Lately the most interesting conversations I’m having aren’t about marketing, scaling, or growth. They’re about coherence.
I’m meeting founders, authors, and leaders who are building things that are working. The businesses are solid. The audiences are growing. Opportunities keep showing up.
And yet somewhere in the middle of all that progress, a quieter question appears. Not “How do I grow this?” But “What exactly am I building?”
Part of what makes this moment interesting is that more people are starting to care about meaning again.
Not in some grand philosophical sense. In a practical one.
For a long time the dominant question in business was simple. GROWTH. How fast can this scale? How big can this get? How efficiently can it be optimized?
That mindset built a lot of impressive companies.
It also produced a lot of noise.
Lately, though, I’m hearing a different kind of question in conversations with people who have already achieved some version of success.
They’re not asking how to get bigger.
They’re asking whether what they’re building actually means something.
Because once the initial chase for traction quiets down, a new realization tends to appear.
You can scale something that doesn’t matter.
You can optimize something that doesn’t hold together.
You can even become known for something that isn’t the thing you actually care about.
That’s where meaning enters the picture.
Meaning is what anchors the work when everything else starts moving faster. And in a world where ideas travel instantly, that anchor matters more than ever.
Because the moment an idea gains momentum, something else happens alongside it.
Interpretation.
People encounter your work in fragments.
- A podcast clip.
- A LinkedIn post.
- A keynote.
- A company you founded.
- A community you’re building.
Each fragment becomes a window into the work.
But fragments also invite assumptions.
Someone encountering the wealth side of the work might think you’re a financial strategist.
Someone encountering the philosophical side might assume you’re a thought leader.
Someone hearing the creative side might think you’re an artist.
None of those interpretations are necessarily wrong.
But they are incomplete.
And when incomplete interpretations multiply, something subtle begins to happen.
The meaning of the work starts drifting. Truth doesn’t spread on its own. It has to be carried carefully. Not guarded in a defensive way. Stewarded.
Because the world will happily simplify what you’re building if you don’t remain intentional about what it actually means.
That’s the hidden tension that shows up when powerful ideas begin expressing themselves through multiple arenas.
The more successful the work becomes, the more interpretations it generates.
Which brings us back to the question that started appearing in those conversations.
Not “How do I grow this?”
But “How do I keep the truth of what I’m building intact?”
Success multiplies visibility.
Visibility multiplies interpretation.
And interpretation has a funny way of reshaping the story people tell themselves about what you do.
That’s why the most interesting leaders I know eventually stop asking, “How do I grow this?”
They start asking a different question.
“How do I protect the truth of what I’m building?”
Because when the work matters, growth isn’t the only thing at stake.
Meaning is.
Because when the work matters, growth isn’t the only thing at stake. Meaning is.
And once meaning enters the picture, another realization tends to follow.