Breadth v Depth – an ode to Sevens

By Carel Nolte

A reflection on a life lived wide, a life seeking to go deeper. My life.

I’ve been thinking about breadth versus depth a lot lately. Probably because my own life is full to the brim. It always has been. I’ve been fortunate with incredible opportunities from an early age and I don’t take that lightly. To whom much is given much is expected. That Methodist line has shaped my outlook more than most people realise.

The truth is my life is broad. I’ve travelled widely across the world. Pretty much every country in Europe. All of North America. About half of Africa. Australia and New Zealand. Too many others to list without sounding like I’m trying to win a competition. The point is not the air miles. It’s the exposure. Travel opens your eyes, whether it’s the Guggenheim in Bilbao or a roadside food stall in Manila or a dawn prayer call in Marrakesh. It shifts how you see people which shifts how you live your own life.

I’ve also had the privilege of meeting extraordinary humans. Writers, CEOs, farmers, athletes, priests, bartenders, taxi drivers, activists, artists. People with more degrees than sense and people with no formal education at all who understand life more deeply than the rest of us ever will. My work, my friendships, my board roles, my books, my sport, my social media interactions, even AI tools — all of these widen my world further. And often in ways I least expect.

That’s the upside of breadth I have found. It gives you energy. It builds empathy. It makes you useful in rooms where you otherwise wouldn’t be. For me it’s also enforced a basic truth I learned from my mother as a child. You can learn from anyone and you can contribute to anyone. Nobody is better than you. And you aren’t better than anyone.

But here is the tension I’m working through: breadth can come at a cost.

My life is busy because I choose it that way. And because I enjoy almost all of it. But a full life can also make you short. Abrupt. Rushed. You skim across the surface of conversations. You connect with many people but don’t always go deep enough with enough of them. You plan meticulously — and I do, a year ahead to survive the logistics — yet sometimes you don’t have the spaciousness for full presence. To fit it all in means you compromise on going deeper.

That bothers me. Because I don’t want to give up breadth. It’s part of who I am. The curiosity. The abundance thinking. The belief that life is richer when you open multiple doors instead of guarding one. 1+ 1 must = more than 2. But I also want more depth. More intentionality. More attention. More listening. More pauses. That paradox stands in the middle of my life like a traffic circle with no signage.

So how can I live wide and also live deep?

I don’t have the answers. I’m figuring it out like everyone else. But here are a few thoughts that I’m trying to practice.

Practice presence in pockets
You don’t have to overhaul your life to go deeper. You only need to choose depth intentionally when the moment calls for it. Turn the phone off. Look someone in the eye. Ask the second question not just the first one. There are a few wonderful humans in my life I do this with.

Plan like a maniac but leave emotional room
Planning helps breadth, but depth needs white space. Build margin. Leave breathing room between commitments. Protect a few evenings or mornings each week with the same intensity you protect a board meeting. Despite my obsessive planning, I leave space for the unexpected.

Say no without guilt
Breadth is not the same as busyness. Say no to the things that don’t enrich your life or enrich someone else’s. Not everything is for you. I am finding it easier and easier to say no’ not to take on board the needs of everyone else. Especially when they only engage when they want something.

Slow down when it matters
You don’t have to slow down all the time. That’s not realistic for some of us. But you need to slow down at the right times. Depth is a choice not an accident. Slowing down, for me, doesn’t mean doing nothing. It means doing different.

Find anchors
Books, faith, running, long walks, playing bridge, writing, a conversation with someone who knows your blind spots. These are anchors which help me go deep even when life is loud.

Accept that balance is a myth
This isn’t a problem you solve. It’s a tension you manage. Some seasons are wide, some are deep, and some are messy combinations of both. But life is never 50/50 in happy harmony. Don’t try and force that.

When I first thought about this piece I was reminded of the song “I’ve Never Been to Me,” immortalised in “The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert” movie. One of my best. That line about visiting Georgia and California and being undressed by kings yet never having been “to me.” It’s a warning about breadth without self-knowledge. A good reminder to any of us who live big, fast, outward lives (and of course, I HAVE done everything in that song, except one thing. Listen and tell me which one?!)

The Marginalian (formerly Brain Pickings) often reflects on depth versus breadth. Maria Popova writes beautifully about building a life that is both wide awake and deeply rooted. One of her lines I return to: “The richness of life lies in its interdependencies.” That is the heart of this whole question. And if you aren’t following The Marginalian, give yourself a gift and do so.

Rilke urges us to “live the questions.” Annie Dillard reminds us that “how we spend our days is how we spend our lives.” David Whyte writes about the “fierce landscape of presence” – which is my shorthand for choosing depth.

Films echo the theme too. “Everything Everywhere All at Once” is a chaotic meditation on what happens when a life has too many worlds to inhabit and the simple act of presence becomes salvation. “The Tree of Life” contrasts the way of nature with the way of grace and suggests depth comes from choosing attention. Even “Inside Out,” a children’s film on the surface, teaches that emotional depth only comes when we stop performing happiness and allow nuance.

Where I land

Of course, this thinking on my part isn’t new. I first had focused conversations around this decades ago! And they were infuenced heavily by my friend – and coach at the time – Sharon Jansen. If you haven’t guessed by now, I am Seven Enneagram type. That means I’m wired for possibility. I move toward new experiences instinctively. I chase energy, ideas, people, places. E7 are often really good at breadth. We see patterns fast, connect dots others may miss, hold multiple projects in the air without losing enthusiasm. But the shadow side is real. We don’t love discomfort or stillness. We often avoid dwelling too long in one place emotionally because sitting in the tough stuff can feel like being trapped. And that means depth sometimes suffers. 

I want breadth and I want depth. I want energy and meaning. I want to make the most of my opportunities and also honour the people in front of me fully when it counts. I won’t ever have it perfectly balanced and that’s fine. The work for me — and for many E7s I suspect — is to stay present long enough to let things land. To resist the urge to sprint to the next spark. To realise that the same curiosity that drives breadth can also be used to deepen relationships, insight and presence if we slow ourselves just enough to let it. And so maybe the point is to pay attention. To course-correct. To stay curious and stay grateful and try to do some good with what I’ve been given.

If anything in here resonates with you or irritates you or makes you think differently, I’d love to hear it. I don’t write these pieces because I have the answers. I write them because I’m working through the same questions everyone else is – I think!

Breadth matters. Depth matters. And perhaps our lives are better when we choose/chase both!