Blogpost, self-reliance

No Compass Leaders

Pete Huryk

I’ve spoken about leadership before, and my ideas have always been pretty simple: “Leaders Go First and Leaders Eat Last!“

Feel free to read the original post for more detail, but the basic idea is that the dynamic tension between those two seemingly opposing forces is what makes a leader worth following.

Leaders go first. It’s pretty straightforward. The leader is the person who goes in front of others to show them how and where to go. Leaders eat last is based on the tradition of military leaders, particularly in the Marines, eating after their subordinates. It’s a simple but powerful expression of servant leadership. If you don’t serve the people under your care, don’t be surprised if they don’t particularly care whether you eat.

I’ve held to this philosophy for a long time. But today, I realized it might be incomplete.

We’ve all seen the charismatic figure who draws people in like a moth to a flame. Charisma can be a powerful tool, but it doesn’t necessarily make someone a good leader. Their motives may be questionable. Their judgment may be unsound. Their empathy for the people following them may be nonexistent.

The tension between leading from the front and serving those behind you might exist perfectly well inside the head of a leader. They can show people where to go, demonstrate how to get there, and even make sacrifices on their behalf. But if their compass is off, the destination may be disastrous for everyone involved.

You can lead people well and still lead them in the wrong direction.

A compass is a directional tool. It uses the Earth’s magnetic field to help us navigate from one place to another. But the metaphor goes a little deeper than that.

Following a compass toward true north might eventually land you in a frozen wasteland. (Or at the workshop of a mythical philanthropist, but I’m not betting on it.)

Even a compass needs to be understood and interpreted. It points in a direction; it doesn’t tell you whether that direction is wise, safe, or even where you actually want to go. Navigation requires judgment, context, and a willingness to question the route.

Leadership is no different.

Blind faith in a leader without a moral compass can take you to some very dark places. Jonestown is an extreme example, but the underlying problem isn’t confined to cults or history books. It happens whenever people surrender their judgment to someone else, convincing themselves that following is easier than thinking.

The Kool-Aid might not be for you.

And that brings us to the other half of the equation: followership.

Knowing how to lead is important. Knowing whom to follow, and for how long, is just as important. Nobody gets everything right indefinitely. We all make mistakes, misread situations, and occasionally head down the wrong road. The question is whether we’re paying attention to the signals telling us something isn’t right.

Some people aren’t even looking.

So what do we do?

Leadership is a necessary part of life. Absolutely! And as I’ve said before, we should all lead at least one person: ourselves.

That starts with dusting off our own compasses.

It seems that too many of us have traded judgment for autopilot, allowing the promise of short-term rewards and the temptation of me first thinking to determine our direction. We follow the crowd, adopt somebody else’s priorities, and assume that if enough people are heading the same way, it must be the right way.

It isn’t necessarily so.

You, I, and everyone else will get things wrong from time to time. That’s inevitable. But we can keep our compasses at the ready, whether they’re grounded in morality, intellect, spirituality, or some other set of principles that gives our lives direction.

We need something to guide us beyond the shifting winds of popular opinion. Something that helps us decide not just where we want to go, but who we want to be when we get there.

Your life is far too important to spend it continually saying, “I’ll have what they’re having.”

You have a choice. Use it!

Life’s an adventure. Bring your compass!

Pete

Blogpost, self-reliance

Being from New Jersey is a Superpower!

Pete Huryk

Anyone who is not from New Jersey just thought, “Makes sense, lots of superheroes get their powers from toxic waste!” I can appreciate the humor about my home state, which I learned in my late teens is sometimes referred to as the “Armpit of America.” If you’re not from New Jersey, poking fun at us is easy, and I’ll get to the other forty-nine states in just a moment. For now, I’m going to point out some of the better aspects of being from the “Garden State.”

1. New Jersey is small.

Not Delaware small, but small enough that being from NJ means something. Sure, the North Jersey/South Jersey thing exists (does Central Jersey exist?), but overall, being from New Jersey is an identity. Put two people from New Jersey in a room anywhere in the country and there’s a pretty good chance they’ll start trying to figure out where the other one is from, what high school they went to, and whether they know the same people.

That’s not necessarily a bad thing.

2. New York City is right next door.

Living in the almost literal shadow of probably the most important city in the world puts a bit of a chip on one’s shoulder. People from New York State can associate themselves with the City easily. Much to my chagrin, we even have multiple professional sports teams that take the City name but play in NJ. The owners either want the cachet or are embarrassed by their location. Either way, it breeds a little-brother mentality that can serve our residents well.

We’re constantly reminded that we’re almost New York, but not quite.

Eventually, you learn to be comfortable being underestimated.

3. The Turnpike, Newark Airport, the Parkway and Jersey Shore are usually the first things that pop into people’s minds about NJ.

While they are all eyesores in their own right, they do a pretty good job of embodying the Jersey persona: “You don’t know me until you know me.”

People discount an entire state based on the worst of what we have to offer, and that’s generally okay with us. Most of the people that I know from NJ are extremely tight with “their people” and a bit suspicious of outsiders. It’s not that we’re unfriendly. It’s more that you need to put in the time to get to know us.

We have it all, but we’re pretty easy to dismiss if you can’t be bothered to look.

And honestly, there’s something useful about that.

4. Pork Roll or Taylor Ham?

Not only do we have a meat that is pretty unique to our area, we also fight amongst ourselves about what it’s called. In all honesty, it’s a tissue-vs.-Kleenex thing, but I’ll move on.

Being unique comes in all kinds of packages, even a little bag of meat. But that uniqueness probably comes with a bit of heritage. A tip of the cap to the people that came before us, because even though we’re not always nice, respect seems to be a big deal.

If you’ll notice, none of these is particularly positive on its own. They’re generalizations that are presented with a positive slant.

Is being from New Jersey truly a superpower?

Not really.

But that’s actually the point.

Each person needs to decide how to look at the ingredients of who they are and choose to see those component pieces as positive or negative. Being overlooked can destroy someone, unless it doesn’t. Unless they use it to make themselves stronger.

That’s true no matter where you’re from.

Maybe you’re too loud. Maybe you’re too quiet. Maybe you’re stubborn, impatient, intense, awkward or just a little different. Maybe you’ve been told that one of those things is a weakness.

So what?

Who you are is an advantage if you figure out how to make it one.

There’s nothing particularly special about being from anywhere. Nothing in the water is going to make you awesome. It might give you cancer, but that’s a different blogpost.

You have to tell yourself a story about your greatness.

Then you have to go out and tell the rest of the world.

Being from New Jersey is not enough.

But it’s not a bad start.

And if you’re wondering whether being a little rude is part of that superpower, I prefer to think of it this way:

I’m not rude.

I’m from New Jersey. There’s a difference.

What exit? Exit 19 off of Route 80!

Pete

Blogpost, self-reliance

Dee: A Masterclass in the Imperfection Necessary to Find Greatness

Pete Huryk

Before AI, Photoshop, social media, and digital music, it was possible to literally wear out a favorite cassette by playing it too much. One tape that I wore out at least twice was Ozzy Osbourne’s Tribute album, a live recording dedicated to the legendary guitarist Randy Rhoads. It featured incredible performances of Ozzy and Black Sabbath classics, but the track I found myself returning to most wasn’t one of the heavy hitters.

It was “Dee.”

Named after Randy’s mother, a music teacher, “Dee” is a beautiful acoustic guitar piece. Even more fascinating is the studio recording session included at the end of the album. Instead of hearing the polished, finished version, you hear Randy working through it. There are pauses. There are mistakes. There are quiet “oops” moments. You hear him stop, regroup, and try again as the piece gradually becomes smoother.

It’s a rare glimpse behind the curtain.

An intimate acoustic instrumental probably isn’t the first thing that comes to mind when you think of Ozzy Osbourne and Randy Rhoads. Their public image was loud, aggressive, and larger than life. But that contrast makes the lesson even more powerful: the public version of greatness rarely reflects the messy process that created it.

Today, we have more tools than ever to hide that process. AI can rewrite our words. Photoshop can erase our flaws. Social media lets us publish only our highlight reel. Digital recording can make every note sound perfect.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with any of those tools. In fact, before you read this, I’ll run it through an editing process to make sure I’m at least coherent.

The danger isn’t editing.

The danger is believing that perfection is the goal.

Students become afraid of anything less than an A. People obsess over every perceived flaw in their appearance. Fans expect athletes to perform flawlessly every night. The fear of stumbling becomes so overwhelming that creativity, originality, and passion begin to disappear. We slowly trade our humanity for the impossible goal of becoming flawless machines.

But flawless machines don’t create art.

Humans do.

So today, DEE.

Create the studio session, not just the studio version.

Allow yourself to say, “Oops.” Let people see that the process isn’t always clean. Keep working until you’re proud of what you’ve made, noticing how it gets a little smoother with each attempt.

The process will never be perfect.

It was never supposed to be.

But greatness?

That’s still on the table for anyone willing to embrace the imperfect path that leads there.

Rock and Roll!

Pete

Blogpost, self-reliance, SoccerLifeBalance

World Cup: USMNT Can? Will? and Will

Pete Huryk

For about ten years, I’ve been saying that the United States would win the World Cup in 2026. At first, it was simply a bet on home-field advantage. Then it became more of a mathematical equation: a talented young core that would all be entering their prime in 2026 (for most soccer players, that’s around ages 26–28). Then came the investment in the coaching staff. Over the past few weeks, the final piece has fallen into place—the fans.

The table is set for the “Miracle on Grass” to replace the “Miracle on Ice.”

I’ve happily shared this prediction with anyone willing to listen, but now we’ve reached the point where the rubber meets the road. Over the past few weeks, people have asked me whether the USMNT can win the World Cup.

The answer is, of course, yes. Any team that hasn’t been eliminated can win the World Cup.

The more interesting question is whether they will.

I’m no clairvoyant octopus, but I’m sticking to my prediction: yes, they will. Of course, that’s worth about as much as my answer when students ask if we’ll have school tomorrow because snow is in the forecast. It’s just a prediction. The results will speak for themselves.

What I can say with confidence is that, based on what I’ve seen—from the USMNT’s performances, to the reception the American people have given the world, to the excitement coming from people who normally couldn’t care less about soccer—I believe we finally have the will to win it.

That distinction may sound like semantics, but I don’t think it is.

The United States has long been known for its drive to accomplish big things. That spirit has produced incredible achievements, and at times it has also led us down less admirable paths. Either way, that drive has always been part of our national character. In recent years, though, it has felt dormant. We’ve become comfortable—perhaps even victims of our own success.

Much like Manchester City (still hate them), who spent so long at the top that they seem to have lost some of their hunger, we’ve lacked that same edge.

Hosting the World Cup has changed something. The incredible mix of fans and cultures arriving on our shores has created a tipping point. Soccer in the United States no longer feels like a sport waiting for its moment. It feels like a nation expecting one.

That’s why I believe we’ve moved beyond simply being a team that can win the World Cup. We’ve become a country that believes it must.

I’m sticking with my prediction: this is our year.

And if it isn’t, I still think something has changed permanently. We now have the will to win. Whether it’s this tournament or the next, I believe that mindset is here to stay.

GO USA!

Pete

Blogpost, self-reliance

On The Move… Again

Pete Huryk

I haven’t counted the actual number in a while, but since leaving home after high school, I’ve moved more than twenty times. Some of those are front-loaded because I lived in around eight different places during my college years — dorm rooms, apartments, roommates that didn’t work out, and all the rest.

This move feels different though.

This time, I’m moving in with my fiancée, who already has a fully furnished house. So a lot of my stuff simply “isn’t making the trip.” In the past, moving meant a truck, boxes, and a Herculean amount of lifting. This time it’s more of a sifting process — deciding what stays, what goes, and what was only being carried around because I never stopped to question it.

Honestly, that feels like a pretty fitting metaphor for this moment in life.

There’s always this belief that a move is going to change something. A new town, new surroundings, new people, a fresh start. Sometimes we convince ourselves that the scenery is the problem. Sometimes we think another person is the problem. Sometimes we quietly hope geography alone can fix things internally.

But one thing always makes the trip with you.

You.

No matter where you go, you still bring your habits, your perspective, your baggage, your fears, your routines, and your unresolved stuff along for the ride. Some of that is good. Some of it probably needs to be left on the curb.

As I’ve been sorting through possessions, I’ve also been trying to pay attention to the things inside myself that probably shouldn’t make this move either. Old frustrations. Relationships that only drain energy. Bad habits that should have been discarded years ago. Thought patterns that have overstayed their welcome.

The hard part is that change sounds a lot easier than it feels.

Even when we know something needs to change, actually doing it usually comes with discomfort. Sometimes it means taking an honest look at parts of yourself that you’ve spent years avoiding. Sometimes it means admitting that some of the weight you’re carrying isn’t circumstance at all — it’s familiarity. Even unhealthy things can become comfortable if you’ve carried them long enough.

At the same time, there’s something hopeful about that realization too.

You already know what the status quo feels like. You already know where your current habits, patterns, and choices lead. Maybe most of it is working great and only needs a few small adjustments. That’s a good thing. But if deeper change is needed, eventually you have to decide whether carrying the same version of yourself forward is easier than finally letting some things go.

Boxes, furniture, regrets, grudges, excuses — eventually you realize not everything needs to make the trip.

See you down the road.

Pete

Blogpost, self-reliance

Prostalgia – A Word We Need

Pete Huryk

It’s not a real word. I made it up.

But then again, all words are made up. At some point, someone says something new. If enough people adopt it, it sticks. Sometimes we recycle old words and give them new meaning—like when “phat” had its moment in the 90s. Those trends come and go. Language, like everything else, moves in cycles.

That’s exactly why we need prostalgia.

Nostalgia is the bittersweet feeling of remembering something that no longer exists. A time, a place, a version of life that we can’t return to. And that part is true—time only moves one direction. There’s no going back.

But the instinct behind nostalgia isn’t wrong.

Because not everything we miss is actually gone.

Some things weren’t taken from us by time. We let them go. And more importantly, we could choose to bring them back.

I’m not talking about buying vinyl records to recreate a music scene that has already passed. Some things do belong to their era. But others—arguably the most important ones—don’t.

Neighbors looking out for one another.
Hard work being an accepted part of life.
Families acting like they matter.
Friends being people that connect with, even without wifi.
Cooking as a basic life skill instead of a lost art.

These aren’t relics. They’re choices.

Yes, progress matters. Rejecting new ideas and technology outright is a losing game. But somewhere along the way, there was a trade that no one consciously agreed to. In gaining convenience, speed, and efficiency, we gave up parts of what made life feel human.

The past wasn’t perfect. Not even close. It was filled with flaws, blind spots, and mistakes we shouldn’t repeat.

But it also held onto things we shouldn’t have let go.

And that’s where prostalgia comes in.

Not a longing for the past—but a decision.

A decision to reclaim what was good, to reintroduce it into the present, and to carry it forward.

Prostalgia: the intentional revival of ideas and practices from the past—not because they are old, but because they are worth keeping.

The future is coming. What are you taking with you?

Pete

Blogpost, self-reliance

Ready Player One

Pete Huryk

It’s not one of my favorite movies, but Ready Player One has stuck with me—less because of the film itself and more because of how I first watched it.

In the backyard of my son’s friend, his parents had set up an outdoor movie theater. For a child of the ’80s, it hit two notes at once: nostalgia and a glimpse into a future that suddenly didn’t feel so far away. Virtual worlds, constant connection, the pull of the screen—it all feels a little closer now than it did then.

Which makes the title linger: Ready Player One.

What if that’s not a question, but a directive?

As I’ve written before, the first person in your life is you. You don’t get to step outside that perspective. You move through the world the same way a player moves through a game—eyes forward, reacting, adjusting, making choices in real time.

But here’s the difference: in a game, you’re given tools. You can see your health. You have a map. You can pause.

In real life, you don’t.

We move forward without a clear read on ourselves. No meter telling us when we’re close to burnout. No notification that we’re running low on patience, focus, or energy. And no pause button when things start speeding up.

So “ready” can’t just be a question—something we hope to answer when the moment arrives. It has to be a verb. Something we practice.

Because the world isn’t slowing down. If anything, it’s becoming more chaotic, more demanding, more immersive. And while technology gives us access to almost everything, it also tempts us to disappear into it. The “Oasis” isn’t science fiction anymore—it’s just… life.

And yet, the ending of the movie still holds up. At some point, you have to log off.

Not completely. Not forever. But intentionally.

Because no matter how advanced things become, we’re still human. Connection still matters. Friends, family, love—those don’t scale the way technology does. They take time. Presence. Attention.

And those are exactly the things that get stretched thin.

So part of “readying yourself” is knowing your limits. Knowing when to step away. Knowing how much you can carry before it starts to carry you.

Anxiety is up. The pace is relentless. It would be nice if life came with guardrails—something soft to keep us from hitting too hard. But that’s never really been the deal.

Instead, we prepare. Not perfectly, but intentionally.

Boy Scouts of America got it right in a simple way: Be prepared.

I’m a long way from merit badges and handkerchiefs, but the idea still holds.

Not “Are you ready?”

Ready yourself.

The game is already in motion.

Let’s play.

Blogpost, self-reliance

Barbers and Mechanics

Pete Huryk

When I moved to Virginia from New Jersey, one of the most upsetting things was leaving my barber behind. Mand’s Barbershop in Hackettstown was the best find the year prior to my move. The owner, Amanda Sunshine, cut my hair perfectly, is a great conversationalist, remembers exactly what I want done, plays good music, and is just all-around awesome. For the first few years, I delayed haircuts just to travel back to New Jersey — literally for a haircut. I’ve found people who’ve done a passable job since, but no one has replaced Mand’s. Finding a barber takes time because it comes down to trust.

In a few months, I’ll be moving again. The search for a barber continues, but this time I’m leaving behind a good mechanic — Ed’s Automotive in Lynchburg. That may be an even bigger trust factor. With modern cars, the possibility of being “taken for a ride” always exists. I was glad to find Ed’s. They fixed a problem another mechanic may have created. But once again, I have to leave that trust behind for a new zip code. Even with all of today’s technology, you can’t take everything with you.

The essence of trust is consistency, not perfection. No one delivers perfect results — not barbers, not mechanics, not spouses, not colleagues. Trust is built in the ordinary repetitions. Showing up. Doing the work. Owning the mistake. Doing it again tomorrow.

Most of the world measures everything in dollars. But money isn’t the only currency we trade in. Trust is harder to calculate, but far more valuable. You can’t Venmo it. You can’t download it. And when you move, you can’t pack it in a box and take it with you.

I can’t take my barber or my mechanic with me. But wherever I go, I’ll be there. And at that point, it’s on me.

It’s my job to build trust. Not just look for it.

Day by day. Moment by moment.

You have to build it again.

Maybe that’s the point.

Pete

Blogpost, self-reliance

Results Are On Layaway!

Pete Huryk

The concept is old. Not many stores do it anymore with the rise of credit cards and Buy Now, Pay Later arrangements. Still, I remember it well. My mother at Jamesway (a Walmart-like store, for those unfamiliar) putting an item on “layaway.” The store would hold the item for you while you paid it off over time. You didn’t get it until the final payment was made.

By modern standards, it may seem antiquated or even a bit strange, but it was actually a far more sensible way to make a big purchase. The incentive to finish paying was obvious—you didn’t have the thing yet.

Despite stores abandoning the system, that’s still how results work.

Results are on layaway until they’re paid for.

Life, unfortunately, is not a fully reputable vendor. Payment doesn’t guarantee the exact result you want. Sometimes it feels like a strange mix of layaway and lottery, effort and chance. It can be infuriating. It can also be exhilarating. What makes it harder is that our consumer culture of “buy now, pay later” has quietly seeped into how we think about everything else.

The idea of putting in regular—sometimes daily—effort toward a desired outcome feels foreign. People want what they want, on their terms, and as quickly as possible. Layaway feels like yesterday’s news.

I’m not always one for nostalgia, but this is one idea that deserves a comeback—not in commerce, but in mindset. In how we think about effort, patience, and reward. There are no guarantees, but recognizing that progress usually follows a reliable path matters more than ever. In far too many ways, we’ve maxed out our credit.

It’s time to put payment first again.

Put this aside for me—I’ve got to get to work.

Pete

Blogpost, self-reliance

Looking Past the Headlights

Pete Huryk

Driving at night is a pretty dicey affair when you think about it. You’re moving forward at speed with not much more than thirty yards of vision and a yellow or white line to guide you. At the same time, complete strangers are coming at you in the opposite direction with their own ton or more of metal and plastic. It’s a scenario full of real danger. And yet, we look past the oncoming headlights and fix our eyes on the destination. More often than not, we get where we meant to go. The limited sight distance and the doom three feet away don’t stop us.

Take us out of that context—away from paved roads and traffic signals—and we freeze. Paralyzed. All we see are the headlights of doom as we chart a course toward a dream. The distance feels too far. The next steps too uncertain. Our foot is surgically attached to the brake pedal. Forward motion seems reckless. Better to stay here, in the known.

The problem with standing still is that you can’t. The world is moving whether you notice it or not. Time, relationships, money—pick your metric. Opportunities are coming, and if you’re not ready to meet them, they’ll pass you by. So put your foot on the accelerator and look past the headlights in front of you. The danger you’ve built up in your head around chasing that dream is far less treacherous than driving at night.

Get in gear and go.

Pete