Trust Grows in the Pause
Lessons in Presence, Patience, and Shared Power
Inspired by quotes from my memoir Bending Without Breaking – Straight Lines Optional
Lasting transformation arises not from control or expertise, but through relational presence, shared vulnerability, and the quiet trust that emerges in life’s interruptions.
These insights point to a deeper truth: the most enduring progress stems from presence, not persuasion; from collaboration, not control. Whether in dusty project sites or long waits for signatures, the real work was always relational. Vulnerability built bridges where authority couldn’t. Mentorship was mutual. Interruption became invitation. And leadership found its truest form in letting go. The sacred emerged not in grandeur, but in dignity honoured. What took root was never just a project—it was a pattern of trust formed in the quiet spaces between plans. This is the paradox of meaningful work: the more we release, the more deeply things grow.
The Power of Presence and Hospitality
Power flows through us—
Not wires, but warmth and stillness,
Bending builds the bridge.
“Success in interconnection hinges less on volts and more on vision—and the willingness to bend without breaking.”
In the power sector, success is often assumed to be technical—about wires, towers, and deals. But I discovered that progress hinges far more on presence than on plans. When I stopped focusing on how to convince and started to simply listen, the atmosphere changed. It was in those unscripted moments—over meals, during walks, or quiet after long meetings—that trust took root. Relationships advanced not because I pushed, but because I stayed. Presence carried a weight I hadn’t anticipated.
Being available in the right spirit often accomplishes more than delivering the perfect plan.
Sacredness of Everyday Spaces
Relational work,
Human dignity honoured,
Creates sacred space.
“The towers may line up neatly across borders, but the path to get there is a winding route—full of detours, half-built bridges, and moments when the whole effort seems ready to fall apart.”
I once believed transformation required grand settings—summits, ceremonies, declarations. But in the messy process of developing long-term electricity infrastructure strategies, I discovered that breakthroughs often emerged in unlikely places: cramped boardrooms, dusty project sites, and late-night hotel lobbies. Behind every technical plan lay delicate balances of trust, egos, and sacrifice. These ordinary places became sacred—not because of their design, but because of the relational work that happened within them. It changed how I viewed my work: not just as engineering, but as a way to serve.
Wherever human dignity is honoured, sacred space appears.
Vulnerability Builds True Connection
Our fear makes us weak,
Just what others need to see,
To believe we’re real.
“I found myself caught in the middle… Engineers, often sidelined in policy debates, suddenly found new opportunities.”
I entered a world shaped by economists and policymakers where engineers were often sidelined. I didn’t always know where I fit. Yet, it was in acknowledging that tension that I built credibility. Rather than pretending I had the answers, I leaned into listening. In rooms filled with political agendas and economic metrics, admitting what I didn’t know opened space for others to be real, too. That mutual honesty became our shared language. Vulnerability became the bridge.
What we often fear will make us weak is exactly what others need to see to believe we’re real.
Reciprocity in Mentorship
To guide is to learn—
Every voice a quiet gift,
Shared in equal trust.
“Everyone had a role to play… Governments needed success stories. Consultants needed follow-up contracts. Investors needed independent validation.”
The ecosystem of international development was intricate—governments needing wins, banks needing oversight, consultants needing contracts. I entered thinking my role was to advise, to bring clarity. But the deeper I went, the more I realized that everyone had something to teach. I was shaped by those who navigated the bureaucracy with grace, who balanced pressure with patience. Mentorship became mutual. We were all learners—just at different stages of awareness.
To truly mentor is to remain open to being mentored.
The Call to Be Interruptible
New insights emerge,
While interruptions work to
Build integrity.
“It took a year to get ten signatures from a consortium of lenders… Each lender had to have all the paperwork in compliance with their own policies.”
Planning in the international development world is notoriously slow and unpredictable. I once waited an entire year for ten signatures—just to release funds to begin a project. It could have been maddening. But somewhere in that delay, relationships deepened, new insights emerged, and priorities shifted. The interruptions I once resented became the very fabric of the project’s integrity. I learned to stop fighting the detours and started welcoming them as part of the rhythm of change.
Grace often arrives uninvited, disguised as an inconvenience.
Community Over Individual Accomplishment
Building together,
Always more lasting than what
We construct alone
“Each project began with a pre-feasibility study… A positive result opened the door to a full feasibility study. And that, in turn, was the gatekeeper to funding.”
Feasibility studies, funding pipelines, intergovernmental approvals—it was never about just getting the job done. Every success came through webs of cooperation. The studies weren’t just data—they were the glue between players with competing priorities. My job wasn’t to finish first but to finish together. The projects I remember most fondly weren’t the fastest or flashiest—they were the ones that made us a team. Our collective endurance made the vision sustainable.
What we build together is always more lasting than what we build alone.
Letting Go of Control to Embrace Trust
Leaders paradox,
Delegate extensively,
So more things take root.
“When I started my career, it was still possible to build… in six years. A decade later, it took at least ten years.”
There was a time when infrastructure projects took six years to complete. Now, ten years was considered fast. The old playbooks no longer worked. I had to let go of the illusion that my expertise or planning could steer the outcome alone. Instead, I began to trust the rhythm of the work, the wisdom of others, and the mystery of timing. What emerged was not just a project—but a deeper way of leading marked by humility and patience.
The paradox of leadership: the less you grasp, the more things take root.
Published July 13, 2025