Be the first penguin 🐧

When you are brave, you give others permission to be brave too.

You might have seen that viral National Geographic video of penguins standing at the edge of a cliff. It’s comical at first—fluffy birds pacing nervously on a frozen ledge, staring down what looks like a suicidal drop into the sea below.

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Bertie Gregory, the filmmaker, narrates:

“Surely they can't be thinking of going off there.”

“I have no idea if a penguin chick could survive a fall from such a height.”

“Are they actually gonna go?”

“It’s a real spine-tingling moment…”

And then—one jumps.
Followed by another. And another.

They all survive the drop, of course.
Not only that—they dive like pros.

Turns out, they’re the world’s greatest diving birds.
They just needed one of them to go first.

That’s exactly how I felt last week when I posted a TikTok video of myself—barefaced, in pajamas, talking about getting losing my job—on LinkedIn.

It sounds dramatic, I know. But emotionally? It felt like skydiving without a parachute.

I’d been sharing these videos on Instagram and TikTok for weeks. But LinkedIn felt like another level. That’s the platform where we share wins. Promotions. Job announcements. Humble brags wrapped in thought leadership.

It’s also where all my former (and future) bosses are.
That was the cliff.

But I knew: if I wanted to be free, I had to own my story.

I hit publish with my heart pounding.
And then… something unexpected happened.

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The voice in my head before I posted sounded like this:

“You’re going to look unprofessional.”

“People will think you’re spiraling.”

“No one will take you seriously again.”

“This is career suicide.”

But here’s the thing about fear: it’s loudest right before the leap.

That voice is sneaky.
It tells you that vulnerability is dangerous.
That showing your truth makes you weak.
That people only respect the highlight reel.

But I was tired of the highlight reel.
I wanted to feel free more than I wanted to feel safe.
And that’s why I jumped.

When you're brave, life meets you halfway

What I didn’t expect was what came next:

• Daily messages from former colleagues, classmates, and internet friends saying, “Thank you. I needed this.”

• DMs from strangers going through eerily similar life chapters

• Unexpected offers for full-time, part-time, freelance, and advisory work

• Virtual and IRL coffee dates that turned into collaborations and new friendships

• A deeper sense of peace, play, and creativity than I’ve felt in months

• A reminder that I like being me—scrappy, intuitive, creative, brave

Who knew that sharing my “fail” would bring me so many wins?
And not just the kind that look good on LinkedIn.
The kind that feel like coming home.
Aligned opportunities. Heart-centered connection. Unexpected joy.

The paradox of vulnerability

Here’s what I’ve learned:

When you say the thing you’re most afraid to say out loud, shame loses its grip on you.

You stop performing.
You stop managing perceptions.
You stop outsourcing your self-worth to other people’s opinions.

You become bulletproof—
because when there’s nothing left to hide, there’s nothing left to fear.
The power people once held over your image? Gone.

That’s the paradox:
The thing I thought would disconnect me… ended up connecting me to all the right people.
The part I wanted to leave out of the story… was the story.

Everyone’s standing on a cliff

We’re all carrying untold stories.
Things we’re ashamed of.
Failures, rejections, versions of ourselves we’d rather not show.
Things we think we have to hide in order to belong.

And truthfully?
We’re all tired of hiding.
Tired of the inner weight.
Tired of performing strength while secretly wondering if we’re the only ones struggling.

But no one wants to be the first to say it out loud.
Most of the time, we’re just waiting for someone else to go first.

To say: “Me too.”
To show us: “It’s safe now.”

What I’ve seen—at retreats, in community, and through this newsletter—is that the moment one person shares the real thing, the room changes.

We exhale.
We connect.
We see each other.

That’s why I hate small talk.
That’s why I’m not interested in highlight reels.
That’s why I write.

Because the magic is always in the mess.

Be the first penguin

So I’ll leave you with this:

What’s the story you’ve been scared to tell?
What’s the thing you’ve been standing on the edge of, waiting for a sign?
What if the very thing you’re afraid to say… is the thing that sets you free?

The first penguin isn’t the most confident.
She’s not the best penguin.
She’s just the one willing to leap while still scared.

And when she does—she changes everything.

The story you're scared to tell might be the one that sets you free.

That one act of courage—whether it’s posting something vulnerable, quitting the job, starting the project, or having the hard conversation—makes it safer for the rest of us to follow.

So if you’re standing at the edge, unsure…
I hope this gives you a little nudge.

Own your mess. Own your story.
Be the first penguin.

Just like the ones on that icy cliff—
you might be closer than you think to discovering you’re the world’s greatest diving bird.

Big love,
Joei

P.S.
What’s the story you’ve been scared to share, but know might set you free if you did?
I’d love to hear your “first penguin” moment.

Reply to this email or drop it in the comments. I’m cheering you on. 🐧