Some of the most engaging art is born of those whose foundations are external to the arts.

Art has always embraced innovation. It makes sense, then, that creators coming from the outside — people not steeped in history, techniques, and tradition — would be in a perfect position to innovate. To provide fresh ideas. Fresh perspective.

It’s this way with many cross-disciplinary pursuits. Fresh vision doesn’t just come from seasoned experts thinking about what’s next. Sometimes the future path is charted by a new source.

In each of our fields, it can be wise to welcome the outsider who sparks new ways of thinking.

We don’t like to fail. We avoid it skillfully.

But aside from failure, some of us also don’t like to be seen struggling. To be seen trying.

We’d rather practice quietly, and then show up perfect. Fail privately until we can shine publicly.

But what if that mindset keeps us in hiding? What if we’re so afraid of being seen as less-than in public, that we never venture there?

What happens if we become comfortable with the idea of others seeing us trying? With allowing others to see us stumble?

Wouldn’t we grow faster that way? Yes, we might get a few bumps and bruises along the way, but those will heal. (The critics never linger as we improve.)

And over time, we’ll certainly get better. More expert. And we won’t have to wonder what people will think when they see what we do — we’ll already be out there in the open, doing our thing, doing it well, and always getting better.

If being nice isn’t natural for you, then make it a choice.

If you don’t tend to be generous, then choose to be generous.

If there are natural tendencies holding you back, it’s time to intentionally choose a better way forward.

Seeds that are planted cannot be seen. They’re underground. Out of site. Invisible.

What does this mean for us?

It means that the beginning stages of our best work sometimes seem fruitless. That there is no immediate harvest. That at first, the benefits may be unseen.

But just like planted seeds, our work doesn’t remain invisible forever. Over time, it bears fruit ... and it grows into visibility where it feels the warmth of the sun and continues to blossom.

I don’t have a physical trophy room, but I have a mental one. We all do. Memories of our wins and accomplishments. A catalog of our successes — moments when we’ve been at our best.

But we also keep an internal room of our failures. A room that’s often given more space and more light.

It doesn’t benefit us to curate this collection of disappointments, and yet it’s easy to find ourselves in that room taking detailed inventory. Replaying the past as if it was yesterday.

Here’s the thing. We have a limited amount of light to shine. Perhaps we’ll always have a flame burning in the room of our defeats, but let’s move as much light as we can into that other room ... the room that commemorates our victories — the times we’ve soared to our greatest heights.

Tend to that room, and let it encourage us as our journey continues.

You have 10 things worthy of doing today — noble tasks, all of them — but you only have time for five.

There’s no sense in beating yourself up about this. You’re not failing because of the five undone things.

The thing to do then, is to choose which five you’ll do today, and which five you’ll do tomorrow.

Click the corner of this idea and expand it. Enlarge it to encompass all that you want to achieve.

Then, give yourself the grace to wait on the things that need to be put aside while that short list of most important things is accomplished.

Focus on what matters most.

“All at once” works when conducting an orchestra ... less so with producing your life’s portfolio.

If there’s a bowl of tortilla chips separating you and a delicious dinner, you have a choice to make.

Have some chips — maybe some salsa and guacamole — and when the meal is ready ... enjoy all of it.

Or, have a lot of chips — enough to fill you up — and then not have much of an appetite when the main course is served.

* * *

Consider how this relates to the way we consume media and culture.

When we fill ourselves with the banal, the mildly entertaining, the daily gossip, and things which are trivial ... there’s little room left for what’s truly nourishing.

When we prioritize consuming what’s frivolous, we have little emotional and intellectual bandwidth for that which can enrich us and propel us toward our best selves.

It’s not necessarily about completely removing things from our cultural diet (though it could be) but it is about portion control.

During the Thanksgiving holiday in the United States and Canada, we bring our attention to gratitude. There are all sorts of benefits to intentionally acknowledging things for which we’re grateful, and during Thanksgiving, we’re often prompted to mention these things aloud.

There’s great power in speaking our gratitude. It can create beautiful, lasting moments.

And consider this: how much more meaningful might those expressions be if they have an opportunity to be shared privately, one-to-one.

For example, not just saying, “I am thankful for my family,” but speaking our gratitude directly to individuals. To say, “I am so grateful for you. Here’s why.”

Let’s spend time intentionally expressing and embracing gratitude … and not just during holidays, but every day.

And yes, if you are reading this, please know I am deeply grateful that you have invited these words to reach you. Truly.

We’ve heard the phrase before: “This is your big chance!”

But it’s not often that we’re faced with opportunities like that.

More often — as in “every day often” — we’re faced with small chances. Small opportunities.

And while these small chances might not make an impact by themselves, as a whole they can contribute to significant change.

Your big chance might not be a singular moment. It may be a long arc of moments, all working together ... which means, your big chance is right now. This is it.

Titles can be funny things. Some of them are hard-earned. Some are bestowed.

Some people care dearly that their titles be used. Others do not.

Some insist upon “Doctor” while others balk at the acknowledgement of their credentials.

One person may be “Mr. So-and-so” while another is known by just his first name.

What matters most, of course, is the work we do. The way we treat others. The posture we assume.

And truly, living up to our various titles is far more noble than admonishing those who fail to use them.

Do you send a response? Do you celebrate a milestone? Do you post a sign? Do you charge for the service?

In business and in personal relationships, we’re often faced with situations where we could take action a number of different ways (or take no action at all).

It may be tempting to use Google to see what people do. Or to ask others, “How do you handle this?”

But it’s powerful to consider the perspective, “I (we) want to be the kind of person (company) that does it this way.”

Don’t be like everyone else, unless everyone else is doing it the way you think it should be done.

Research if you’d like, but ultimately … do it your way. Remarkably so.

If you want to act like a billionaire, you’ll need some significant resources to pull it off effectively.

Likewise, if you’re going to project yourself as someone who’s “in the know” on a certain topic, you’d better have legitimate inside information to back it up.

But to play the part of someone who is confident, empathetic, kind, or generous ...

We need no extra resources to act in these ways.

We just have to begin.

I was in a bookstore yesterday, feeling a wonderful surge of possibility.

So much wisdom, insight, and potential ... all within arm’s reach.

But we have to crack the books, don’t we? We have to read their contents. We have to allow ourselves to be moved and changed.

The text does not force itself upon us. It’s up to us to take the first step.

Some text is worth reading twice.

Some podcasts are worth hearing more than once.

Some messages are worth consuming so slowly, so deliberately, and so completely, that we accept the words into our hearts and our souls.

When the work feeds us, a single glance will not suffice.

It’s exciting to find new material. To find new authors and new work.

But there’s value, too, in regularly revisiting art that has nourished us in the past.

There’s something wonderful when an image or text is both familiar and new. That we can sit with work we know deeply, and continue to learn from it.

If you’re looking for inspiration, you might enjoy The Art of Possibility by Rosamund Stone Zander and Benjamin Zander or Seth Godin’s Linchpin. I’ve read each of these more than once, and I’ll read them again.

Sometimes there’s an awkwardness that happens when someone’s following us through a door, but they’re not particularly close.

How long do we pause in order to open the door for the next person? A few seconds? Fifteen? Thirty seconds?

It’s kind of odd when I think about it. That our “standard” courtesy only has a shelf life of five seconds or so. That pausing thirty seconds to be kind seems like an unusual effort.

And yet, what if we adopted a new attitude? What if thirty seconds (or more!) was not an inconvenience at all? That we would gladly pause to be kind, civil, and courteous, just because that’s what we do? What if we all began to approach the world in this way?

The chipmunk that just darted into his burrow hasn’t survived this long by standing up to be seen. He hides, and he does it quickly.

“Hide and survive” is a great strategy ... if you’re a chipmunk.

But you’re not a chipmunk.

It’s time to stand up and be seen. The world needs you in it, and you have work to contribute.

I couldn’t find my keys. I checked every pocket. I was wearing two jackets. Maybe an inside pocket? No.

Turns out, my keys were in the pocket of the fleece I was wearing earlier in the day.

No matter how many pockets I checked, I wasn’t going to find my keys in what I was wearing.

There’s a metaphor here. Sometimes the things we need — whether it’s compassion, or patience, or strength, or moxie — sometimes those things aren’t within our reach when we’re wearing the wrong coat (the coat of ego, or selfishness, or resentment, or self-pity). For instance, there’s not a pocket in the coat of anger that has space for curiosity.

It’s worth considering what we’re wearing, and making a wardrobe change when necessary.

We don’t reserve integrity for the glamorous jobs. We begin by bringing our best work to everything we do — even if we consider our beginnings to be humble.

Leveling up starts by doing good work where we are ... not by saving our best selves for when we get to where we want to be.

Of all the things that can hold us back in this world ... why would we let ourselves be one of them?

What’s worse: for some of us, we can be our own worst adversary.

But it doesn’t have to be this way.

Thing is, we’re one obstacle over which we have complete control.

Let’s make sure we get out of our own way.