What is the word that sits at the center of the future you are trying to build?
In a recent Leadership Story Talks debrief, hosts Jerome Deroy and Julienne Ryan reflected on their conversation with Bryce Kennedy, whose work in the space industry is grounded in something both deeply personal and universally human: wonder.
The episode explored space, possibility, hope, and the kind of childhood curiosity many of us recognize — looking up at the sky, imagining what might be out there, and feeling, even for a moment, that the world is bigger than what we can see in front of us. But the deeper leadership lesson was not only about space. It was about how we find the thread that connects our experiences, how we make sense of non-linear paths, and how we invite others to care about the thing that matters most to us.
The Path Is Not Always Linear
Julienne reflected on the image of Bryce as a child looking up at the sky, dreaming of space and imagining a future that may not yet have had a clear shape. Many people have some version of that early spark: a fascination, a question, a sense of possibility. But the route from that spark to a meaningful life or career is rarely straightforward.
Bryce’s journey, as Jerome and Julienne noted, was not linear. It involved pivots, chances, experiments, and failures. At one point, Bryce reflected that perhaps 90 percent of the things he tried did not work. But the 10 percent that did work mattered enormously, because those moments helped lead him toward what he now understands as his life’s purpose.
That is an important reminder for anyone in the middle of a transition. When we are changing careers, rethinking our work, or trying to understand what comes next, it can be tempting to look for a clean narrative: one decision, one turning point, one obvious path. But more often, purpose is discovered through trial and error. The work is not always to avoid failure. Sometimes the work is to notice what remains meaningful after the failures have done their teaching.
The Ingredient Beneath the Goal
Jerome pointed out that finding your own “why” is only part of the process. Once you understand what matters to you, you still have to bring other people with you. That is especially true in a field like space, where there are many possible directions, many competing ideas, and many reasons someone might ask, “Why should I listen to you?”
For Bryce, the answer became clearer when he understood that space was not only about science, technology, exploration, or ambition. At the heart of it was wonder. Human beings have always had a relationship with the sky. Across cultures, backgrounds, and histories, people look up. They tell stories about the stars. They wonder what is beyond them.
When Bryce began speaking from that place, people could connect to his work differently. They could understand not only what he was doing, but why it mattered. Wonder gave people a doorway into the story.
Julienne described this as finding the “ingredients” before rushing to the verbs. Before deciding what to do, it helps to understand what must be present. It may be a feeling, a value, a belief, or a force that sits at the center of the work. For Bryce, that ingredient was wonder. For someone else, it might be justice, belonging, dignity, freedom, discovery, repair, or hope. Once you know the ingredient, the action becomes easier to communicate.
Owning What Matters to You
Julienne also spoke about the courage it takes to own the thing that grounds you, especially when it may sound too soft, too abstract, or too difficult to defend. Many people hesitate to speak from the heart of their work because they worry it will not sound serious enough. Before they have even begun, they can already hear the imagined critics questioning whether the idea is too fluffy, unrealistic, impractical, or beyond their qualifications.
Those voices can come from other people, but they also often come from inside us. They form a kind of internal committee, ready to question any desire that does not arrive with a guarantee. Yet as Julienne observed, when we become clearer and more committed to honoring what is in our heart, even when it does not make perfect sense on paper, we begin to forge a path.
That clarity does not eliminate uncertainty. It does not silence every critic. But it does help us communicate from a more grounded place, and that groundedness builds trust. People can sense when a story is artificial. They can also sense when someone is speaking from something real.
From Word to Story
Once Bryce identified wonder as a central theme, he could begin telling stories that brought that word to life. Jerome noted that a word or sentence is only the beginning. The next step is to create stories around it so other people can understand what it means to you.
Wonder by itself is a beautiful word, but it becomes more powerful when attached to a moment. It might be a child looking up at the night sky, an astronaut seeing the Earth from above, a community watching a launch, or a scientist asking a question no one has answered yet. The story gives the word shape.
Stories turn a value into an experience. They also invite others to find their own connection. When someone hears a story about wonder, they may remember their own moment of wonder. When someone hears a story about hope, they may recall a time when hope helped them continue. That is how a personal story becomes a shared one. It gives other people a place to enter.
For leaders, this is essential. A word can focus your message, but a story helps people feel why it matters.
What Is Your Word?
The invitation from the debrief was simple and powerful: look toward the future you want and ask whether you can drill it down to a word or a sentence. What is the thing underneath the thing? What does this next step provoke in you? What feeling, value, or belief keeps showing up across the work you want to do?
For Bryce, it was wonder. For someone navigating a career change, it may be freedom. For someone building a team, it may be trust. For someone launching a new initiative, it may be access, courage, or connection.
The word does not have to explain everything. It simply has to point you toward the emotional center of the story. From there, you can begin to find the moments that bring it to life.
Sharing the Story
Jerome closed the debrief with a practical encouragement: once you find that word or sentence, try sharing the stories that bring it to life. See how people respond. Notice what lands. Notice when someone leans in, asks a question, or offers a story of their own.
That is often where momentum begins. Not in a perfectly polished pitch, but in the moment when someone understands what matters to you and can feel why it matters to them too.
Purpose may begin internally, but leadership requires connection. If we want people to support an idea, join a mission, or take action, we have to help them see themselves in the story. The clearer we are about the word at the center of our work, the easier it becomes to invite others in.
Because sometimes the next step does not begin with a plan. It begins with a word, and from that word, a story that helps others see what is possible.
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