We live in a busy time. We’re often over-scheduled and over-extended.

With conflicts and overlapping events, we’re frequently faced with a choice: “Do I attend a or b?” And plenty of times, the event that wins doesn’t win by a large margin.

So if you’re presenting to an audience … a group of people, synchronous, gathered in the same space, giving you attention … it’s a significant gift.

The assembled group has decided: being there with you is more important than being somewhere else.

Don’t waste that time; honor it. Honor it by preparing. By showing up with with intention. By your thoughtfulness in event planning and coordination. By not rambling in your remarks.

Let your audience walk away thinking, “My time was well-spent. I could have been somewhere else. I’m glad I wasn’t.”

Haircut: mohawk, shaved sides.

Build: tall, athletic.

Adornment: aviator glasses, tattoos, t-shirt, cargo shorts.

Expression: stern, determined.

* * *

As I drove through our Victorian town, I was at a stop sign — about to turn left — when I saw this man waiting at the curb. As I motioned for him to cross, that’s when it happened ...

He began walk, flashing a ringmaster’s grin, and offering a gracious bow of thanks, arms-extended, with a flair worthy of Amadeus.

We both laughed, and continued on our separate ways.

* * *

At every moment, we have the opportunity to make magic happen. To be an active participant in life. To make a simple interaction become one that is delightful and memorable.

Look for those moments. Create those moments. Be those moments.

Consider these, separately:

• A fork tapping a wine glass

• The words, “Let us pray.”

• The phrase, “May I have your attention please?”

• A request for volunteers

The first three situations prompt brief silence, and then someone speaks.

It’s that fourth one that presents the most awkward and prolonged silence.

You’re at a meeting. Heads will nod. All will agree: Yes. This is something we need to do. It’s important.

“And who will volunteer to do it?”

<silence>

Many times, we don’t need more head-nodding.

Many times, we need more people to raise a hand and to step forward.

When an average manager hears about a frustration that her staff experiences, she will take note, and perhaps look for a solution.

When a good manager hears about a frustration that her staff experiences, she will prioritize finding a solution.

And when any kind of manager — perhaps through covering a shift or filling-in — suddenly herself experiences the same frustration that her staff lives with ... that’s a problem that will most likely get immediate attention.

“Well, there’s always next time.”

Not always true. Yes, “next time” is a wonderful thought to keep failure and disappointment from crushing our souls. And sometimes we get second chances.

But let’s do our very best with this time. Let’s make this one count.

What’s keeping you from your dreams? What’s stopping you from living the life you want to live?

It might not be your circumstances. It might not be other people. It might not be external at all.

It could be your own self-doubt.

But just remember: this is your story, and you’re the hero.

Stop taking on the role of the antagonist. There are already enough obstacles along the journey. You don’t have to be one of them.

Without education and awareness, it’s nearly impossible to affect change. Even with those things, people ignore calls to action. Often, it takes personal experience ... some sort of conversion.

But education is a critical element.

We have Senator Gaylord Nelson and a team of young activists to thank for bringing about the first National Environment Teach-In in 1970.

To the great relief of those little boxes on our calendars, today isn’t called the National Environment Teach-In. It was the legendary copywriter, Julian Koenig, who coined its enduring name: Earth Day.

And yet we know … a name is just the beginning, and important work remains.

Even the smallest light can begin to dispel darkness.

A simple, small flame has the power to bring illumination to a cavernous space.

And that light ... it becomes a beacon for others.

As others come, the light can spread.

* * *

Candlelight vigils are a beautiful and remarkable scene.

It’s surprising how quickly the light spreads. One or two tapers light a few others, and within minutes, thousands are alight.

So it is — or so it can be — with our kindness, love, and generosity.

The critical moment, of course, is the moment we connect with others. The moment we pass it on.

Alone, we can bring light to a few, but with the engagement of others, we can bring light to entire worlds.

When someone is making a point — and she cites an example to clarify — don’t be the person who latches on to that one example, identifying instances where such an example does not support the argument.

Don’t treat an exempli gratia as though it’s been presented as scientific evidence.

Focus on the merits of the assertion. Focus on the ideas.

Hold back your inclination to say, “Yeah, but ... ” and instead try, “Tell me more.”

Sometimes, when someone donates a large sum of money to an organization, her name is placed on the side of a building.

Other times, a building will be named after a long-time employee or life-long volunteer.

It’s that second occasion that’s more compelling.

How can you bring your whole self into service? To contribute with such excellence that one day, a board of directors would vote to name a building after you?

What if we were able to act as if?

What would it take to bring that level of generosity to what we do?

Not to aim for a naming honor, but to give at that level.

What would it take, and what if more of us were to choose that path?

If you don’t have a plan for today, Facebook does. So do Instagram, Netflix, cable television, and online news outlets. They will gladly occupy your day. All of it.

You’ve probably noticed how many websites (Yahoo, for example) now scroll infinitely. As soon as you reach the bottom of the content, more content is loaded automatically, and you can continue scrolling.

Likewise, television and streaming services often pre-load the next episode to overlap the tail end of whatever you’ve just watched.

If we’re not careful — that is, if we don’t have our own plan — we risk giving much of our time and productivity to media services and advertisers.

If we want to, we can always get on that bus where content is served up to us unceasingly. But we can also choose to drive ourselves — to be selective about where we go, what we consume, and when we get back to doing other things ... like following our plan for the day.

You can tell when the “have a nice day” is scripted. The airline “buh-bye.” Or, “Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

Sometimes our replies feel scripted, too.

Let’s make a conscious choice to be off script.

Let’s choose to be intentional.

As you part ways with someone, if you were tasked with saying something brief, but meaningful, would it be, “Have a nice day?”

Probably not. Not using those words, at least.

* * *

“Say it like you mean it” is an instruction parents sometimes give to young siblings who are compelled to apologize to each other.

But really, if we mean it, we’re more likely to say (whatever we’re going to say) with heart and conviction.

So let’s abandon the script, and say what we genuinely intend to express.

Music has the ability to reach inside our chest and to release emotion that has been denied its full expression.

It can turn a release valve to allow joy, pain, sadness, excitement, anger, love, serenity … to let those things come to the surface and to flow out of us.

There are times when we choose songs based on our feelings … but there are also times when a song catches us by surprise, turning that valve, and there we are — faced with that raw emotion that had been waiting for its moment.

Let it come … and let it go.

I watched a beautiful act Saturday afternoon. Here’s the scene:

Two little league baseball teams on a picturesque spring day.

Two friends on opposing teams — one at bat, the other at shortstop.

The batter’s team is leading significantly, but the batter has not yet contributed.

The pitch... the swing... *crack* The ball sails into the outfield, and the batter makes it easily to second base, smiling as his team cheers wildly.

And without any hesitation, play complete, the friend at shortstop trots over to second to congratulate his pal before getting back into position.

* * *

Character in the face of adversity. Friendship within competition. Young, athletic passion.

It was all there on that baseball field, and it was worthy of goosebumps on a warm day.

When someone is relaying a challenge... when they’re discussing a setback... sometimes we have this pressing thought: “What can I do to help solve the problem?”

But usually, the wise first step in addressing “what can I do?” is to listen.

Don’t start by solving the problem. Start by listening.

A introductory phrase that always pricks my ear is this: “I’ll be honest with you.”

It’s a phrase that is slipped into conversation as easily as, “I’ll say this...” or “Allow me to point out...” or “Here’s my perspective...”

But, “I’ll be honest with you,” signals the listener. It suggests a contrast to other things the speaker conveys. Are those other things less-than-honest?

Sure, in intimate, vulnerable conversation, the qualifier, “Honestly...” can be an effective way of expressing one’s sincerity.

But in general interactions and in business dealings, the phrase, “I’ll be honest with you,” pokes a small hole in the concept of truth and integrity.

Perhaps it’s better, instead, to say something like, “Here’s how I see things.”

We’ll trust that your opinion is an honest one.

If you’ve been following my daily posts from the beginning, you’ve digested over 27,000 words. Today marks the 250th blog post since I started writing in earnest, August 4th, 2018. That same day in August marked fifteen years since my wife and I had our first date. Some momentous occasions for me!

I’m grateful to have begun this writing journey, and I’m grateful for you who read my work. For your words of encouragement. For your kind emails. For this opportunity.

I will continue to post daily. To endeavor to generate text worthy of consideration… worthy of sharing. I hope you’ll continue to read, and that my work will spread to other readers like you.

Thank you for being here. Thank you for hearing me. Thank you for seeing me.

-stephen

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Missed a post? Check out the index to see the titles by date.

The hospital. The veterinarian’s office. The cemetery.

When we enter into places with loved ones, and we leave those places without them, we know that something’s missing. We leave feeling alone.

Our body, numb. Our mind, simultaneously filled and blank.

When we say goodbye to a physical body for the last time, it feels impossible.

And yet our heart sees what the eyes cannot.

While those dear to us are no longer visible to the seeing world, they are there inside our hearts, and visible in all the ways that we honor their memory.

There is so much power in the question, “And what else?”

It’s the idea of taking a conversation to the next level.

Recognizing that not everything is conveyed in the first breath.

Being fully present with another, and caring enough to know what’s happening on a deeper level.

Accepting that simple answers aren’t always complete answers.

Turning on the porch light, and opening the door for more meaningful connection.

New worlds can be discovered if we’re patient enough to ask the simple question, “And what else?”

Recently, a contractor did some work at our home. The crew was professional, and the work was of the highest quality. Their swift, skilled efforts had little impact on our normal household activities. The workers didn’t even use our restroom, as they had brought their own.

And therein, we discovered a fly in the ointment.

For seventeen days beyond the completion of the project, an aged, portable toilet remained upon the stretch of grass between our sidewalk and the street.

For seventeen days, our full enjoyment of the completed work was stymied by the last, incomplete step.

For seventeen days, our satisfaction had an asterisk.

It’s laughable, more than anything. It became a silly conversation piece with friends and neighbors.

But it also points to this: good work — even the best work — can be diminished, if temporarily, by careless cleanup. By a conspicuous, flailing loose end.

It’s a reminder to see a job through to the end so that when the last bit of business is handled, the completed work can be fully appreciated.