Speaking Small
I’ve come to realise that most of us grow up mastering the art of speaking small. Not because we lack ambition, but because somewhere in childhood we learned a quiet rule: don’t say anything that might make you look foolish later. So we talk in safe units… half-dreams, modest targets, things we’re already confident of achieving. It feels practical, but over time that habit quietly becomes a ceiling. We end up describing our lives, not shaping them.
Entrepreneurship shook that out of me. It was the first world I entered where people didn’t just dream bigger — they spoke bigger. They talked about goals as if they were already sitting on the table. Not as a performance, not as bravado, but as a way of telling their mind, their team, and the world: this is where we are heading, come catch up.
Think of Kennedy announcing the moonshot. He didn’t say, “We hope… we wish… we’ll try.” He spoke with a strange kind of finality, as if the universe had already signed the contract. And that tone — that certainty — pulled an entire nation into a higher orbit. Leaders, no matter the field, carry this same quality. They don’t wait to feel confident before they speak; the speaking itself creates the confidence.
Over time I realised something uncomfortable: the moment you declare a goal out loud, you place yourself in a vulnerable position. And maybe that’s the point. Because once you say it — truly say it — your mind starts rearranging itself. Ideas appear that never showed up before. The path you couldn’t see suddenly starts revealing itself, one small light at a time. You didn’t get the confidence first; you got the words first. And the confidence followed.
I’ve watched this transformation happen in real people around me. The day someone says, “I’m doing doubling my revenue this month,” the room shifts. There’s surprise, maybe even disbelief — but something else too. A new expectation forms, both in them and around them. Others start assuming it’s possible. The person saying it stands a little taller, even if they’re terrified inside. It’s not arrogance; it’s courage wearing a thin coat.
And then, of course, there are the reminders that sometimes children hold the wisdom we keep misplacing. A 14-year-old I know recently made a vision board filled with goals written in the past tense — Got the internship. Scored the A’s. Held my first art exhibition. Not “I hope to,” not “maybe someday.” It was all stated as though life had already handed it to her. There was no hesitation in her language, no fear of being wrong. Just a clean, bold claim on her future.
It struck me: adults hesitate because we’ve lived long enough to collect disappointments. Children haven’t yet learned to be afraid of their own voice. And maybe that’s what we’re really recovering when we learn to speak our goals again — a return to that uncomplicated courage.
So if you ever find yourself stuck, unclear, or quietly shrinking your dreams, ask just one thing: What am I afraid to say out loud? Because more often than not, the missing link isn’t strategy. It’s speech. The future doesn’t always begin with a plan. Sometimes it begins with a sentence — spoken boldly, before you’re ready, before you know how — and everything else learns to follow.