Being present in a meeting can be challenging. Digitally, there’s always someone knocking at the front door. Always someone in the waiting room. Always someone who wants our attention.

It’s our responsibility to temporarily mute those channels. To focus on what’s in front of us. To bring our full attention to the task at hand, and to those who have gathered to meet.

If those topics and those people don’t require our full attention, then our presence at the meeting is only marginally useful. It may be that our time will be best spent elsewhere.

And if that’s not true — if our contribution is indeed needed — then it’s time to set aside distractions and to be fully present.

Yesterday, I watched a mother — with a fluidity that made it seem unconscious — place her hand over a sharp corner as her toddler crawled near a bench.

Had he stood up, his head would have met her hand, not the hard wood.

It made me think of my own journey. I know of many times when people have helped me ... but surely there have been many other times when friends have been ready to help, just in case.

And we can do this too. Being conscious of others. Seeing them for who they are and where they want to go. And being ready to help where we can, should a friend begin to stumble.

To extend a hand when we see another in potential danger ... that’s a dynamic that doesn’t have to be limited to a mother and child.

There’s enough attention. Enough resources. Enough opportunity.

Enough — that you can share. That you can be generous. That you can point to others. That you can help someone else turn the ratchet in their own journey.

Zig Ziglar famously said, “You can have everything you want in life if you help enough other people get what they want.”

Our world is big enough and plentiful enough that we can give selflessly, and still gain what we ourselves seek.

Your temporary discomfort may be an everyday reality for someone else.

Your moment of aggravation may be commonplace elsewhere.

You might experience times of fear, but there are some who live in fear.

* * *

There’s a complex world outside of our own surroundings — a world of which we are a part, if only because we are other humans sharing this planet.

As much as we can, may we cultivate empathy and seek positive change.

My oldest son plays baseball, and he occasionally works with a batting coach. The coach focuses on teaching the segmented fundamentals of a good swing. Once that’s ingrained, a full swing can be practiced.

Here’s one notable part of the coach’s teaching: during practice (following warm-up) he advocates for a 100 percent swing, every time. As hard as you can swing the bat while maintaining proper technique.

Not 90 percent. Not 95 percent. Always 100 percent.

What I’ve observed is that my son needs occasional reminders. Even knowing the objective and thinking about 100 percent, he will drift to somewhere below that mark.

And every so often, amidst the “Good,” and “That’s it!” I’ll hear the coach ask, “Was that as hard as you can go? Can you swing harder?”

Most often, the answer is yes.

Here’s the lesson: even with the best intentions, we occasionally need to ask the question, “Was that my best?” or “Am I giving 100 percent?”

Our auto-pilot runs somewhere less than 100 percent. To be our very best, we need to be conscious and intentional, and to periodically check: Is that as hard as I can go? Can I swing harder?

Many times, the answer is yes.

What exactly does it mean to have a good day?

Is it an uninterrupted string of goodness? That seems like asking a lot of 24 hours.

What if just part of the day is good? Maybe the morning was bad, but the evening was good. Is that a good day? Does the opposite sequence work?

Perhaps good moments scattered throughout the day ... surely that would be a good day. Right? But what if it ends on a sour note?

What about a great day? How many great moments make for a great day?

There are no clear answers, of course. There’s only the story we tell ourselves, and the way we respond to ever-changing circumstances.

The question is this: upon what will you dwell? What will you hold in your mind? Which fleeting moments will you hold in your heart?

The answer will likely tell you if you’ve had a good day.

If it’s dark and you feel like you’re suffocating, it can feel a lot like you’re buried.

But it’s also possible that you’re on the verge of growth. That you’re not buried, dead ... but planted, alive.

That this moment is one of germination. Of transformation.

If you’re within a season of darkness, it may be a sign that you’re growing.

In digital spell-check, there are often three options for a flagged word: correct, ignore, or add to dictionary.

In the world, what do we do when we encounter something that’s different than what we had expected? How do we handle differences in worldview, gender, and attire, for instance?

Are we biased toward “correcting” what we see, assuming that what’s different is wrong?

Do we ignore the difference, moving on as though there’s nothing to notice?

Or do we “add to dictionary”? Do we accept as correct as-is, and seek to learn and to understand?

I often encourage generosity. Giving without counting the cost or expecting a return.

But there’s another side to this: allowing people to be kind and generous to you.

It can be humbling, and maybe a little uncomfortable, but in order for us to create a culture of generosity, we have to allow ourselves to be on the receiving end of it too — to allow someone else to give, and to receive gratefully.

And graciously accepting a generous act can be a kind of gift if its own.

In order for your dreams to come true, you first need to have dreams.

It’s easy to be so caught up in pragmatism that we stop dreaming, and instead of imagining a beautiful tomorrow, we settle into the visible reality of today.

It doesn’t have to be this way.

There’s a tomorrow. Let yourself dream ... and dream big.

I once heard my brother use this phrase, and it stuck with me.

“One car, one driver.”

There can be many opinions on how to drive and in which direction, but ultimately, the responsibility lies with one driver.

This thought is not only useful in an automobile; it has much wider implications. Education. Career. Endeavors. How you choose to interact with the world.

* * *

In the car that is your life — no matter the number of passengers — you’re the driver. Own that responsibility, and relish in the opportunity.

I was doing some work with a website when suddenly, the connection failed. I couldn’t get anything done.

Do I send an email? Do I make a phone call? Open a support ticket? Raise the alarm?

Instead, I decided to shift to another project for a few minutes. When I returned, my connection to the website was working once again, and I was back to work.

In the time it would have taken me to begin troubleshooting and to seek technical support, the issue had resolved itself (someone was likely working behind the scenes to fix a bug).

The lesson here is not to ignore problems. Rather, it’s to know the difference between an issue that needs immediate attention, and a minor hiccup that will disappear in short order.

Yes, raise the alarm when necessary ... but also know that it’s not always necessary.

Be able to answer the question, “Read any good books lately?”

If someone asks you about what you’re reading, you’re engaged in conversation with someone who is curious and eager. What a gift!

When someone wants to hear about a book, they want to learn what you’ve learned. They want to be delighted by what has delighted you.

It’s a great opportunity to be intentional. To spread ideas that are worth spreading.

Be ready for that moment.

I know some people who are annually (and wonderfully) methodical. They have a “once a year I ... “ list.

The lists include things like personal retreats, password audits, goal assessments, and various acts of service or of purging.

* * *

It’s the first of January. What an excellent time to consider positive, intentional acts to repeat every year. Acts that help us to grow, and reflect the best of who we aspire to be.

Consider it this way: “Every year, I [do this] and it’s so important to me — so valuable — that I wouldn’t consider a year without it.”

As one year ends, we often consider what we will commit to doing regularly in the coming year.

Here’s a consideration: how often will we recommit when we falter?

When gym attendance dips in February, will we reset and be present once again in March?

When an intention to meditate turns into “I haven’t meditated for a week” do we have the resolve to begin again?

When we try to quit smoking, is the jig up with the first cigarette?

We can have a confident January-One mentality at any point in the year, even if we’ve gotten off track along the way. No need to wait until the next New Year rolls around. We can recommit right away.

Sometimes, in order to know what’s happening, seeing the message delivered is not enough; you have to see how it’s received, too.

I drove past a man who was pointing at a woman and yelling. It seemed like a fight was occurring.

But then, I saw the woman laughing and nodding her head.

What initially seemed like an altercation was more likely a person telling an amusing story of someone losing his temper.

The delivery told a partial story. It was the reception that brought some clarity to the interaction.

And with us, too, it’s not just our words that matter; it’s the way they’re received that completes the story.

Last night, my dinner was better than normal. The food was excellent, but it was the service that made the difference.

The restaurant staff was so genuinely friendly and so thoughtful in their customer engagement that the meal had little chance to be anything but delicious.

As I reflect upon it, the most enjoyable elements of the experience were the parts that were voluntary. A warm smile. A kind suggestion. An expression of curiosity.

Those extra pieces — what seemed to be improvisation — were what turned a good meal into a memorable experience.

* * *

When we go beyond what’s required, we create a kind of magic that sticks in the mind.

When we’re well-prepared and well-rehearsed, we can become almost too comfortable with the material.

On those occasions, it’s tempting to rush through to the end.

But have patience for yourself. For your own material.

You know the speech, the slide deck, and the lyrics ... but others are experiencing them for the first time. Let them be with it fully, at the pace that’s best suited for the message.

Over time, we don’t get better at predicting the future. It’s not a skill we can learn.

The future will always contain uncertainty.

But we can change our relationship with uncertainty. We can change our ability to navigate what we cannot predict. And we can change the way we think about our decisions and the ultimate outcomes.

While we can’t predict the future, we can develop a posture that will help us to live in that world of uncertainty — even to thrive in it.

The finest ingredients in the world are little match for a sub-par recipe.

The recipe always has a stronger pull over how things will turn out ... be it positive or negative.

* * *

Our greatest challenge, then — and our most worthy task — is figuring out what to do with what we have.