TIQA: Wisdom from a dying cowboy, inner leadership, and the cost of comfort
“Depth. Clarity. Connection. In under 5 minutes, weekly.”
Here’s your weekly TIQA.
One Theme, one Insight, one Quote, and one Action — to help you show up more fully for yourself and those you love.
Take what’s useful. Chuck the rest.
The Theme
This week, a powerful thread wove through my sessions, my men’s group, and the final words of a dying man: our old structures of identity and safety are crumbling — and it’s time to let the heart lead.
At Scott’s House, where I volunteer at the bedside of the dying, I sat with an 91-year-old cowboy and former customs agent named Harlan. Once proud, strong, and “top dog” in a world that catered to white, straight, male power, his body now was frail, fasting for over two weeks.
I didn’t know how he’d respond to my presence — a man offering nurturing and care, roles traditionally held by women.
He looked at me and rasped, “A man who holds hands with another man is respectable in every regard.”
The hair stood up on the back of my neck. My whole body shivered and my eyes watered.
No armor. No posturing. No energy left for performance — just raw, unguarded-heart truth.
(Looking back, it was my own denied and projected shadow material — callousness, discrimination, bigotry and domination — that was being confronted and dissolved by his words.)
“You did a good job,” I told him. “You opened your heart — spiritually, emotionally, relationally.”
“I was selfish… too selfish,” he said. I took this in for a moment before I responded. “We all are selfish at times. We all make mistakes. And then we grow.”
“Thank you,” he replied, a deep settling moved throughout his body. Then he continued “I love my horses. They taught me how to be soft.”
“And your horses love you. They love you for that.”
“Thank you.” he said. “Thank you.”
Our conversation followed this format for awhile — his confession, my sense-making reflection, his “thank you,” followed by a further settling in his body.
I had to leave for a scheduled dinner with friends, so I said, “Harlan, I’ve got to go now, but I’ll stop by and see you tomorrow.”
“Ok, thank you, sir.” he replied.
I looked forward to continuing our conversation.
He died that night. I thought we had more time. But isn’t that what we all think — that we have more time?
This is the call: to lean into the discomfort of living more fully, now. Not later.
Like all great and soulful projects, deepening takes time. Begin now.
Take the next small step.
The Insight
The ego clings to comfort and self-preservation at all costs. But the soul is here for growth. And growth always demands discomfort. That’s the cost of a larger life — a life that’s truly yours.
If you’re not uncomfortable, you’re probably not growing.
In times of global instability, like now, we’re offered a rare kind of free energy: the winds of change are already moving. Contrary to conventional wisdom that says “hunker down and let it blow over,” it’s actually in times of great change that we can make the biggest gains.
Harness the plasticity of this time for your benefit, inside and out.
We saw this during COVID: some people sank further into their couches, numbed out, and clung to comfort. Others leaned in, woke up, used the stillness and disruption to grow, heal, and evolve. When the dust settled, the difference was clear.
There’s always a price to pay. You can pay by choosing the acute discomfort of growth (e.g. in the session room with a good coach or therapist to help you get real with yourself) — or in the general malaise of living a life that’s not yours.
The cost of ignoring your authentic life will always outweigh the discomfort of answering your soul’s call.
The Quote
“That of which we are not aware, owns us.”
Finding Meaning in the Second Half of Life: How to Finally, Really Grow Up by James Hollis
The Action
Take a small, meaningful and soulful risk — one that serves your self-growth by stretching your comfort zone.
Here are some invitations:
Share a fear or insecurity with someone you trust.
Offer that apology you’ve been putting off.
Reach out for support.
Give generously — your time, energy, or money — without expecting anything in return.
Journal about a loss you’ve avoided grieving.
Or create your own. Let me know what you choose.
As you lean in, notice: discomfort isn’t death. You’re still here. Still breathing.
You’ve survived every hard thing so far. Why would that change now?
Your strength isn’t in protecting your comfort zone — it’s in your capacity to hold both pain and peace, fear and courage, all at once.
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Until next week,
Tyler White
Relationship Coaching for Men, Couples & Families