In biology, homeostasis refers to the body’s innate drive to maintain a stable, balanced internal environment, even as external conditions shift. In The Life We Are Given, this concept is expanded to encompass our personal resistance to change, influenced by the complex systems we inhabit—social, political, economic, cultural and more.
“Every one of us resists significant change, no matter whether it’s for the worse or for the better. Our body, brain, and behavior have a built-in tendency to stay the same within rather narrow limits” (The Life We Are Given, Leonard and Murphy, p. 47).
Recently, I made a major shift in my life, disrupting all the complex systems that had held me “safely” in homeostasis. After eight years as Head Coach for the men’s and women’s golf teams at Simon Fraser University, where I had the honor of leading Canada’s only NCAA golf team, I left my job, moved across the Atlantic to Scotland, adjusted to a long-distance relationship with my wife and embarked on postgraduate studies in sports psychology at the University of Stirling.
For me, homeostasis took the form of stability, purpose and routine. Coaching young athletes, guiding their development and contributing to the university community felt like a natural state of balance. In many ways, however, homeostasis became a double-edged sword. While stability offered predictability, it also led to a kind of stagnation. There was comfort in familiarity, but deep down, I recognized that this comfort was also constraining my growth as a coach and as an individual.
Sometimes, life pushes us out of familiar roles in unexpected ways. When a new job opportunity came up at Simon Fraser University, a shift occurred with my perception of purpose. While this new role would have meant different responsibilities, it offered the same safety and stability -- a change in context but within the same homeostatic environment. This moment prompted a deeper examination of my purpose and motivations, ultimately inspiring me to pivot in an entirely new direction.
As a coach dedicated to fostering growth in others, I had dedicated my own practice to the daily habits of self-improvement but avoided taking a step toward a new direction. I had considered future possibilities that would be engaging and meaningful, yet the comfort of my daily routines kept me from making a change. There was safety on the plateau, and I was comfortable on this long, flat period.
In hindsight, I now see that during this time on the long plateau, an internal process was quietly at work. My subconscious was hard at work, gathering insights from each experience, storing knowledge in ways I hadn’t fully recognized, and designing aims that hadn’t yet formed into thoughts. When the time came to break free from homeostasis, this accumulation of practice surfaced as a newfound source of energy.
My first step in making this change real was to look inward and truly understand myself. While the possibility of a career shift lit the initial spark, the deeper work was more profound. By challenging my identity as “the golf coach at SFU” and disrupting my professional routine, I began to redefine what a career in coaching could mean. This shift renewed my commitment to coaching and deepened my values of lifelong learning and growth. Once I embraced this new perspective, I could start putting the pieces of my pivot into action.
With a heightened level of self-awareness, I began aligning my values and habits toward a broader, longer-term vision, connected to a more profound purpose. This process involved facing both the excitement and fear of pursuing goals that seemed beyond reach – a major one being specializing in sports psychology. While homeostasis tugged at me to stay within my comfort zone, my focus on growth helped me push through that resistance.
There’s a paradox of sorts at play here -- my daily practice and routines, while seemingly keeping me safe and resisting change, had instinctively prepared me for this pivot. Once my mindset shifted toward “what’s next,” everything else fell into place. My latent capacities emerged and allowed my integral self to develop, grow and ultimately strive for more.
The final step in my pivot was sharing my new direction with those closest to me. I needed my loved ones to understand this shift and feel involved while ultimately supporting me in this journey. I’m fortunate to have a strong support system that provides guidance, love and encouragement. Once my family and friends embraced this change, I felt a new sense of freedom and energy, as if a powerful force was propelling me forward. It was then that I knew I was on the right path.
Breaking away from homeostasis has been a powerful, transformative journey, unveiling new depths of self-awareness and purpose. Drawing from George Leonard’s concept of “growth and plateaus” in Mastery, I’ve realized that true transformation often arises unexpectedly, in moments of disruption, and not from any fixed goal. For years, my role as head coach at SFU felt like a natural state of balance—a comfortable rhythm that, though familiar, was ultimately holding back my growth as both a coach and an individual. Stepping away from that comfort was initially unsettling, but it triggered a profound shift, revealing a simple yet deep truth: meaningful growth often requires us to move beyond the familiar and into the unknown. While homeostasis instinctively resists change, embracing the pivot has set me on a path that helps realize my extraordinary human abilities.