Charlie Kirk — a young man who built one of the most powerful youth movements in America — was assassinated in front of thousands at a rally. A sniper, 200 yards away, silenced a voice mid-sentence. And in an instant, we were reminded of the fragility of life, the cost of vision, and the high price of freedom.

Discover why facts alone don’t sell. Learn how storytelling builds trust, inspires action, and helps entrepreneurs and salespeople stand out.

I used to think winning was about stacking more wins. Build it. Grow it. Repeat. Lately, I’m a lot more interested in how we build without breaking the people we love — including ourselves. This week on Big Fish Cares , I sat down with Jonathan D. Reynolds (CEO, Titus Talent Strategies ) to talk about purpose, fatherhood, faith, and the simple truth he keeps coming back to:“Most company problems are people problems.” The 15-year-old question At 15, Jonathan asked his parents what he was “created to do.” Their answer: live in the service of others . He didn’t love that answer then. He lives it now — helping leaders find the right people, and helping people find the work they’re built for. That turned into a business and a calling. My advice would be: if you’re still waiting for a lightning-bolt purpose, serve where you stand. Purpose shows up when your service gets specific. For-profit, for good Titus calls itself for-profit for good: build a healthy company and use the profits to help those who need it most. They set a goal to give $30M by 2030 and are already about 70% of the way there . That’s not performative — that’s operationalized generosity. What I would recommend: design comp plans and culture like a family you’d be proud of. Jonathan’s team incentive started as his kids’ allowance…and it works. Leading at work vs. leading at home We talked about the gap a lot of us feel: Compassionate at work, impatient at home. Driver in the office, bulldozer in the living room. Jonathan built a transition ritual before walking through the door — slow down, ask better questions at dinner (“What was the hardest part of your day?” “What brought you joy?”), and be there. That’s leadership too. When you can’t fix it Jonathan’s parents have been detained by the Taliban in Afghanistan . No charges. No clear path. He stood outside the White House with his daughter asking for help. Impossible to carry — and yet this line anchored him: “I can’t control that. I can control my trust. I can control my love. I can control whether I get bitter.” Stay low. Stay humble. Control what you can control. That isn’t a slogan. It’s survival for leaders getting hit by real life. Try this week One conversation: name a “people problem” you’re avoiding and address it directly. One boundary: pick a start/stop for work and keep it. One practice: give something away (time, cash, credit). Open hands move resources faster. If you’re carrying a lot right now, you’re not alone. The goal isn’t a perfect life. The goal is a grounded one. Listen to the episode: Apple Podcasts → [link] · All apps → [link] If this resonated, come do the work with us inside The Pond — founders who want growth and peace in the same breath. [Join the waitlist]

Claire is still in the hospital—but you can help. Donate, share, or pray. Every action brings healing and hope to her family.

Discover why Benny Fisher calls himself a Visionary Navigator—and how his journey with Gino Wickman helped him redefine leadership, alignment, and freedom.

I’m Nes, Benny’s Marketing Director, and usually the person behind the scenes helping bring all the brand content to life. But this week, I stepped out from behind the laptop and into the room. I flew into Pittsburgh to work with Benny in person for the first time since August. We had content to plan, creative to shape, and new ideas to bring to life. But what I didn’t expect was to walk into a moment that would stay with me long after the cameras stopped rolling. That afternoon, Jeff Hancher walked onto set to record an episode of The Big Fish Cares Podcast. I knew Jeff’s background. His leadership coaching, his military service, his Fortune 500 success. But I didn’t know the story behind all that. Not the way he told it. From the moment he sat down, something shifted in the room. He spoke with a depth and clarity that made everything else fade into the background. He talked about growing up in poverty. About watching his mom cut her medication in half just to make it last. About holding her during seizures. About wondering if he’d ever escape the weight of where he came from. And he didn’t just say it. He felt it. So did we. I’ve worked on podcasts before, but this was my first time in the room as one was being recorded. I thought I’d be focused on angles, lighting, social content. But instead, I found myself locked into every word. There were moments when I had actual goosebumps. You could hear it in the silence, in the weight of the pauses. It was real. And it was rare. But Jeff didn’t just speak about struggle. He spoke about leadership with a kind of intentionality that stuck with me. He talked about the power of culture. How the environment we create can either crush people or call them into something greater. He talked about feedback, mentorship, and what it means to show up for others with strength and softness. He told stories of mentors who taught him how to lead. Not just in theory, but in practice. Who helped him find his voice, carry himself with confidence, and rise without forgetting where he came from. And when he talked about losing his mother — the heartbreak, the timing, the unraveling that almost followed — it didn’t feel like a story. It felt like grief in real time. And then came the turning point. One leader stepped in and refused to let him quit. That moment hit me. Hard. It reminded me why I do this work. Why stories matter. Why leadership, when done right, isn’t just about strategy. It’s about people. Jeff’s new book, Firm Feedback in a Fragile World, goes even deeper into these lessons. It’s a book about leadership, yes. But also about healing, purpose, and what it means to lead from experience, not ego. If you’ve ever felt unseen, unsure, or like your story disqualifies you, listen to this episode. Then read Jeff’s book. Let it remind you that some of the most powerful leaders are the ones who had to fight their way forward and chose to bring others with them. �55356;�57241; Watch the full episode with Jeff Hancher on The Big Fish Cares Podcast Now available on YouTube, Spotify, and Apple Podcasts. �55357;�56536; Grab Jeff’s book, Firm Feedback in a Fragile World, here → https://www.firmfeedbackbook.com/ And if you ever get the chance to be in the room—take it. Some stories deserve to be felt up close.

Discover how creative strategist Elayna Snyder uses “artistic noticing” to unlock creative flow and build confidence in business and life. This post explores simple daily practices for noticing inspiration, trusting your perspective, and turning your differences into strengths. Featuring insights from The Big Fish Cares Podcast, you’ll learn how to break old patterns and reconnect with your creative self. Listen to the full conversation and find more creative resources inside.

Last Wednesday, I found myself walking into a room full of strangers in Austin, Texas. I didn’t know a soul in person. I wasn’t sure what to expect. But I was there to honor a man I had never met face to face— John Ruhlin . We had developed a virtual friendship over the past year and a half. We'd messaged, traded stories, and planned to record a podcast together in August. But life had other plans. John passed away suddenly on August 4th, just days before I was set to fly to St. Louis to meet him. I never got to shake his hand. But I already knew his heart. John lived by one radical idea: that relationships can take you places marketing can’t™. And he didn’t just say it—he embodied it. Through his book Gift•ology , his work, and his way of living, he left a legacy of generosity that continues to ripple outward. So when I was invited by Mike Dawid —John’s neighbor and one of his best friends—I booked a flight without hesitation. Sharlia from the Gift•ology team made it official and graciously gave me a seat at the main table. There I sat with John’s wife Lindsay Ruhlin, Justin Donald , Jesse Flocken , Nick Najjar , and their amazing wives. (My wife Brittany couldn’t be there, but I know she would’ve loved every moment of it.) As I looked around the room, I was surrounded by generosity and warmth. These people weren’t just there for a book launch. They were there to carry a legacy forward. But what I’ll never forget was watching John’s daughters, especially Reagan—so strong, composed, and present. The entire event was a masterclass in what happens when someone truly lives a life of purpose. It wasn’t a funeral. It wasn’t a marketing event. It was a movement fueled by love. Throughout the day, they held both silent and live auctions. Coaching packages, experiences, products—all generously donated. Then two auctioneers stepped up to auction off a vintage Kiko Auctions hat. Rusty and Gene Kiko, from Canton, Ohio. That name stopped me in my tracks. See, I come from a farming family in Stark County, Ohio. The Kiko name was sacred in our circles. My grandpa, my uncles, my cousins—they all knew and worked with the Kikos. My cousin John worked there his whole life. My Uncle Dale put all the signs in for over a decade. That name was part of my family’s story. So there I was, in Austin, hearing the Kikos auction off a $20 hat that felt like a time capsule from my childhood. I felt my grandpa’s presence so strongly. I knew he would’ve been proud of me. I raised my hand and bought the hat—for $1,000. And I had them autograph it. Sacred. Full circle. No coincidence. Then came the auction for five special copies of Beyond Giftology, John’s final book, each signed by Lindsay and the Ruhlin girls. That’s when Adam Stock stood up and said he would match the sale of every book, up to $25,000 total—$5,000 per book. People started raising their hands. One, two, I bought the third book, then four. And then there was a pause and a stillness in the room. Adam got back up and came to the front of the stage and grabbed the mic and said two things, “Remember what John would always say…give til it hurts? And… What’s the cost of an idea that can change your life? That’s when I raised my hand again. I didn’t need another book. But I knew I needed to give. Because John always challenged us to give until it hurt. I couldn’t imagine the pain his wife and daughters are in as they navigate life without John. It was the least I could do. John has inspired me so much and his legacy even more. Meeting Lindsay and seeing her love for John, his legacy, and her faith in Jesus was a sight to be seen. She is a strong well spoken woman who gave a powerful message to the audience. She shook everyone's hand and gave hugs at the end of the night and I have a feeling it won’t be long before the Ruhlin women are making boss moves in the radical generosity department. Now, I own two copies of Beyond Giftology—both signed by the people who mattered most to John. One will stay in my family forever. The other? I’m going to give it away. Maybe to someone who needs to learn what true generosity looks like. Or maybe to someone building a legacy of their own. And here’s the part that gives me chills: John Ruhlin was born on March 16th. 3/16. And if you knew anything about John, you know he loved Jesus. So tell me it's a coincidence that the man who taught the world how to give like Christ was born on John 3:16? You can’t make this stuff up. To honor John’s birthday, I released a special tribute podcast on March 16th. It’s a mix of some older clips, voice notes, and a powerful segment from my interview with Cameron Herold—someone John loved and admired. Please take some time and listen to it here . It’s my way of saying thank you to a man whose legacy touched me deeply. And if you want to help me carry this legacy forward: Buy two copies of Beyond Giftology . Keep one. Give the other away. Because someone in your life needs this book. And generosity has a funny way of multiplying when we give it away. Thank you, John. For everything. I’ll keep giving until it hurts. And I’ll never forget you.