Consider the amount of energy it takes for a person to tread water. The swimmer remains vertical, keeping her head above water by moving her arms and legs.

When one treads water, there is little directional movement. For the most part, the swimmer stays in the same place.

But, if the swimmer — using the same amount of energy it takes to tread — if that swimmer adjusts her motion ever so slightly, to create a bit of propulsion, she can begin to move in a particular direction.

* * *

Sometimes we’re stuck in a project, or in a career. Sometimes we think, “I have no options. I’m treading, keeping my head above water. It’s all I can do.”

Maybe so. But if we can’t outright swim... and there’s no rescue boat in sight... (that is, we feel like we can’t just quit and do something else) then perhaps we can make small efforts to tread with direction. We can move toward something. We can chart a path.

We might not know if we’re choosing the right path, of course, but we know what will result from treading in the same place: more treading in the same place.

It’s so tempting to compare ourselves to others. To see who is achieving the goals we also seek to achieve.

But the person who is closer than you to the milestone you’re eyeing... the person that’s over the horizon already... That person started her race before you. Or maybe she’s just faster. Or maybe she started somewhere else, and she is merely crossing your intended path.

But she is not you, and she’s not running your race; she’s running her own race.

* * *

There are people ahead of you, and people behind you. People next to you, too. Everyone has a different pace, and a different journey.

Catching up to the person out in front is a fruitless goal: there’s always someone else even farther ahead. And if you rest thinking you’re well ahead of the pack — that’s a useless comparison too. Besides: bringing yourself to a full stop can make it difficult to begin again.

So don’t compare. Just run your own race. After all, you are the only one who can run it, and it was designed just for you.

In business, in relationships, in life — there are lots of problems to solve.

Some of those problems are big, some are small.

Occasionally, fixing some of the small problems can help lessen the burden of the large problems (sometimes, they're part of an interconnected network).

However, there are plenty of small problems that sit off by themselves. You could spend all of your energy fixing those small problems without having any effect on the big ones.

This has little to do with how much energy you expend, how dedicated you are, or how expertly you work.

It has to do with where you apply your efforts.

If you’re always busy and never really getting much done, take a look at the types of problems you’re solving.

“What do you want?”

The question is an abrasive one. If verbalized, it can seem offensive.

And yet it’s the question we should have in our minds as we interact.

“What do you want?”

It’s something to ponder as someone speaks to us. As someone tells us a story.

Meaning, I want to understand your needs. I want to know how I can help. Do you want…

• my attention?

• my advice?

• my opinion?

• my laughter?

• my approval?

• my reassurance?

• my forgiveness?

• my pity?

• my support?

• my discouragement?

It’s an affront to ask these outright. But by trying to tune into what someone is seeking, it helps us to respond in a way that is compassionate and helpful.

When someone says, “I don’t really read,” take pause.

Reading can be a signal. It can often point to how someone engages with the culture.

Not reading is like running freely with your eyes closed. It’s not a problem if you’re out in open space — if you’re not navigating a landscape filled with obstacles or other people. It might even be beautiful and freeing to do this, or to observe it (both literally and figuratively).

But by reading, one explores a more complete landscape. One learns of the dancers. One sees how the machines operate.

And in doing so, one can engage with the culture more effectively. More intentionally.

Don’t just watch.

Read.

The moralizing driver — the person whose gift to traffic is impeding the late-merger, or the driver on the shoulder — the moralizing driver doesn’t always know the full story. The reason for the other driver’s actions.

Even so — even if the offending driver is in the wrong — it’s hard to teach lessons through a rear-view mirror and two windshields.

It’s usually not worth the effort.

“I haven’t had a chance to call.”

Let’s be clear: not calling is a choice.

Unless you are incarcerated and your calls are limited, you have had a chance, and you’ve chosen to not call.

Calling, after all, can be awkward. Especially if you haven’t spoken in a long time. Especially if you don’t have an urgent need to call.

Plus, a “catching up” call is never brief, and you’re busy. Very busy.

But if the relationship is worthwhile, it’s worth a call from time to time. It’s worth more than a like or a retweet.

For the hearing world, our need for spoken conversation predates our need for reading letters, emails, and texts (even the really good ones).

The longer you wait, the more awkward it will be. Just make the call. You’ll be glad you did.

There’s something beautiful about a newly stretched canvas — especially if you’ve done it yourself. Sturdy, straight stretchers. Taut, pristine surface. Smooth, white gesso.

It takes a few hours of careful work to prepare a canvas in this way.

When an artist is just learning how to paint, however, this is a problem.

• The perfect surface

• The anticipation

• The sunk cost of the prep work

• The expectation of a painting worthy of the canvas

A useful technique for new students is to paint on cheap newsprint or cardboard. To paint on something disposable, which requires no preparation. To not be precious with it.

Not to aim for failure, or to try painting poorly, but to be willing to accept what happens. To get beyond the high expectations that sow fear and anxiety. To move past the worrying, and to get to the doing.

It’s the same with many new creative endeavors. Our best learning happens by making work that can be discarded, and then doing it again. And again. And again.

Sometimes a small spill prompts us to spot clean an object, and we suddenly realize how dirty that object has become.

Dust, dirt, and sediment have a tendency to build slowly — so slowly that we don’t even notice…

…until we clean that little area.

Then, we get a very clear sense of how bad things have gotten.

It’s easy to do a little test — spot cleaning the hood of a car, the porch railing, a window.

It’s a lot harder to test things that aren’t remedied with detergent and elbow grease.

Politics. Physical health. Social justice. Civility.

Consider the valuable mental exercise of imagining these things at their best. Pure and clean.

If we can do that, we can begin to assess how bad it has gotten, and what we might do to clean it up.

A large bank note is useless at a vending machine that only accepts coins.

The hydroelectric power station isn’t much help in solving your dead AAA battery remote control problem.

Portion-size and packaging matter.

Even when you have the right materials — the right ideas — the delivery matters.

There are times when you’ll want to offer the fire-hose version of your grand idea when the drip-by-drip method is what will be most effective.

Those who know you may have you typecast. They know your strengths and weaknesses. They know the hobbies you pursue, and the things you do professionally. They know your history.

Being able to define you is a comfort. There are labels that can be applied. Job titles. Vocations.

So when you try something new — something that doesn’t fit the known mold — you might meet resistance from others.

“Hmm. I didn’t know he was a singer.”

“That’s surprising. I didn’t know she was a writer. Has she written anything before?”

“He’s changing careers? Huh.”

The new thing might confuse your acquaintances. They might not know what to do with it.

Don’t let that stop you.

New adventures can start today, and they don’t have to relate to your past.

And when you’ve sung fifty songs, or written a dozen short stories, or celebrated an anniversary for your new business... no one will say, “Hmm. I had no idea…”

Your past doesn’t get to determine what you do today. You do.

When you speak up, is it to add value to the conversation, or is it more about demonstrating to the group that you have an understanding of the subject matter?

Are you moving the needle, or are you telling everyone, “Look! I know where the needle is too!”

It’s the difference between initiating a sound that resonates, and merely adding noise.

Water — applied to the bark of a branch — will do little to grow a tree.

Even if the water is really good, and the application is done lovingly. Consistently.

On the branch, it doesn’t do much.

It’s the same with our personal growth and our business growth.

That is, in order to grow, we need to nourish the right areas. We need to apply effort in the right places.

When we feed those areas… when we level-up in those places… that’s when real growth happens.

Does your neighbor remind you that the special refuse pick-up is next week?

Does a colleague dial your extension to let you know there are some home-made treats in the office break room?

Does an acquaintance let you know that the hallway you’re walking toward is blocked?

I’m not asking, “Do you have friends?”

Rather, “Are you making meaningful connections with people — enough that they care to think of you?”

Here’s the secret: it usually starts with you. You being thoughtful. You being courteous. You being generous.

That sort of thing tends to work its way back to you.

And not that it’s the reason for being nice… but sometimes you end up getting the scoop on baked goods before they’re all gone.

When there’s an emergency, we act.

Sometimes we don’t know what to do and so we act on impulse and instinct. We make quick, educated guesses.

Other times, we've prepared for the emergency. There’s a plan in place, and we follow the plan.

* * *

When there’s not an emergency, however, it can be harder to act.

Nothing is pressing. No immediate harm will be done if we sit idle.

So the challenge is to be productive amidst the lull. To be self-motivated. To make a plan and to execute. To do our best work with a sense of purpose and urgency.

* * *

Of course, some people like to manufacture emergencies. They create chaos so they can do a lot of yelling and hand-waving. Then they spend all their time problem-solving and playing the part of the hero... solving the problems that they never really had to create in the first place.

Dear reader,

Don't forget that the “dear” in a salutation is an adjective.

It’s part of conventional etiquette, so we often include it without even thinking.

But there are plenty of other adjectives we could use to address the people with whom we correspond — particularly if we are close to them.

It’s worth considering from time to time, generous reader.

When we put work into the world — when we post on social media, when we blog, when we put work in a gallery, when we sing — there’s not always a response.

It can be unsettling.

Did anyone hear me? Did my voice find an ear? Does my message resonate?

Sometimes, there’s nothing.

Without focus groups, without likes, without comments, without reviews… how do we know?

There are times when we simply don’t know. But that doesn’t stop us.

We put work into the world because we are trying to make change happen, and that unfolds slowly. Sometimes quietly.

So we can’t be impatient when we publish. When we create. When we ship. When we speak.

Before social media and hyper-connectivity and tracking cookies, the writers and artists and thinkers who changed the world did so without real-time analytics, and without a single retweet.

You can trick some people into doing what you want them to do. Colleagues, employees, volunteers, children, clients… they can all be fooled into compliance.

But sometimes, people know they’re being tricked.

* * *

So you’ve gotten your way, but it cost you trust.

And now you don’t have enrollment; you just have your way.

You have to decide whether the loss of trust is worth it.

If you were running for re-election in your personal relationships, what would that look like? What would you list among your accomplishments for the past term? What promises would you make for the future?

Luckily, that’s not how relationships actually work.

However, you could still take pause and make quiet personal goals to improve… and to keep your imaginary campaign promises.

It’s one thing to ask, “Do you hear what I'm saying?”

But it’s perhaps more important to ask, “Do I hear what I'm saying?”

Can I have enough self-awareness and empathy to hear myself through the ears of another?