, on our own calendars. And too often, we forget that power.

I've been strategically adding pauses back into my schedule to create space. Before I did, I noticed my creativity had gone flat. I was in checklist mode, running through the day with half my brain shut off, just making sure every box got checked and every meeting got attended.

That drop in creativity, that missing excitement for projects I usually love, was the signal I needed. I paid attention. I made a change. I added pauses.

Those pauses let both sides of my brain re-engage. That's what opens up more creativity, a better perspective from a little distance, and an extra beat to confirm I'm not just making a decision, but making the right decision on the actual problem in front of me.

Because when we're rushed, the danger isn't just burnout. It's creating extra work, missing a crucial detail, missing a new angle entirely, or confidently solving the wrong problem.

It's time to take back that time to think. Add a pause back into your schedule.

Your next step
Pick one recurring meeting or decision point this week, just one, and build in a five-minute pause before you walk in or hit send. Use it to ask: Is this deadline real, or assumed? Am I solving the right problem? Notice what shifts. That's where courageous momentum starts.

Some of the most important things we build today are for generations we may never meet.

It was special to celebrate the ribbon cutting of the new Troy Gilbert Elementary School and hear from Major Troy Gilbert’s family about his legacy and the values he lived by: selflessness, service, sacrifice, love, compassion, loyalty, and integrity.

This school was envisioned nearly 20 years ago, and today students are walking through its doors. What a reminder that leadership and community building require us to think beyond today, investing in a future whose impact we may never fully see.

Legacy is built long before we see the results.

Reunion energy at the AZ Impact Conference 💛 These Leadership West alumni and Flinn Fellows are out here changing and supporting Arizona.

What does it actually take to become the best in your field? Not just good. Not just recognized. Genuinely the best.
And why do we stop short?
Take a moment to read my latest blog post on this topic up now at www.michellerhess.com