Walking Through It: Reflections From Northumberland
A note from Liz, one month into launching Volante
It’s just over a month since I launched Volante, and I’ve been grateful for the support and the honest conversations that have followed. Many people have shared what’s quietly shifting for them: not dramatic change, but a sense that something in how they lead or work needs to evolve.
That made my recent week off feel especially timely. I spent it walking in a quiet corner of Northumberland near Hadrian’s Wall, staying with my parents and soaking up the rare gift of slow mornings, long walks, and gentle afternoons catching up on work.
That rhythm - stepping back, then easing in - gave me space to reflect. And I started to notice how the conversations I’ve been having echoed the landscape around me.
Clarity… until it isn’t
My dad always knows where he’s going. He charges ahead across fields, up hidden paths, fearlessly brushing past cows (which, surprisingly, are the UK’s most dangerous animal). He moves with quiet certainty even when the track disappears.
Meanwhile, I’m scanning the terrain:
Where’s the next stile? Is it about to get boggy? Will I end up ankle-deep in a cowpat?
But there’s something reassuring about that confidence. That belief in the path ahead.
It echoed something I’ve heard from a few people recently that there are moments where everything aligns: the strategy, the team, the purpose. And when that happens, momentum feels natural almost effortless and exciting.
And then something shifts.
You learn something new. The ground changes. The path squiggles.
You hesitate. You rethink. It gets messy. You question.
But eventually, the way sharpens again and you keep walking.
The irrational pause
Near my parent's house, there are a lot of cattle grids. I always hesitate at them.
Even when they’re solid. Even when they’re covered in moss and grass.
I stop. I picture slipping through. It’s never happened but my brain still goes there.
It reflected something I’ve been hearing a lot lately. Many leaders who aren’t facing crisis, still feel a subtle hesitation. Nothing is obviously wrong, but something’s unsettled. That quiet pause before deciding whether to keep going as before, or shift.
They’re not stuck. But they’re sensing a shift.
Sometimes it’s not about removing the fear.
It’s about recognising it and remembering you’ve crossed harder terrain before but it pays to be cautious and reflect.
Quiet crossings, subtle shifts
Towards the end of the week, we came across an unmanned railway crossing.
No lights. No barriers. Just a sign.
You stop, look both ways and then decide to cross.
I have talked to a few leaders recently who shared not that their organisation needs to change but that they do.
A quiet sense that it’s time to show up differently. To lead in a new way even if everything on the surface looks the same.
Some told me they had strengthened their teams and feel ready to let go even more. Others are returning from sabbatical and feel a shift is needed, and others are balancing new commitments beyond work and want to make a shift. Some are simply tired and want to make it all feel more sustainable.
There’s no clear signal for these moments.
Just a pause. A look in both directions. And a choice to move forward differently.
More and more, leaders are reaching out for a thought partner -
someone to reflect with, test ideas, and help shape a plan that works in real life, not just on paper.
If any of this resonates - please get in touch
This past week reminded me how small pauses can create space for big shifts.
A few people have reached out lately - not in crisis, but ready to lead differently. To reflect, adjust, and make a plan.
If you're sensing a shift of your own, I'm always happy to talk.
Warmly,
Liz
Founder, Volante
