High Agency

Apr 28

Hey guys, it’s me again. The guy with too many opinions and not enough margin.

I’ve got a little advice I’d like to share. It’s unsolicited. But it’s also 100% free.

I literally won’t charge you anything if you keep reading. Could be the deal of a lifetime. Could also be a complete waste of time. Let’s find out together.

I recently came across a concept that gave language to something I’ve quietly tried to live by for as long as I can remember:

High Agency.

At its core, High Agency is the belief that you are responsible for your outcomes.

Not your boss. Not your upbringing. Not the algorithm. Not the economy. Not your personality type, your parents, or your current limitations.

You.

It’s not about pretending you control everything. It’s about refusing to be passive. It’s about choosing action over blame. Ownership over excuses. Progress over perfection.

It’s the mindset that says: “This might not be my fault, but it is my responsibility.”

I believe this mindset changes everything.

High Agency isn’t about being bold for the sake of being bold. It’s not about pretending life is easy or ignoring struggle. It’s about moving forward—even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.

Because here’s what I’ve seen: the people who grow, lead, and build aren’t always the smartest, most talented, or best resourced.

They’re the ones who keep showing up. The ones who take responsibility—even when they have every reason not to. The ones who choose to act instead of wait.

Now—I know this kind of thinking can sound overly simplified.

You might be thinking, “That’s easy for you to say, Josh—you’ve had some wins.”

Maybe. But I’ve also had a front-row seat to every failure, false start, and detour along the way. High Agency wasn’t born from success—it was born from a healthy combination of making mistakes and maintaining a bias toward action.

I’ll elaborate.

My high school GPA had way more to do with charm than discipline. My primary reason for going to college was to play basketball where I ultimately tore my meniscus during the last game of my freshmen season. After transferring and going to another college for four years (FIVE YEARS TOTAL), I ultimately dropped out. No degree. I then spent way too much time chasing a music dream that never quite found its legs. I paid for my wife’s engagement ring with student loan money. My professional career started with designing graphics for a burrito company and running funerals at a church.

If there’s a scenic route to success, I’ve taken it—complete with wrong turns, dead ends, and several roadside breakdowns along the way. Most of what I’ve learned came slower than I’d like and cost more than I expected.

What I do have is a stubborn refusal to stay stuck. That’s it.

I don’t wait for perfect plans. I just move.

Even if it’s clumsy. Even if it’s slow. Even if I fail.

High Agency doesn’t mean you never fall. It means you don’t stay down.

You recalibrate. You re-engage. You take the next small step.

And if you’re raising kids like I am, this mindset matters even more.

High Agency is caught, not taught.

Our kids don’t need lectures about grit or resilience. They need to see it.

They need to watch us wrestle with hard things—and refuse to quit.

They need to hear us say, “That’s on me,” and then watch us do something about it.

Because one day, they’ll face adversity.

And when they do, I want them to believe—deep in their bones—that they’re not helpless.

Now let me add this:

I’ve spent a lot of time around people who consistently choose low agency. The ones who shut down, give up, blame others, get loud, complain, gossip, and spiral when life doesn’t go their way.

And listen—I’ve had compassion. I’ve extended patience. I’ve offered help (I’ve even been made out to be the bad guy while doing so). But I’ve ultimately learned that I don’t have the space to build, create, or grow alongside people who think life is just happening to them. I’ve also seen, firsthand, how life exponentially improves when the wrong people no longer have a seat at the table.

At some point, we all face a choice: Keep circling the same frustrations—or step into something better. It doesn’t happen all at once. But it can start right now.

So here’s the invitation—for you and for me: