Leadership, Luggage, and Launching What’s Next
If you’ve ever wondered what it looks like when several experiments reach the same crossroads, welcome to my summer.
Over the next few months, I’ll be packing up Fern—our 1984 VW Vanagon campervan—celebrating a new book, stepping away from a role I’ve held for eight years, and launching new adventures that I’m genuinely excited about.

It’s a season of endings, beginnings, and the kind of change that feels both a little terrifying and exactly right.
Many of you know that for the past eight years, I have had the privilege of serving as a Level 3 (MCC) educator and mentor coach. It has been meaningful, challenging, rewarding work, and I am deeply grateful for the hundreds of students whose curiosity, courage, and commitment made it so worthwhile, and for the fellow teachers who challenged my thinking, expanded my perspective, and contributed to my own growth as an educator and mentor coach.
As with all experiments, there comes a moment when you realize you’ve learned what you came to learn, contributed what you came to contribute, and it’s time to make room for something new.
This year, I am stepping away from that role.
Not because I love it any less. Not because the work matters any less. But because I find myself drawn toward creating something different—something that allows for more freedom, more creativity, and more opportunities to build meaningful learning experiences.
One of those new adventures is a gentle partnership—or perhaps a “partner-ish-ship”—with my friend and colleague, Matthew Cintron Quinones.
As this collaboration takes shape, I will be offering classes, mentor coaching, and new opportunities for coaches who want to refine their craft and elevate their coaching. This partnership with MCC Mavericks means my offerings are already accredited for ICF Level 3 (MCC).
And perhaps most exciting of all, I will be hosting a 3-Day MCC Retreat Intensive in Dundas, Ontario this September.
After years of teaching coaches on Zoom, the idea of pulling away from screens and gathering in person for three immersive days of learning, practice, reflection, and feedback feels incredibly energizing. There is something powerful about stepping out of daily rhythm and into a shared space where learning can breathe.
I can’t wait to share more details in the coming weeks.
As if that weren’t enough change for one summer, there’s another exciting adventure on the horizon.
My husband, Mel Rutherford, has released a new book: The Glass Cliff: One Transman’s Leadership Odyssey.
Watching this book come into the world has been one of the great privileges of my life. It is thoughtful, courageous, and deeply relevant to the conversations many of us are having about leadership, identity, resilience, authenticity, and belonging.
Throughout July and August, we will be on the road in Fern—our 1984 VW Vanagon campervan—moving slowly from place to place, speaking with readers, leaders, organizations, and communities about the ideas in the book and the conversations it inspires.
Fern has a way of shaping the journey. She is unhurried, a little unpredictable, and entirely unwilling to be rushed—so we are learning to match her pace. I suspect there will be long stretches of highway, coffee in the cup holders, unplanned detours from the route we thought we were on, and great conversations.

Alongside the book tour, I am also continuing to coach clients throughout this season, including some truly exciting new coaching relationships that are already underway.
One of the things I am especially looking forward to is coaching from the road with Starlink, bringing my work into motion and seeing what shifts when conversations happen from different places, landscapes, and rhythms.
I am curious about what new perspectives will emerge for my clients, and how being in motion myself will shape the questions, insights, and breakthroughs that show up in our work together.
And beyond these first months, this is really the beginning of something longer. We will be on the road off and on for the next two years, letting the journey unfold in its own rhythm rather than trying to force it into a fixed shape.
I suspect there will be long drives, too much coffee, interesting conversations, unexpected adventures, and probably a few stories worth telling when we get home.
As I look across all of these changes, one thing stands out.
Leadership is rarely about having a perfectly mapped plan.
More often, it’s about paying attention to what is emerging, having the courage to release what no longer fits, and being willing to launch the next experiment before you know exactly how it will unfold.
That’s where I find myself right now.
Grateful for what has been.
Excited for what is coming.
Watch for updates from the road.




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