Once, after our flight landed, I noticed an acquaintance take one last sip and then toss his empty water bottle onto the seat.

Knowing the answer, I still asked, “Hey. Is that your trash?”

“Oh, they’ll take care of that.”

I ended up taking care of it, putting the bottle into a recycling bin in the terminal.

It’s true: the flight attendants would have taken care of it. But why add to their burden? Why not take responsibility for our own mess?

The experience made me consider the idea of “they’ll take care of that” as a general worldview.

• The mechanic... will take care of topping-off fluids.

• The caterer... will take care of the dirty dishes.

• The township... will take care of fixing the potholes.

• The teacher... will take care of educating my kids.

• The church... will take care of the poor.

• The government... will take care of the pollution.

• The oppressed... will take care of fixing their own situation.

It’s easy to see how “they’ll take care of that” doesn’t always work.

Sometimes, it’s plainly wrong.

Sometimes we play a wrong note during a performance.

Or we stumble over a word while delivering a speech.

The mistake isn’t important; the recovery is what matters.

Do you keep the meter steady? Do you reset the cadence?

Or do you pull the emergency brake? Stop and grumble? Make a verbal apology?

The professional doesn’t live without error; she just recovers in a way that seems effortless. As a result, no one pays attention to the mistakes… if they’re even noticed at all.

If you come to a creative roadblock with the thought, “I’m not sure I have anything to say. I’m not confident that I have something to put into the world,” then perhaps you’re not engaged with the world.

To create engaging work, we start by doing the engaging. From that will come work that is compelling, and worthy of attention.

So when your mind seems blank (it’s not, of course) go engage. Talk to someone. Interact.

Encounter brings new life. New ideas. New understanding. New inspiration.

One of the problems with missing a deadline is that once you’re late, the tension is released.

There’s no longer a rush to beat the clock. It’s overdue.

And for some missed deadlines, there’s nothing else you can do.

Like missing a flight, once you’ve missed it, you can’t miss it any worse. The plane is gone.

But…

There are some projects and goals that tolerate a bit of flexibility.

If you’re past your mark, set a revised timeline. Do it right away. Put a new due date on the calendar.

Keep some tension in the equation. Some healthy pressure on yourself. If you don’t, you might become practiced in absolving yourself for missed deadlines, and that’s a downward cycle.

So when you can, re-calibrate, and meet that next deadline.

If you’re going to be reading a list of names in public, learn how the names are pronounced. If you’re unsure, ask someone who knows. Take phonetic notes if necessary.

It doesn’t matter how long the list is. Learn each name as though it’s the only one being read.

Here’s the thing: if the event organizers have called for a name to be read aloud, isn’t the critical first step to learn how the name is said?

Do it justice. Read it right.

When you’re waiting for a meeting to begin (that’s right: because you’re a pro and you’ve arrived early) why sit quietly?

Start a conversation.

Don’t talk about the weather.

Share an amusing story.

Discuss something relevant.

Connect.

Don’t scroll through your phone looking at banal posts and emails you don’t intend to read.

Make a connection. In person. With words.

It might be easier than you think.

I love how a voice is unknown until it is heard.

Consider a person in a certain venue, wearing certain clothes, with a certain face, and a certain body-type.

And an uncertain voice; its qualities are unknown.

Until she speaks.

Only then does one hear the timbre of her voice. The way the sound resonates. The language she speaks. The accent she carries.

Her voice may be quite different from what the eyes had anticipated.

It’s the same with art. Until you paint... Until you write... Until you sing... Until you produce... Your voice (and all its nuance) is unknown.

Break the silence. Let your voice do what it’s meant to do. Let it be heard.

Someone will find your work worthless, and he will ignore it. Worse, he might choose to share his opinion with others.

OK. We have that established.

Now, what are you going to do?

Are you going to let the opinion of someone else — an opinion that cost nothing to give, but will cost you everything to absorb — will you let that opinion stifle you?

Or will you recognize that your work... your heartfelt, passionate work... is not so mediocre and unremarkable that it will be accepted universally?

That your work is different? That it will resonate with some, and not with others?

Ignore the critics; they don’t care about your journey.

Besides: your work was never for them in the first place.

Mindless scrolling, reality television, alcohol... whatever it is...

They’re all (quietly) saying, “For now, working toward your goals can wait.”

They’re wrong. They’re lying.

A few minutes turns into a few hours.

A few days turns into a few weeks.

Then months. Then years.

Do the hard thing, and work on your project. Do something that gets you closer to achieving your long-term goals.

All those distractions that told you, “your work can wait...” well, they will wait for you.

The distractions will always wait for you.

Your goals... your dreams... they don’t always wait. Go after them.

When someone requests your opinion while pointing a proverbial gun to your head, he is asking for the answer he wants to hear. It has nothing to do with soliciting your thoughtful perspective, and it has nothing to do with seeking truth. Respond carefully.

Vehicle operators are taught that over-correction can make a problem worse.

If you’re drifting to one side, and you shift quickly to the center, disaster can occur. That abrupt steering can cause the vehicle to lurch out of control.

Gentle maneuvering provides more predictable results.

The same can be said about our daily habits, our interactions, and our personal endeavors.

Erratic piloting could result in loss of control, or a rebound in the direction you were avoiding.

Even if you’re headed in the wrong direction, you don’t want to make a U-turn at full speed. You need to start by laying off the accelerator, and maybe even applying the brakes.

So be sure to adjust carefully. Turn deliberately when necessary, and mind your trajectory.

We count to 100 with children.

We ring-in the new millennium.

We celebrate a 40th birthday.

We watch the odometer turn from 99999.9 to 100000.0.

We announce our first million dollars in orders.

Markers in time. Round numbers. We stop to say, “Look how far we’ve come!”

But it’s not really a stop; it’s a pause. A recognition. A breath. A joyous sound. And then, with determination, we resume.

After all, we weren’t built to stop. We were built to keep going, and we will do just that. Head held high with pride, or head dipped low with grit… we will keep going.

In the northeast United States, it’s the time of year that homes start to need heat. All across the region, people are raising temperatures inside their dwellings.

Many will feel hot air blowing through ducts. Others will stoke fires in stoves or even in open fireplaces.

Some — I say dreamily — will hear the soft 'ping-tink' sounds of hydronic radiators. They’ll feel warmth as hot water passes through welcoming cast iron benches. They’ll feel a heat that somehow reminds them of their childhood.

As it turns out, the delivery matters. A particular form of heat is nostalgic for one person, and institutional for another. Same temperatures... different experiences. The delivery matters.

* * *

It’s true with content, too:

• Cluttered text on wrinkled copy paper is not the same as carefully arranged type on a clean, toothy piece of stock.

• Monotone reading is not the same as a thoughtfully metered recitation with meaningful pauses and dynamics.

• A low-resolution list of specifications is not the same as a crisp, clean datasheet.

The content is important, for sure. But the delivery is where the magic happens. The delivery is about the experience of the readers, viewers, and listeners. The content matters, but it’s often the delivery that makes change happen.

In some ways, voting is like sport.

Winning is certainly a motivator; we want our candidates to win. We want our motions and resolutions to pass. However, there’s also the thrill of participating/fighting/competing/contributing.

We are disappointed when the majority doesn’t vote as we do, but it doesn’t stop us from voting.

Win or lose, we vote because we can, and because we have a voice that needs to be heard.

Teams aren’t just determined by a mess of blurry party lines. There are two, clearly defined teams which transcend the fray: voters and non-voters.

Be on the right team. When you have the privilege and freedom to do so, vote.

Some art students develop skills quickly. They become proficient in their craft. Expert in a variety of media.

The young artist who can create a photo-realistic drawing… The young pianist who can perform a flawless Haydn sonata…

But there is another kind of young artist, too. The artist who has a certain perspective. A vision. A voice. A message that she needs to communicate.

She might not begin with expert skills — those will come with time — but she begins with a need to express something. She has depth. She has grit. Most importantly, she has purpose. Content will pour out from her.

For the other young artist — the one for whom skill comes naturally — her challenge is slightly different. Her challenge is to say something of relevance. To use the skills she’s cultivated to express something that matters. And that can be a paralyzing struggle. “Now that I have the tools of expression, what is it that I want to say?”

Well, as Jodi Picoult says, “You can’t edit a blank page.”

So, the fix? Begin. Put something out there. And then do it again. And again. You’ll eventually find your way.

What’s your balance of input and output? How much do you consume compared to what you produce?

[listening, reading, watching] versus [speaking, writing, producing, performing, creating, teaching]

Our culture will gladly welcome you into the audience. So much so, that you could take your seat and stay there forever.

But our spirit calls for more. Inside, we have a desire to experience, and then to respond.

To be producers. To be artists. To be makers. To put our own work into the world.

If you’ve been focused your inputs for too long, find your output control and open up the valve. You’re ready, and so is the world.

There’s something painters call the magic hour. It’s the time of day when the sun is low, and it rakes across the landscape. The shadows are long, and everything seems to have an enchanting glow.

Visually, it’s stunning. But it can be tactile, too.

If you take a walk during this time of day, you’ll feel the cool of the shadows, then the warmth of the sun, then the cool of the shadows once again.

It’s like walking through miniature atmospheric pools. Your skin becomes sensitive to each spatial transition.

A mindful ramble through nature could easily turn into an indulgent feast for the senses.

Of the people who know you — the people who know you well — is there a common adjective that they might use to describe you? Are there a few words upon which the majority would agree?

Are they right? Is the description accurate? And whether they’re right or wrong, do you want that adjective to be a different one?

Words won’t change it. Saying, “That's not me. THIS is me,” doesn’t work.

You have to show them through your actions. Consistently. Over time.

If, however, the adjective is spot-on and it’s how you’d like to be known in the world, then good for you. You’re doing it right. Keep going.

If not, then change. It’s up to you!

Consider a bicycle traveling at 15 miles per hour. Based on the cyclist’s effort, is that her intended speed?

More specifically, is something hindering her? Is the bicycle working properly? Do the wheels spin freely?

Would she be — with the same effort — traveling 20 miles per hour… except for some debris that’s binding one of the wheels, or a misaligned brake pad?

It’s a good idea to pause your ride from time to time. Assess the mechanics. Determine whether you’re working efficiently. Are there obstacles, or hindrances that slow your progress? Is a colleague creating drag? Is a family member pressing on your brake while you’re trying to accelerate?

Instead of pedaling harder — to the point of exhaustion — get the drivetrains in your life working properly. Correct the mechanics. Solve the problems that are locking up your wheels.

Then go, and pedal hard.

There’s a sequence of events that occur when you turn off a computer. During a “proper” shut down, programs are closed, data are saved, and background applications are paused or stopped. When you go to a menu and select “shut down” the processes that are put into motion are designed to protect your data, and to protect the operating system.

Yanking a power cord or forcing a shut down risks corrupting files and programs. It’s not good for the health of a system.

* * *

We have periods of shutting down, too. We take time to rest, to sleep, to recharge.

Do you have a “shut down sequence” for your body and mind, or is the end of your day the equivalent of pulling the power cord?

Consider the potential value of daily habits and routines that signal your mind: it’s time to rest; it’s time to close internal programs and ongoing processes so that your body can shut down in a healthy way.

After all, you don’t want to wake up with physical and mental feelings of “you did not shut down properly.”