A Compass is better than a Flashlight
Cling to your mission statement, and you risk walking into storms you didn’t see coming. What once was a beacon becomes a blinder. You think you’re following your north star—but it’s yesterday’s star, yesterday’s sky. What if, instead, you carried a mission question?
Almost every company has a mission statement. A tidy sentence. A proud engraving. A flag planted in the soil.
But here’s the thing: in a world that won’t sit still, a fixed statement becomes a trap.
A mission statement is like a flashlight—it shines narrowly in one direction, assuming it knows where to point. It locks your focus forward, even if the path has changed. It gives the illusion of clarity while blinding you to everything outside its beam.
But today, the map burns the moment you draw it. And the trail you thought you were on can vanish overnight.
Cling to your mission statement, and you risk walking into storms you didn’t see coming. What once was a beacon becomes a blinder. You think you’re following your north star—but it’s yesterday’s star, yesterday’s sky.
What if, instead, you carried a mission question?
Not a declaration. A compass.
A question that demands curiosity, vigilance, adaptation. A question that forces you to look up, look around, and look again.
Because in a world rewriting itself every morning, the winners won’t be the ones with the boldest statement.
They’ll be the ones still brave enough to ask better questions.
