In drawing, the contrast between light and dark creates beauty.

In our lives, it’s not so different.

That we experience pain and suffering at all — not just joy and elation — simply means that we are alive.

An all-star team does not automatically produce all-star results.

What makes teams stellar is not the measure of total skill — it’s how those team members work together.

Assembling an all-star team might be step one.

But step two — the more important step — is optimizing the collaboration, cooperation, and teamwork.

What’s beautiful is that we can all play a part. Everyone on the org chart, everyone in the family, everyone on the team ... we can all work together to be better at working together.

Care.

Care a lot.

Care deeply.

And ...

Let your actions reflect that care.

We fail in little ways. Over and over. Nearly falling, but catching ourselves ... only to fall again.

Of course, this might not be a failure of being able to stand.

It might be that we’re succeeding at walking.

It’s a matter of perspective.

Be an observer. Learn from others. Learn from what they do well. Learn from what doesn’t work. Learn from the mirror, too.

The world — every interaction and every observation — is filled with micro-lessons.

As students, we learn best by paying attention.

I saw a beetle on its back. Its legs were flailing wildly. Feeling sorry for the creature I carefully flipped him over so his feet were on the ground. This must have panicked the insect because immediately, he rolled onto his back and remained completely still.

After a minute, his legs began to scramble again.

Trying to help him once more, I set him on his feet. No luck: in an instant, he was on his back again playing dead (thanatosis is the technical term).

I realized I was not helping.

As I walked away, I watched the beetle return to the strategy he had pursued when I first saw him — legs flying in the air. He eventually righted himself.

* * *

Watching the beetle reminded me: sometimes, for whatever reason, we need to solve things on our own. We’re even willing to sabotage help from others in order that we might find the solution on our own terms.

There are times when we’re just not ready for help ... even if it’s in our best interest.

Today, make something more beautiful than it has to be. More delightful. More delicious. More insightful.

Make it better than it has to be.

As creative humans — as inherent makers and artists — it’s our special role in the world: we get to intentionally collaborate with creation.

Embrace that sacred opportunity.

As I was brushing my teeth, my wife mentioned something to me. I couldn’t hear what she was saying; the noise inside my head was too loud.

But it reminded me: we always have a noise inside our head. Everyone does. Not an actual noise, but an ongoing mosaic of thoughts.

That noise can be positive or negative. It can be helpful or inconclusive. And sometimes ... the noise is so loud that we’re unable to hear others.

In those moments, it’s up to us to consciously turn down the volume. To dial back our own internal voices and to do our best to listen to others. To reserve judgement and calculation, and to hold space for one another so that connection can occur.

The noise is always there. Controlling its volume is a choice we make.

Today is Independence Day in the United States. A celebration of freedom.

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

Beautiful words.

To whom do they apply?

In 1776 and for generations beyond, these words had less resonance for the enslaved, for women, and for non-whites.

To borrow from Orwell, “All people are equal, but some people are more equal than others.”

The promise of equality is a promise not yet fully delivered. A project still in progress.

* * *

It’s a tall order, but as citizens of any country, our job is more than just to laud its ideals. It’s to know our history and to work tirelessly to right wrongs and to create systems and cultures that live up to the ideals we hold so dear.

Knowing a credo is not enough. We must live it, and build it where we are able.

There’s a blues standard written in the 1920s by Jimmy Cox called “Nobody Knows You When You’re Down and Out.” I know of it because of the great Eric Clapton rendition on his Unplugged album from 1992.

Here’s my favorite section:

Nobody knows you when you’re down and out.
In your pocket, not one penny ...
And as for friends, you don’t have many.
When you get back on your feet again,
Everybody wants to be your long lost friend.
I said it’s strange, without any doubt,
Nobody knows you when you’re down and out.

Part of it is perhaps true. When you’re low, people don’t seem to want to be around you.

But part of it has to do with the story we tell ourselves: that things are hard, and we’re alone, and our worth is based on our present circumstances.

And of course, we’re free to let go of that story and to tell ourselves a better one. One of present setbacks and brighter futures.

* * *

This daily blog isn’t a great source for blues lyrics, but singing the blues can be a good thing. Sometimes it’s helpful to have a release, and to let music carry us through the ups and downs of our struggles.

Here’s hoping you’re in a season where everybody wants to be your long lost friend.

If you’re a fielder in baseball, there are two critical parts to making a play: getting the ball, and then knowing what to do once you’ve got it.

That is, “what’s now?” and “what’s next?”

Catching the ball or stopping it from going past you — that’s step one. You’ve got to field it.

But immediately afterwards, you have to decide what to do.

Do you hold the ball? Tag a runner or a base? Or do you throw the ball to a teammate ... and to which one?

The best players not only make the initial play, they know what to do next. They see the field, and they know what needs to be done to achieve the team’s goals.

And here’s the parallel to daily life: it’s not enough to know what to do with what comes at us. Knowing what to do next — or confidently guessing — is critical.

If you want to practice, practice engaging in the act of doing what’s next. Make a play happen.

Do that consistently, and over time, you’ll become an MVP.

Kitchen knives don’t get dull all of a sudden; they dull slowly over time.

Then, one day you notice, “Huh. This thing isn’t very sharp.” And if you’re skilled and determined, you figure out how to sharpen a knife.

* * *

We can get dull over time, too. Our challenge is to make sure we’re staying sharp … and finding our equivalent of a mental whetstone when we realize that we’ve lost our edge.

And if we can make sharpening and honing a regular practice, even better.

An insightful friend asked me, “Are you growing in all the ways you want to right now?”

It’s the kind of question that calls for serious consideration.

Not just for me.

For all of us.

When we’re weighing options, a point comes when we need to stop collecting information and we need to take action.

More research will not help. Additional data points will not help.

The only thing left is to make a decision and to act accordingly.

An asterisk is used to append text, to note an omission, or to reference an annotation.

It’s a way of saying, “Here’s the story, but you need to know this other part, too, in order to fully understand.”

We also know that every event — every piece of truth — can be seen from multiple angles. And every moment in time is a small fiber woven into an endless fabric.

What does this mean? That every line of text that explains human history deserves an asterisk. And that the contextual annotations are deeper and more plentiful than the clean, simple lines they detail.

We simplify history to help teach young children. But we’re no longer young children and the complicated and nuanced footnotes deserve our attention.

When I hear my children shouting, most of the time, I’ll investigate.

Some of their reasons:

• They’re having fun

• They’re hurt (physically or emotionally)

• They’re frustrated

• They think things are unfair

• They need attention (they never have self-awareness of this one)

I suppose these reasons won’t change over time: adults are much the same way.

I spoke to a friend who wants to play and sing for an audience, but he’s hesitant. He feels intimidated by the “local guys in their sixties” who are really great players.

Guessing at my friend’s age, he has about 25 years to develop his skills. Then he can be one of those local guys in his sixties who’s a really great player.

Since he hasn’t developed those skills yet, the best thing for him to do is to start now.

If you don’t speak, you’ll never say the wrong thing.

* * *

The best way to avoid mistakes is to not do anything.

The irony is that “not doing anything” is often a mistake.

Some people will be reluctant to embrace your new idea.

But then again, some people just don’t like new things.

Their opinion isn’t based on the merits of your idea; it’s based on their resistance to change.

I came to a simple realization yesterday.

My heroes are not all about my heroes.

For as skilled and accomplished and celebrated as they are, they’re not interested in themselves; they’re much more interested in reflecting light on others and in helping others to grow.

At their heart, they’re teachers, mentors, educators, and coaches.

Selfless. Other-focused.

And servant-leaders — every one of them.