The other morning, my youngest, Isla, was brushing her teeth.
At least, she was supposed to be.

I walked past the bathroom and saw her standing there, toothbrush in one hand, staring into space. No movement. No brushing. Just toothpaste foam slowly forming a beard of neglect.

“Brush your teeth,” I said.
“I am,” she replied, still motionless.

And in that moment, I saw myself.

How many times have I done the same thing—talking about doing the thing, while doing absolutely nothing?
Talking about how disciplined I am while hitting snooze.
Talking about how important family is while scrolling through emails at dinner.
Talking about being a leader while quietly avoiding the uncomfortable decisions leadership requires.

We’re all guilty of it.
We tell. We announce. We label.
We put our virtues on display like a museum exhibit—“Hard Work,” “Integrity,” “Gratitude”—under soft lighting, carefully curated, rarely touched.

But if you have to say it, you probably aren’t doing it.

The Stoics would’ve laughed at our modern obsession with personal branding.
Epictetus said, “Don’t explain your philosophy. Embody it.”​
He didn’t say, “Make sure your LinkedIn headline says ‘Authentic Leader.’”

Marcus Aurelius didn’t write about “self-care routines” or “hustle culture.” He just got up every morning and did the job, often while sick, tired, and annoyed at humanity.

He didn’t tell people he was Stoic.
He just lived it.

When I first started in business, I was a teller.
I’d talk about the goals, the big ideas, the plans.
I was always “about to” do something great.
About to start that new marketing push.
About to launch that project.
About to finally take some time off with the family.

I looked busy. I sounded driven. But most of it was noise.

It’s easy to look the part.
You can buy a standing desk, a Moleskine notebook, a motivational water bottle, and a “rise and grind” coffee mug.
You can post quotes about perseverance and leadership.
You can tell everyone you’re “building something special.”

The world doesn’t need more people telling. It needs more people quietly doing.

A few years ago, I caught myself falling into this same trap at home.
I’d lecture my kids about kindness. About how we should help others, how we should be grateful, how we should look for ways to make someone’s day better.

Then one morning, London asked, “Dad, why do you always tell us to be kind?”

It stopped me mid-sip of coffee. Not an accusation—just curiosity.

I started listing all the reasons kindness mattered, but halfway through I realised she didn’t need the speech. She’d already seen enough to know what mattered; she just wanted to know why I made such a big deal about it.

That’s the thing about kids—they notice what you repeat. The tone you use. The way you treat the person at the checkout. They’re quiet little mirrors, reflecting back the patterns you don’t even know you’re showing.

It made me think: maybe the goal isn’t to tell them what’s right or even to always model perfection—it’s to show them that values are something you live with, not something you lecture about.

Kids don’t care what you say. They watch what you do.
They copy your actions, not your speeches.

You can’t tell them to be calm when you lose your mind every time someone cuts you off.
You can’t tell them to be brave if you never do anything that scares you.
You can’t tell them to be kind when you treat the barista like part of the furniture.

Leadership—whether at home or work—isn’t about what you say.
It’s about what you show.

I see the same thing in business.
Every company says they “care about people.”
Every brand has “values” painted on a wall somewhere in reception.

Then you watch how they act when something goes wrong.
Suddenly, “integrity” gets buried under “profit.”
“Empathy” gets replaced with “policy.”
And “we care about our people” quietly turns into “HR will handle it.”

The Stoics had no patience for hypocrisy.
Seneca wrote that the philosopher’s job isn’t to talk about virtue—it’s to practice it.

In modern terms: stop posting about your values. Start living them.

I’ve realised people don’t remember what you say about yourself.
They remember the tiny, quiet actions that reveal who you really are.

They remember the time you helped without asking.
They remember when you showed up, even when it wasn’t convenient.
They remember when you took the blame instead of deflecting it.

And they also remember when you didn’t.

The truth is, telling feels safer than showing.
Telling lets you feel like you’re doing something without risking anything.
Showing means accountability.
It means the world can see if you fail.

Talking about your values is easy. Living them when you’re tired, stressed, or frustrated—that’s where it counts.

I once worked with a guy who constantly talked about being “authentic.”
He’d say things like, “I just believe in being real with people.”
Then I’d watch him lie through his teeth in client meetings.
Authenticity, it turns out, is like a tattoo—you can’t just say you have one.

My wife Elise is the best example I know of “show, don’t tell.”
She doesn’t talk about discipline or balance or resilience.
She just lives it.
When things fall apart, she quietly does what needs to be done—no announcement, no Instagram story, no speech about “mindset.”

Meanwhile, I’ll be pacing the house, philosophically mumbling about Stoicism while trying not to burn dinner.

It’s humbling.
But also a good reminder that the best people rarely need to broadcast it.

There’s a passage in Meditations where Marcus Aurelius lists the traits of people he admires—his teachers, mentors, friends.
He doesn’t describe their philosophies or their values.
He describes their actions.
How they listened more than they spoke.
How they treated people who couldn’t benefit them.
How they stayed calm when everyone else panicked.

That’s legacy.
That’s impact.

No one remembers your mission statement.
They remember how you made them feel when the pressure was on.

So this week, maybe skip the talk.
Don’t tell your partner you’re going to be more present—put your phone away at dinner.
Don’t tell your team you value honesty—own up to the thing you stuffed up.
Don’t tell your kids to be kind—show them what that looks like.

It’s all just noise until it’s seen.

Reflection:​
What’s one thing you’ve been telling people about lately that you haven’t actually shown?
Pick one. Do it quietly. No announcement. No “update.” Just do it.

PS: Actions whisper. Words shout. People always listen to the whispers.

Until next time,

Broden Johnson