Karen
Karen Stefl has been one of my closest friends for nearly two decades.
Our kids have grown up together (and still are). We've worked together. Created things together. Laughed an inappropriate amount together. Our families became family.
Today, 1,200 miles separate us.
It doesn't really matter.
Karen once heard friendship described as a long train ride. Some people get on for a few stops. Others stay for the whole journey.
"We're on the whole journey together," she told me.
I am so grateful for that, for her, for her family... and ours!
But one of the things I've admired most about Karen over the years is watching her become increasingly comfortable deciding exactly where she wants that journey to take her.
Confidence comes after the scary thing
Karen started at Such Video as an intern.
She didn't walk through the door thinking she'd own the place someday. But entrepreneurship was hardly foreign to her. Both of her parents owned businesses, as did her brothers.
What she didn't see many of early in her career were women making decisions behind the camera.
"If a woman was on set, they were the stylist, wardrobe person, or craft services."
So Karen spent a lot of her early career proving what she could do. This is something that personally resonated with me!
She became a director. A producer. A leader. An owner.
Along the way, she learned something she still carries: "Confidence and success comes after you do the scary thing, not before."
Thousands of decisions without knowing for certain whether she was right eventually taught Karen to trust herself.
But owning the company created another challenge.
Her identity became intertwined with Such Video.
When the company succeeded, Karen felt successful.
When it missed the mark, she made that mean something about herself.
That wasn't sustainable.
So when she became the owner and rebranded the company to Render Studios, Karen wasn't simply rebranding a business. She was intentionally separating herself from it.
She wanted to build a company that was hers... she was proud of... and without needing the company to define her.
That distinction changed things.
She became clearer about the work she wanted to do, the clients she wanted to work with, the culture she wanted to create — and where work belonged in the rest of her life.
Being where you are
Karen lost her mom at a young age and her dad two years ago.
Those losses changed her relationship with time.
"I think there is a little element of grief in all transformation," she says.
Losing her mom taught her that time wasn't guaranteed. Losing her dad reminded her to be more awake in her own life.
So now they take the trip.
They tell people they love them.
Karen still wants to do work she's proud of. She just no longer mistakes work for the entire point of being alive.
"I think I have spent most of my life being very good at forward movement/momentum," she told me. "These last two years I have worked very hard at being good at being where I am."
That's a pretty significant shift for someone who has spent much of her life building what's next.
What does "enough" look like?
Karen was once much more interested in growth for growth's sake.
Bigger projects.
Bigger budgets.
Higher-profile work.
She still loves accomplishing things.
But her definition of success has changed.
Now she asks different questions.
Can I choose the projects we take?
Can I work with people I respect?
Can I compensate my team well?
Can we take the trip?
Can I take Fridays off in the summer?
"Enough to me is freedom to choose."
That idea extends well beyond work.
Karen and her husband have spent nearly 30 years building a life together. Their kids are becoming adults. And Karen is learning that one of the hardest parts of parenting is succeeding at the very thing you're supposed to do.
Help your children build lives that don't revolve around (or even involve) you.
As Karen puts it: "PUTTING YOURSELF OUT OF A JOB IS DAMN PAINFUL AND SCARY."
Especially when she considers parenthood the best job she's ever had.
The thread she's following
When I asked Karen what thread she's following now, she had a word for it:
Intentionality.
Mind. Body. Soul.
After a lifetime of ambition, creativity and momentum, she's asking what happens if momentum itself is no longer the goal.
Not slowing down.
Not becoming less ambitious.
Just being more certain about where she's running.
"What can I do with my mind that is creative, useful, and satisfying? How can I stay active, grow and make good food? And how can I spend my time — with myself and my people — so my soul is replenished and full?"
I've watched a lot of versions of Karen over nearly two decades.
Employee-turned-owner. Entrepreneur. Wife. Mom. Daughter. Friend. Creative force.
And I'm pretty fond of this version.
Still moving.
Still creating.
Still becoming.
Just increasingly determined to make sure she's headed somewhere she actually wants to go.