The Consultant's Dilemma:

Sensei or Subcontractor?

There are days in this work when the lines blur.

You arrive with the heart of a teacher, hands empty but for wisdom, ready to guide others along their own path.

Yet before long, the current shifts.

A gentle request, a look of urgency, a small favor:

"Could you do this for us, just this once?"

And so the sensei feels the old tug,

Back into the work itself, back into the mud.

It is tempting, even noble, to help.

The desire to fix, to patch, to set things right is strong in builders and guides alike.

But in that moment, something precious is at risk.

Without boundaries, the teacher becomes a tool, and the lesson dissolves into labor,

And what could have been a transformation becomes another transaction.

A true consultant does not rush to steady every beam or tighten every bolt.

Instead, they watch.

They ask.

They point to the gaps, the missing systems, the silent chaos where no standard for operations guides the hand.

Sometimes, the greatest gift is not to do, but to pause.

To sit in the discomfort, to let the student wrestle with the task,

To offer presence and perspective instead of quick solutions.

This week, as I stood on that familiar threshold

One foot in the role of advisor, one toe in the world of "just get it done"

I remembered:

Teaching someone to build is slower, messier, and much less heroic than simply doing the work yourself.

But only in this patient, present way does true skill take root.

A consultant is not there to become another crew member.

A sensei remains present, attentive, a step removed

Able to see what others miss, to guide the work, but not carry the load.

Field Note:

"Sometimes, the best way to help is to let others find their balance. Teach, watch, and trust the lesson to land in its own time."