Cracked, Not Broken
Several decades ago, I spent a year working in Japan.
It was early in my career. I was ambitious, hungry to prove myself, obsessed with getting things “just right.”
And Japan, with its precision and beauty, captivated me.
One friend, in particular, stood out.
Impeccably groomed. Thoughtful in everything she said. Her home was pristine and minimalist: a reflection, I assumed, of her perfectly curated life.
Then, visiting her one day, I noticed something:
An old ceramic cup. Cracked, but carefully repaired with gold. Not hidden. Highlighted.
That was my first encounter with wabi-sabi:
The Japanese idea that there’s beauty in imperfection.
That the weathered, the worn, and the unfinished hold their own kind of power.
At first, it seemed to clash with everything I believed.
Because I’ve always strived for excellence.
High standards. Clear delivery. Clean execution.
So how could I embrace this and still stay true to what drives me?
But over time, I realised:
👉 Excellence isn’t the same as perfection.
Perfection tries to eliminate flaws.
Excellence (the kind that lasts) knows how to work with them.
Later that realisation changed how I led.
How I built businesses.
And how I now coach leaders.
Because when leaders cling to perfection, it often:
• Paralyses progress - we overthink instead of acting
• Fuels self-doubt - nothing ever feels “ready enough”
• Shuts down creativity - people won’t take risks if mistakes aren’t allowed
• Creates brittle leadership - we become afraid of being seen as anything less than bulletproof
Whereas excellence with imperfection:
• Builds resilience - mistakes become stepping stones, not shame spirals
• Creates psychological safety - your team brings you problems early instead of hiding them
• Encourages iteration - ideas evolve through testing, not theorising
• Leads with humanity - your people follow someone they can actually relate to
I still think about that cup.
Cracked. Repaired. Respected.
Not flawless. But all the more valuable because of what it had been through.
Leadership is a bit like that too.
These days, I still hold high standards.
But I’ve stopped expecting flawlessness - from myself or anyone else.
I lead with precision. But also with presence.
I aim for rigour, without rigidity.
Excellence is still my standard. But I’ve learned to pursue it with grounded confidence, not fear.
That old cup taught me: strength and beauty can live in the imperfect.