In the northern hemisphere, March arrives like a held breath finally released.

There is something unmistakable in the air - a loosening. The earth, which has held so much in the long quiet of winter, begins to soften. Light lingers a little longer each evening. And somewhere in the landscape, in the hedgerows and along the streamsides, the alder tree is in bloom, its catkins trembling in the still-cold wind, its roots holding fast in the wet, in-between places.

This is the month of the equinox. The moment when day and night stand in perfect balance.

For those of us who lead teams, organisations, or simply our own lives - this feels like important territory to pause in.

What does it mean to stand in balance?

Not perfectly still. But present. Rooted. Responsive.

The Spring Equinox: A Moment of Equal Ground

On 20th March, day and night are equal. For a brief moment, the scales tip to neither side.

In many traditions, this threshold was treated with reverence. Not because perfect balance is sustainable - it never is - but because the equinox reminds us that balance is possible. That light and dark, rest and action, solitude and connection, can coexist.

For leaders, I think this is a quietly radical idea.

So much of the culture we move in demands that we choose: be strong or be vulnerable, be decisive or be curious, be productive or be present. The equinox asks something different. It asks us to stand at the threshold and feel what it is like when opposites are held together, without one winning.

What would it feel like to lead from that place of balance this spring?

Not from the pressure of either extreme, but from the generous middle - where you can see clearly in both directions, where you bring your full self, not just the parts you think are needed.

International Women’s Day: The Courage to Be Seen

8th March was International Women’s Day - a date that carries weight, history, and genuine feeling.

This year’s theme, as ever, asks us to reflect not only on how far we’ve come, but on what still needs our attention, our courage, our voice.

For many of the women leaders I work with, the challenge isn’t absence from the room. Its presence within it.

The quiet dimming that happens when a woman makes herself smaller to accommodate the comfort of others. The recalibration that comes after speaking boldly. The invisible labour of holding culture together while also being asked to perform confidence.

Wholehearted leadership, for me, has always been deeply connected to this. When we talk about bringing body, mind, heart and spirit into leadership, we are talking about the courage to be whole, not partial. To be seen as a full person, not simply a function.

How are you being with yourself right now?

Are you leading from your full self, or from the version of yourself you think others need to see?

These are not easy questions. But they are the right ones.

This month, I am holding deep appreciation for the women I know and work with who show up with quiet tenacity, who ask the harder questions, who create space for others to be whole. You know who you are.

The Alder Tree: Leadership That Bridges Worlds

In the Ogham calendar - the ancient Celtic tree alphabet - March moves through the time of the Alder (Fearn). And what a tree it is.

The alder is a tree of edges.

It grows where land meets water. In marshes, alongside rivers, in the liminal places where the boundary between elements blurs. Its roots hold sodden soil in place, preventing erosion. Its timber, when submerged, hardens rather than rots - one of the reasons it was used for centuries as the foundation beneath bridges and Venetian buildings. Hidden. Essential. Load-bearing.

The alder doesn’t stand in the open meadow or reach for high ground. It takes root in the difficult, uncertain, in-between places - and it stays.

I find this a profound image for leadership.

The most effective leaders I have had the privilege of working with are often the ones who can stand in the in-between. They can hold tension without needing to resolve it too quickly? They provide stability not by removing complexity, but by being steady within it.

Like the alder, this kind of leadership is often invisible. The executive who quietly holds the culture together during a difficult transition. The senior leader who creates psychological safety without ever naming it. The team coach who doesn’t rescue the group from discomfort, but trusts them to move through it.

Rooted. Present. Quietly load-bearing.

Where are you, the alder, in your organisation right now?

Where are you standing in the difficult, in-between places, and holding things steady?

Leadership in the Liminal: What March Is Asking of Us

These three threads - the equinox, International Women’s Day, and the alder - weave together into something I keep returning to this month.

They all speak of threshold.

Of the capacity to stand in the uncertain, the in-between, the unresolved - and remain present. Not heroically, not with all the answers. But with rootedness. With care. With the quiet courage to stay.

This is what I mean by Wholehearted Leadership.

It is not about performing certainty or projecting strength. It is about being genuinely, fully present - even when the ground is soft, even when the light and dark are in tension, even when you are asked to lead in the difficult places no one else wants to occupy.

“The courage to slow down” is a phrase I come back to often in my work.

March, with all its in-between beauty, seems a good moment to practice that.

A Note: Anthropy at the Eden Project

I am looking forward to the Anthropy26 gathering at the Eden Project with great warmth and anticipation.

For those unfamiliar, Anthropy is a coming-together of people who care about reimagining how organisations and communities can work - rooted in values, in relationship, in a genuine desire for a different kind of culture.

The Eden Project itself feels entirely right for this kind of gathering. A place built on the belief that life can flourish even in unlikely conditions. That connection between people and planet is not a soft idea, but a structural necessity.

I will be there, listening and learning. If you are also attending, I would love to connect. Come and find me.

A Quiet Prompt for This Month

As March moves through its days - the buds thickening, the light stretching, the world slowly remembering itself - I invite you to sit with one question:

“Where in my leadership am I being asked to stand in the in-between?

And what does it mean to stay?”

You might journal with it. Bring it to a walk. Hold it lightly in a conversation with someone you trust.

There is no single answer. But the asking, I think, matters.

With warmth,

and with care for your leadership journey,