Years ago, I spent a hot Texas afternoon helping my father build a fence on his small ranch near Stockdale. It was honest, back-breaking work: post hole diggers, an iron bar, and soil that felt more like rock than dirt.
Working alongside us was an older gentleman named Martín Morales, a man who had lived and worked on that land for decades. He was in his seventies, quiet and steady — one of those men who had learned efficiency not from a book, but from necessity.
I was in my thirties then, strong and eager to prove myself. I attacked that ground with everything I had. The bar clanged, the sweat poured, and each hole seemed to take forever.
But Martín was digging just down the line, hole after hole, faster than me — and making it look easy.
So I watched him.
He wasn’t slamming that iron bar. He was guiding it.
He’d lift it just high enough, let gravity take over, and position it exactly where it needed to go.
Every move had purpose. Every stroke counted.
That’s when it clicked:
He wasn’t fighting the earth — he was working with it.
The lesson stuck.
In business and leadership, I’ve seen the same pattern: the hardest workers often exhaust themselves while the true masters move with rhythm and intention. The difference isn’t strength — it’s wisdom.
We’re conditioned to believe that speed, hustle, and volume equal success. But too often, that mindset just digs us deeper into burnout.
The most productive people I know don’t chase motion — they cultivate mastery.
They pause.
They think.
They guide.
In the end, Martín’s way wasn’t just about digging post holes. It was about understanding the natural forces at play — gravity, resistance, rhythm — and aligning with them.
Leaders can do the same:
Stop fighting the work.
Start working with it.
And let wisdom do what muscle alone never can.