The Strength Is In the Weave

The Strength Is In the Weave

A single strand of harakeke snaps easily. Anyone who's tried it knows that. On its own, it was never built to hold much weight.

Woven together, it becomes something else entirely. A kete strong enough to carry what matters. A whāriki that holds a whole room. I've watched harakeke woven a few times over the years, and had a go at it myself, alongside people who taught me to see it properly, and one thing has always stayed with me: the strength was never in any single strand. It was always in the weaving.

That's what a good Professional Learning Group actually is. And it's what sits underneath everything I do: teaching leaders to have the conversations that matter.

This isn't a room to be fixed in. It's a room to learn in. Leaders teaching leaders. New ideas brought in and tested against real experience, through real conversation. A deliberate weaving together of people, each one bringing something the others don't have, made stronger by being woven with others.

The research backs up what the weaving already knows. Johann Hari's work on connection found that genuine connection with others is one of the most powerful things that helps people actually thrive, not merely survive. Not proximity. Not simply being in a room with other people. The real, woven-in kind, where the conversations go deeper because you're known, and you know others in return.

A strand held alone can hold itself up for a while. Woven together, it holds a great deal more, and holds it for a great deal longer.

That's the part genuinely worth celebrating about a room like this.

The bonds that form between leaders who finally don't have to explain the context before they say the real thing. The mindsets that get gently challenged, not because anyone's being difficult, but because a good weave only holds its shape when different strands cross and test each other. The conversations that surface in a room like that, the kind that never quite makes it into a one-to-one, because it needs more than one other strand to bring it out.

A few things worth sitting with:

Who are the strands I'm currently woven with, and how is that serving my learning?

What conversation have I been missing out on by holding this alone?

What would it feel like to be part of something built to hold more than I can hold by myself?

If you're ready to be woven into a room like that, the Leaders PLG is built to be exactly this. Whether it's 1:1 coaching or being part of a 2027 PLG group, my calendar is open for 2027 and I'd love to talk it through with you. You can find out more here: momentumlearning.ac.nz/conversations-for-leaders

Arohanui
Mary-Anne 😊 

From Doing It For Them To Helping Them Do It

From Doing It For Them To Helping Them Do It

You know the moment. Someone brings you a problem, and it's genuinely faster for you to just solve it than to walk them through solving it themselves.

So you do. Every time. Because it's kind, and it's fast, and it feels like leadership.

One of the biggest shifts I see leaders make isn't about working harder. It's about moving from doing the work for people to building their capability to do it themselves.

Solving it for someone feels like leadership. Building their capacity to solve it themselves actually is.

The hard part is that enabling someone takes longer in the moment than just fixing it yourself. But every time you hand the thinking back, you're building someone who needs you a little less next time, which is the entire point.

A few questions worth trying next time someone brings you a problem:

"What do you think the first step could be?" Puts the thinking back where it belongs before you've had a chance to take it over.

"What's already worked for you in a similar situation?" Reminds them they usually already have more of the answer than they think.

"What would you try if you knew I'd back whatever you decided?" Removes the fear of getting it wrong, which is often the real thing stopping them from trying.

Where this week could you ask instead of answer?

Have a great week
Mary-Anne 😊

Switched On, Not Connected

Switched On, Not Connected 

We've been trying to get our sound system properly connected lately. Turntable, soundbar, phone, all of it meant to work together, and half the time it doesn't. Turn one thing on, and something else drops out. Everything's technically switched on, and none of it's actually talking to each other yet.

You have to go slowly. Check each connection before you turn the volume up. Skip that step and you get noise, or silence, or half the sound missing, and you can spend ages trying to fix a problem that was never really about the speakers at all.

Conversations work the same way. You can be technically switched on, present, nodding along, and still not actually be connected to what the other person is saying. Especially when part of you is already forming your answer before they've finished.

Responding fast can feel like being helpful. Getting properly connected first actually is.

It's harder on a full day, when there's no spare minute to give. But answer before you're actually connected, and you end up responding to a signal that never quite came through properly, then wondering later why the whole thing didn't land.

A few things worth checking before you turn the volume up:

"Am I actually connected to what they're saying, or just switched on?"

"What assumption am I making right now that I haven't actually checked?"

"Am I listening to understand, or am I listening to respond?"

Next time someone's telling you something that matters, what would it look like to get properly connected before you say a word?

Get connected this week
Mary-Anne 😊

Before Everyone Leaves the Room

Before Everyone Leaves the Room

You know that feeling at the end of a great meeting? Everyone’s nodding, the energy is high, and you walk out thinking, “Awesome, we’ve actually got a plan.”

Then two weeks pass, and somehow, half of it hasn't happened.

It’s easy to wonder what went wrong, but the truth is simple: the "yes" in the room was completely real. What changed was everything that happened after everyone left.

We’ve all been on both sides of this. You leave a session fully planning to get to work. But then you open your laptop, dive into your inbox, and reality hits. Your calendar is packed, three urgent things land on your desk, and suddenly that new idea is competing with twenty other things you were already trying to juggle.

Saying "yes" in the moment is easy because we all want to be helpful and move things forward. But the actual crunch happens later (alone at your desk), where it's a lot harder to adjust the plan.

The gap between agreeing to something and actually doing it isn't about bad intentions: it's just real life getting in the way. When we don't make space at the end of a meeting to talk about how it actually fits into the day-to-day, the practical challenges stay hidden.

The good news? You can create that space before anyone even stands up to leave.

If you're running the meeting, you can invite the real picture. And if you're the one sitting at the table nodding while secretly wondering how on earth you're going to fit this in, you have full permission to speak up.

Here are a few ways to bring real life into the room before everyone scatters:

1. Talk about priorities

• If you’re running the meeting: “To make room for this, is there anything on our current list we should shift or hold off on?”
  Doing something new takes focus away from something else. Talking about priorities upfront keeps people from quietly feeling overwhelmed later.

• If you’re sitting in the chair: “I’m excited to take this on! Where would you like me to place this alongside my current priorities?”

2. Check the timing together

• If you’re running the meeting: “On a scale of 1 to 10, how comfortable do we feel with this timeline alongside current workloads?”
  This lets people give honest input without feeling like they're killing the momentum. A lower number isn't a problem: it just gives you a chance to adjust together.

• If you’re sitting in the chair: “I want to make sure we set this up for success. Can we double-check the timeline so we have enough runway to do it right?”

3. Clear the path

• If you’re running the meeting: “What’s one thing I can help smooth out or clear away to make this easier for you?”
  This turns you into a true partner who's actively backing them up.

• If you’re sitting in the chair: “I’m ready to run with this! To get started, I’ll just need a quick intro to [Person] or approval on [Thing].”

None of these guarantee things will go perfectly: busy weeks happen. But they do make it a lot easier for everyone to be open about what’s actually doable while you're still sitting in the room together.

Next time a meeting wraps up and everyone’s nodding, what’s one thing you could say before everyone leaves?

Have a great week!
Mary-Anne

The Stumble, the Stretch, the Safety

My two dearest friends came to stay with us, having just completed ten weeks of total immersion learning te reo Māori.

They knew my whare is a place of inclusion. A place where you can bring your whole self, and feel safe to do so. I had sat alongside them on the marae many times, through joyous times and sad ones. Although not blood, we are sisters of another kind.

We greeted each other in te reo at the door. The kōrero started flowing, fluent and easy, weaving me in as they went. I followed the shape of it, picking out words and phrases and the little gestures they used to keep me included. I loved listening to them like that.

They told me what made those ten weeks work. How the environment held them. How it was safe to speak, safe to get it wrong, safe to be gently corrected and try again.

Something in me sat up. Do I? Don't I?

I knew if there was ever a room where trying wouldn't cost me anything, this was it. So I tried. A few words. A timid phrase or two.

I got things wrong. I felt the old urge to retreat, to go quiet and let them carry the conversation without me. But they didn't let me disappear. They just kept going, responded to what I said, guided me without making it a lesson. It was a conversation, not a correction.

Three things were happening at once that night, and I think they're the same three things behind every real bit of growth.

There was the safety. Ako and whanaungatanga, two words I've long carried close. The relationship where teacher and learner take turns holding the knowledge. The bonds between people that carry it. It wasn't a lesson at my table. It was just us, the same as we've always been together, and the learning slipped in alongside everything else.

There was the stretch. The words and phrases I tried sat just slightly beyond what felt easy, never so far beyond that I froze completely. That's the exact edge where real growth happens, not so easy we're bored, not so hard we shut down.

And there was the stumble. Getting it wrong, out loud, in front of people who mattered to me. That's the uncomfortable bit, the bit most of us spend our whole lives avoiding. But it's also the only way in. You can't get the safety or the stretch without risking the stumble too.

Hold all three at once, safety, stretch, stumble, and that's exactly what real growth looks like. Not just for learning a language. For the hard conversation, the new skill, the creative risk, the leadership moment you haven't stepped into yet.

That's the room I want to build for the people I work with too. Not a lesson. A relationship where it's safe to stumble, safe to stretch, and safe to try again anyway.

Who's holding that kind of space for you? Or who could you be holding it for?

Arohanui
Mary-Anne 😊