It’s simple: begin from where you are.

Sometimes we get this idea of where we want to be — our destination — and we think about an ideal starting point.

If I began from a different place, it would be easier to get to where I want to go.

Maybe. But you’re not starting from that different place. You’re starting from where you are.

Your intended path might need to pass through another starting gate, but the first step always begins from where you are right now.

Technology enables everyone to produce polished work. With little or no training, we can create shiny things. This means that on the surface, we can all look a lot like experts.

Two things worthy of consideration:

One, the minimum level of expected quality continues to ratchet upwards. Work that previously could have only been done by a production company can now be done from a kitchen table. There’s little excuse for clumsy work when beautiful templates and example programs are at our fingertips.

And two, surface quality does not guarantee actual quality. A slick chart does not necessarily show accurate data. A gorgeous video does not necessarily deliver sound advice. An engaging website does not necessarily have its foundation in facts.

* * *

Polish is independent of expertise; it’s unwise to use polish as the lone metric for evaluating worth.

One day, the pandemic will end. It might not be for a long time, but it will happen.

Where will we be when that shadow is lifted? What will we have done between now and then?

What can we do to not lose sight of the long view while the news of today pushes into every corner of our lives?

* * *

We can’t close our eyes and wait for this to end. The time to be and the time to act is now. Eyes open.

We may shelter in place, but we can shine from where we shelter.

And the others ... those brave souls at the fore who have not a minute to spare to read these lines ... we can shine in gratitude for their sacrifice and for their heroism.

And we can keep the long view in sight.

Even during wars. Even during long-term illness. Even during separation, diaspora, and pandemic.

We still have birthdays. We still pass milestones. We still celebrate ... albeit in different and perhaps unconventional ways.

It’s because throughout the struggle — and there is always struggle — we’re humans rooted in love and connection. In good times and bad, that foundation remains.

Even in darkness, we’re reminded that there’s an enduring light.

Between today and tomorrow, you might receive five emails. Or fifty. Or a hundred.

The total number isn’t significant.

What’s important is this: how many of those emails are relevant? How many are truly important? How many require action on your part?

Seeing a large number of unread messages can cause immediate stress.

But often, there’s a lot of noise mixed in with the few things that are consequential.

And that tends to be true for a lot of things in life.

The challenge is not letting the noise run the show.

Consider your expression when you’re surprised or astonished.

That period of wide-eyed, gaping-mouth shock lasts but a moment. It’s not permanent.

May that physical experience remind us that intellectually and emotionally, we can’t let the unsettling nature of surprise last forever.

Sometimes we’re caught off guard, but at some point — maybe sooner, maybe later — we have to move beyond the surprise and we have to decide what to do next.

How many problems exist because we avoid uncomfortable conversations?

Or because we don’t like feeling uncomfortable in general?

Discomfort is often a signal for what needs our attention.

Attend to it.

We count the sick.

We count the recovered.

We count the dead.

We count the days.

But let us also count the blessings. And the laughs. The calls, the notes, the friends, the smiles ... every meal, every breath, every heartbeat, every moment.

So long as we’re counting, there’s endless good to count, even among the many frustrations and tears.

We don’t like to stand on the wet, slippery part of the rock.

The safer place is the high point where it’s dry and flat.

Of course, there are times when the better plan is to eliminate the rock from the equation — to submerse ourselves in the cool waters and to swim.

When we widen our view, there are often more options than we had first considered.

Some of them are even better.

I went for a walk in February. Two people walking towards me crossed to the other side of the street as I approached. I felt self-conscious and wondered about their avoidance.

I went for a walk in March. Two people walking towards me crossed to the other side of the street as I approached. I felt connected and grateful. We exchanged smiles and waves.

Understanding the intention behind the gesture can make all the difference.

The wish that things will go back to the way they used to be ...

... is a wasted wish.

We have influence on the future, but not so much that we can turn it into the past.

The good thing is, we have the ability to work toward making things better. At any given moment, that options is available to us. And that should give us hope.

It’s less often that we’re sure of a perfect fit.

When we’re putting together a jigsaw puzzle, usually — as we hold a piece — we only have a guess about where it will fit. Even as we place it.

“Hmm. Let’s try it here.”

If we waited until we were one hundred percent certain of the fit, we’d rarely place a piece.

It’s this way with so many things. We don’t really know exactly when things will fit. We make reasonable calculations, but it’s hard to be certain.

And then when pieces do fit, we’re often surprised by where things align and by the new patterns that are formed.

But waiting for certainty and perfection? That’s an awfully difficult way to put things together.

A clenched fist can neither accept nor offer peace.

How can we learn to live with open hands?

And how can we teach others to do the same?

Yesterday, you were going to do great things.

You were going to be your best self. Passionate. Selfless. Productive. Even-tempered. Admirable.

And maybe you screwed it up.

Maybe a little. Maybe a lot.

* * *

Be the first to forgive yourself. Do it completely.

Then, start again.

This isn’t yesterday. This is today, and it’s a brand new gift.

If you can’t see it, then listen for it.

And if you can’t hear it, then feel for it.

And if you can’t touch it, then try to smell it, or taste it ... or merely sense it.

However you choose to find north in turbulent times, it’s important to trust yourself.

Yes, listen to the experts. That’s paramount.

But also trust your own ability to navigate uncharted waters.

You’re the captain of the ship that is you. You always have been, and you are today, too.

When we feel like we’re note being heard, sometimes we want to increase the volume.

If only we were louder, then they would hear us.

But in non-urgent, non-emergency situations … if we become too loud, people sometimes stop listening for content, and they start considering our emotional stability.

Instead of hearing the important message that we so desperately need to share, they begin thinking about our ability to control ourselves.

* * *

Shouting is always communicating. It’s just that sometimes, it communicates the wrong thing.

When things start to go sideways, our instinct is to tighten our grip.

In those times, it’s useful to remember: gripping the steering wheel tighter does not actually give us more control.

H/T Marie

In a recent conversation with a friend, I recalled the phrase related to generosity and self-care: “You can’t pour from an empty vessel.”

My friend brilliantly pointed out the other side of this metaphor: you can’t pour into a vessel that’s full.

How true. A completely full vessel leaves no room for curiosity, vulnerability, open-mindedness, growth, and learning.

It’s subtle, but there’s an important balance between being filled … and not being full.

When we consume news, we never reach a point where we feel satiated. It’s not like consuming food. There’s never an empty plate. And never a feeling of being full.

News is constant. It’s endless and we can’t process all of it.

So it’s wise to set limits. Maybe it’s a few curated email briefings each day. Maybe a trustworthy news program. Maybe it’s just ten minutes of daily reading. Or twenty.

Whatever the strategy, “consuming all of it,” is not viable. The more we try, the more we keep ourselves from doing the work that matters.

By giving ourselves the grace to step away from the news after a period of time — and to abandon the illusion of knowing it all — we give ourselves the ability to take a deep dive into our own endeavors.

A great way to not finish a project is to give yourself endless time to do it.

Instead, mark the calendar. Set a date. Introduce a time constraint.

A deadline is a gift to yourself. Done right, and you’ll have a finished project ... plus the opportunity to start another.

Two gifts in one.