They said, “We have a problem and we need your help.”

“What’s the issue and what are the requirements?” I asked.

The reply was, “We don’t know. We just need to know all the options.”

This is a challenging way to solve a problem. When you don’t know what’s needed or what’s desired, it’s hard to clarify viable paths.

Through some investigation, I learned that the “problem” was actually a potential problem. What the group needed was a contingency plan in case a few circumstances changed.

The learning here is that there’s a big difference between “we have a problem” and “we might have a problem if ... ”

And if we’re not careful, we might waste a lot of energy solving problems that don’t exist.

Sometimes, the thing to do is to pause.

(No, not permanently, or even for a long time. Just for a few minutes. Or ten.)

To pause and to be.

Not to change how we are, but to feel how we are. To know and to experience how we are.

That pause is like a deep breath. A moment of conscious rest.

And at its end, we can begin again. Perhaps on the same path ... or maybe in a new direction.

The pause gives visibility to our options and a renewed connection to our intentions.

In her book The Writing Life, Annie Dillard beautifully reveals that a schedule is like a safe haven within “the wreck of time.” She says, “How we spend our days is of course how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing.”

How true.

If our days are somewhat messy and without much direction, it’s quite likely that those days will string together to form a life that is much the same.

To lead a life of meaning and consequence — that life that we’re called to live — we begin with one day ... or perhaps one hour. Or even this very moment.

(H/T Jason for introducing me to Annie Dillard’s work.)

The story we tell ourselves about “the one that got away” conveniently omits the struggles and hardships, the flaws, and the imperfections. That is, when we imagine the one that got away, it’s rooted more in fantasy than reality.

Whether it’s a big client, or a job, or a career, or a partner, or a property, or an opportunity ... the one that got away is often perfect in our minds. We only consider the good that was not ours to hold.

But that also means it’s not worthwhile lamenting the loss. What we’d be mourning is something that never really existed in the way we think.

When my sons play games, the younger of the two will often shout, “Hey! That’s not fair!”

What he means is that he’s unhappy with an outcome. It doesn’t usually involve fairness at all.

As adults, we don’t need an explanation about the difference between fairness and fortune. But it’s still a good idea for us to keep our emotions in check. It’s quite possible for us to feel like we’ve been treated unfairly, when really we just don’t like a particular outcome.

Fair means fair, usually in the form of impartiality or equal opportunity. It doesn’t mean that we’re guaranteed the outcome we desire.

I took thirty minutes to sit in the shade and read yesterday. In walking back to my office, I paused to recognize: there is gift and blessing in every moment.

Time to read. The warmth of the sun. The ability to breathe, and to physically move, and to make choices. As I walked, my mental list continued to grow.

But one thing was clear: in the best of times and in the worst of times, there are gifts and blessings. And it seemed like a gift, too, to experience a moment when this was so evident.

Choose the difficult path. Choose to face fear. Choose to play the rival. Choose the hard work that’s worth doing.

Once you’ve crossed a finish line you thought you’d never see, you realize not all wins are the same. The best victories are victories hard-won.

Choose challenging.

Wishing does not make it so.

But sometimes, doing makes it so.

If you want to be a writer, write. If you want to be a baker, bake. If you want to be a painter, paint.

Sometimes the barrier to entry is merely making the choice to do something.

You won’t debut as number one in your new field ... but if you don’t participate in that field, you’ll be left wanting and wishing.

Said another way: you can grant some of your own wishes if you’re brave enough to leap.

In generalizing large groups of people as closed-minded idealogues, we ought to be careful that we ourselves are not acting as closed-minded idealogues.

By labeling, deriding, and vilifying, we choke off opportunity for civil discourse.

“Better” does not begin with shutting down and digging in. It begins with opening up, listening, and seeking to understand.

Every success is temporary.

But every failure is temporary, too.

What endures is the story we tell ourselves about those moments. And that story ... we can write it using the language of our failures, or the language of our successes. It’s totally up to us.

You might get lucky; some people do.

At some point, the planets may align and the right things will happen at just the right time ... and your endeavors will get a supernatural boost.

But you can’t wait on your lucky break. You can’t sit idly until that luck arrives. After all, it might not.

The only thing to do is to put in the work. Small step by small step.

Let’s hope you get lucky. But if you don’t, you’ll have taken countless steps along your journey — and that’s significant.

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.