“Slow down. It’s not a race.”

This is a phrase parents sometimes say to children when a task is being completed hastily, or there’s unnecessary rushing.

From time to time, it’s good, too, to ask ourselves: Where are the areas we race ... when it’s not a race? Where we compete ... when it’s not a competition?

And in those places, how can we remind ourselves to slow down and to dial it back?

After all ... not everything is a race.

Attire sends a signal.

• I’m serious about my job.

• I’m relaxing.

• I care about fashion.

• I’m formal, but not too formal.

• I belong to a certain group of people.

Depending on who you are and what you do, clothing choices can be significant.

But it’s important to remember that these uniforms are little more than decoration.

The actual work is what matters. Your shirt and tie may prompt a certain social dynamic, but it doesn’t gift you with business acumen … just as a mock turtleneck doesn’t mean you’re an effective tech leader, and a whistle doesn’t make you an effective sports coach.

We can choose to dress the part if we want, but playing the part — doing the job that’s required — that’s what really matters.

If you’ve lead a caravan of automobiles, you know: keep an eye on those who follow. Use turn signals. Don’t speed through traffic lights which are about to turn red. Allow the group to keep up, but don’t drive so slowly that you create a traffic jam. Set the pace and be decisive.

These guidelines work well on the road, but they can just as easily be applied to offices, organizations, and families.

When we lead, we have to know our followers. To know where they are and to communicate clearly, “This is the way to go. Follow me.”

We have individual experiences and individual memories. Our own perspectives. Our own stories.

But we also have shared experiences and shared memories. And those memories of triumph and challenge — of laughter and tears — there’s something magical about those memories. It’s the idea of “I remember …” being met by “I remember that too!”

It’s not what we remember alone, but what we remember together that strengthens bonds, and nurtures lifelong friendships.

What is the first thing you do when you wake up? And the last thing before you fall asleep?

For many of us, it’s related to our smartphones. Checking email. Scrolling social media. Reading the news.

What does that say about what we value? What signals are we sending ourselves ... both clear and disguised?

If we were to instead start and end our days with a small, intentional practice that aligns with the person we’d like to be — with the best version of ourselves — what would that look like? And what might that do for us in the long run?

Think about what you’re saying. That’s one important thing to do.

But the other part ... the bigger part ... is to think about what you’re thinking.

Why am I thinking this? What does it say about me, where I am, where I’m going, and what I’m trying to accomplish?

What happens when someone screws up and we are affected?

How do we respond when we’re negatively impacted by someone else’s actions?

Often, it has to do with how we interpret the other person’s intention. Whether they had been careful or careless. Whether they are cavalier or apologetic.

And more deeply, whether we can step into their shoes and understand what happened from their perspective. Whether we try to empathize.

When we can see the world from someone else’s side of an issue — or at least try to — we’re much less likely to shout and scream when things don’t go our way. It’s not to say that we won’t be upset or hurt … but we might be able to understand (if but a little) and accept the situation with grace.

You can’t hope things into compliance. If you want something done a certain way — and you're in charge — you need to communicate your expectations.

If it’s procedurally critical or critical because it’s important enough to you ... then put some rules in place. Solicit cooperation.

And if it’s not worth setting a protocol, then it’s probably more trivial than you once thought. Maybe not worth being annoyed in the first place.

How can we say “thank you” without using words? Without material goods? Without gift?

How can we express our thanks through our actions? Our gratitude through what we do ... seen, and unseen?

Our words might be the beginning. But it’s what we do that brings the expression to its fullest height.

From time to time, we decouple ourselves from things we’ve kept in storage. We realize, “I’ll never use this. Why am I holding on to it?” and we take determined steps to donate, sell, or discard the items. It’s liberating. It’s cathartic.

We can do this with other things too. A grudge. A regret. An unhelpful narrative.

We can ask ourselves, “Why am I holding on to this? This is not useful to me.”

And then we can give ourselves permission to loosen the bond. To let it go, and to move on ... liberated.

Where are you seeking acknowledgment ... and not being acknowledged?

Where are you wanting credit ... and not getting credit?

The deeper question is more important: what’s behind that desire? And why does it bother you so much when it’s unfulfilled?

Addressing those questions might help to alleviate some frustration, and you might gain a better understanding of yourself in the process.

If you want a workplace where people say “hello!” to each other when they arrive, then start by saying “hello” to people.

If you want your neighborhood to be the kind of place where people check in on the elderly, befriend the widower who lives down the way.

If you want your children to live in a household filled with music and laughter, put on some music and lighten your heart.

The culture we seek is perhaps not so far from our grasp ... but often, we have to take the first steps.

Years ago, my brother and I were working with two other people to unload dozens of 4 x 8-foot panels of melamine-faced particle board. These panels weighed 95 pounds apiece, and we paired off to carry them from the truck into the job site.

As my brother and I worked together, we unloaded the sheets the same way each time. Our hands and carrying positions did not change from sheet to sheet. Our individual roles stayed constant.

The other pair varied their methods. Sometimes they carried on their right side. Sometimes their left. Sometimes one person was in front. Sometimes the other. Forward facing ... backward facing. They made a choice each time they approached the truck bay.

One pair worked efficiently. The other did not.

I’ve carried that lesson with me. When faced with a task involving repetition, find a good way to do it — the best way you know how — and then do it that way consistently.

Don’t solve a puzzle multiple times when you only need to solve it once.

Sometimes something happens, and we think, “This is terrible. All is lost.”

And indeed, we do experience setbacks, tragedy, and loss.

But there are also times when we can step back and look at our situation through a wider lens.

In some times of trial — maybe many of them — we can find ways to see setbacks as setups to bigger and better things. Like fire that destroys, but also makes way for new life … some of our darkest moments are followed by beauty, light, and opportunity.

It’s all moving forward and if you’re standing still, you’re falling behind.

Make a plan. Set a goal. Consciously be un-stuck.

But don’t just think about what you’ll accomplish in the future ...

Consider this: what are you learning today that will help you tomorrow?

I ran into a friendly acquaintance last week.

He greeted me warmly: “Hey! What’s new?”

“Nothing much.”

Smiling, he said, “Come on, man. Give me something.”

So I answered honestly, and a great conversation followed.

* * *

The interaction was memorable and it reminded me: some people ask questions with intention. When they say, “How are you?” or “What’s going on?” ... they actually want to know.

I’m grateful to have such friends, and it’s the friend I try to be.

When we consider the idea of giving ourselves permission, it’s often about letting ourselves relax or indulge.

But we can give ourselves permission for all sorts of things. The permission to be bold. The permission to be excellent. The permission to speak up. The permission to make change. The permission to try something that might not work.

Many times, we don’t need someone else’s permission; we need our own.

As I reached to put on a pair of reading glasses, I was surprised to see how many smudges were on the lenses. Hadn’t I just been wearing these, minutes before?

A quick bit of lens-wiping later and the glasses were crystal clear.

* * *

It’s not as easy to check, but our vision can get smudged too. Our worldview. Our perspective.

It happens so gradually, that we might not even notice.

But how can we bring more clarity to what we see in the world?

It starts by recognizing the smudges on our lens.

A group without dissent is not the same as a group in agreement. Conflict avoidance is the easier path and people will often choose it over speaking up.

But as leaders, we can cultivate a different dynamic. We can prioritize engagement and candor. We can seek consensus and enrollment. And instead of pushing an agenda, we can turn on lights to reveal a vision and a path.

Then … it’s not, “blindly walk behind me,” but rather, “let’s run together with eyes open.”

If you’re affixing a permanent, visible object — like a sticker or a label — place it carefully.

Not because it really matters, but because it communicates thoughtfulness and deliberate action. It’s a signal.

If your intention is to be casual, then have at it. Slap it on breezily.

But if it “wants” to be aligned, make sure that it’s done that way.

“That was supposed to be straight, but it’s crooked instead,” is only charming in kindergarten and Pisa.