Your heroes are flawed. In ways you recognize and in ways unseen.

Know it. Accept it. “Forgive” it if that’s what you need to do.

Love them even more in that they can be so heroic while still being so human.

(It’s likely that you’re someone’s flawed hero too.)

Heard recently: “I wish we could just sit around the table and hash this out.”

Today, that’s a wasted wish.

We can sit around the table … just not the same way we used to.

A slight shift in expectations of venue, and we can collaborate more efficiently than ever.

No driving. No subway. No plane tickets. No hotel rooms or conference centers.

Just a camera and an internet connection, and we’re around the table discussing whatever needs to be discussed.

We can even sit quietly together if that’s what will feed us.

We won’t always be physically separated. But while we are … we still gather around the table — just in a new way.

Look around. This very moment, you are in the presence of the beauty of creation.

Even more, you are an integral part of it.

You can’t lose that connection, but you can sometimes forget about it.

Don’t.

Much of the world operates because of millions of workers who are cogs in the system. They follow directions, they perform repeatable tasks, and they don’t question the way things are done. “Don’t blame me. I’m just doing what I was told.”

You might ask: Wouldn’t things fall apart without these workers?

Perhaps.

But just because the current systems call for cog-like workers doesn’t mean that you need to be one of them.

How do you know when something works? How do you know if it’s broken?

One way is to listen for the response. In some instances, we know something is working because it generates a visible reaction — a facial expression, a change in posture, a count of likes or shares. Or, we know it’s working because we hear nothing: no news is good news.

When we’re lucky, we’re connected to generous critics. Those who know where we’re aiming, and who can let us know when we’ve missed the mark. “Did you mean to say this, because I think you might have meant to say this other thing.”

Not a troll. Not an adversary. But a fellow traveler who shines light on what we might be missing.

These connections — when you can find them — are golden.

* * *

H/T: my father, who encouraged me to revisit the phrase, “effect change,” and to Nic, who helped me to see a new coding error in this blog’s email template (which I gladly corrected and would have otherwise missed).

Today is February 3rd. Unlike the movie, you are not repeating yesterday.

Today is a new day.

Nothing can be done about yesterday.

We have only today, and we begin again, fresh.

Just like always.

My departure for the office was delayed by a full ten minutes yesterday.

Weekly goal-setting and the morning inbox triage would need to wait.

The unanticipated priority was the need to cut out two cardboard shapes representing two generations of gingerbread men (one adult, and one baby).

“Can you please help me? They are my favorite shapes, Daddy.”

Top of mind for a kindergartener is creativity and play. Not management meetings. Not accounting audits. Just creativity and play.

Here’s to cutting out your favorite shapes, and making sure the important things stay at the front of the queue.

I stopped drinking alcohol for the month of January. I’ve done this for a few years now. Here are my takeaways from this past month:

• I lost some weight

• I generally slept better

• My skin was healthier

• I embraced a more intentional bedtime routine

• I proved to myself that I can change my habits

Most of all, I learned that a little bit of discipline can grease the wheels for other good habits.

Whether it’s directly influenced or not, during Dry January, I also happened to be great about making the bed, flossing my teeth, exercising, and daily reading and writing.

One good thing builds on another.

What good habits are you cobbling together these days?

Maybe start with just one and see what happens.

Midway through a book, I thought, “I don’t like this book.”

Instead of discarding it, I paused to consider: What don’t I like?

Was the content lacking? Was it the style? Was it the way the text was set on the page? The typeface?

Turns out, I didn’t appreciate the writing style. It was too conversational for me. Too many asides.

However, the content was good. I could still learn a lot from the book (which was my intention).

Do we ignore a professor’s genius because we don’t like her glasses? Or a brilliant lecturer because of the way he gestures when speaking? Or a blogger for overusing commas, dashes, and ellipses?

Of course not.

Look past the surface. Ignore the immaterial. Look for what can be learned.

Every minute of the day counts. Michael Lopp says it beautifully:

“... there are no marginal minutes. It is my personal and professional responsibility as a leader to bring as much enthusiasm, curiosity, and forward momentum to every single minute of my day. When I find myself in a situation where the value is not obvious, I seek it because it’s always there.”

I love this. So often we find ourselves in an uninspiring situation, and we hold our breath. Let’s just wait this out. It will be over soon, and we’ll be back to finding what’s meaningful.

But there are no marginal minutes. All the minutes are valuable.

Be someone who learns. Be curious. Be alive.

And seek the value; it’s always there.

There’s a 30-yard corridor in my office building.

For the past week, any time I’ve navigated this hallway, I’ve skipped. Literally. Not walking, but skipping. And not casually, either. Sky-high, in-it-to-win-it skipping.

Did you know: it’s nearly impossible to skip angrily? In fact, it’s almost impossible to do it without smiling.

Skipping is just a placeholder. There are lots of ways to bring small, unnecessary moments of joy to the day.

I hope you’ll try something silly of your own. It’s totally worth it.

Think before you say, “yes.”

It’s easy to agree to something quick and near-term. (We’re often eager to help.)

But what about the long-term yesses that are still pending? Those important, non-urgent issues that need our attention … but perhaps not immediately?

Let’s make sure the urgent requests of today don’t continually steal from the fire that feeds tomorrow and beyond.

In telling about a recent job, a photographer friend explained that he was, “shooting heavy.”

What he meant was that he was taking a lot of photographs. Not recklessly or haphazardly, but mindfully allowing for quantity.

This is in contrast to taking just a few photographs. If you only have one or two shots, that’s all you’ve got. Mess it up and you’re sunk.

In life, we often skew toward thinking we only have one shot. That opportunities are scarce, and we have one chance to get things right.

But many times, we have the ability to shoot heavy and pick from among the best.

I’ve been thinking of my strongest positive influences — the people, dead and alive, from ancient times onward — and how they might interact.

Would they get along? Would they be friends?

I think so.

No, they wouldn’t see eye to eye on everything. But I think they’d find themselves compatible with each other.

Even more: I think they’d be eager to learn from each other.

Perhaps this is a useful lens — a fun way to consider our heroes and influences.

What might x teach y … and how might z learn from both of them?

And what wisdom do we glean from the lot?

A friend of mine doesn’t ask herself, “Do I like this person?”

Instead, she asks, “Do I like who I am when I’m around this person?”

It’s a subtle nod to our internal monologue and the recognition of what we can and cannot control.

I like the shift in perspective.

After someone promises to do something — depending on who it is — you might consider asking one or both of these questions:

“When will you do it?”

“How will you do it?”

So often, the tension is released when someone says, “Yes. I’ll do that.”

Some people have poor scheduling skills. Or they struggle with identifying strategies and logistics.

Or they have issues with both.

Asking “When?” and “How?” is generous. It helps to keep others on the hook and it clarifies expectations for both sides.

Making a promise isn’t doing the thing. Doing the thing is doing the thing … and that often needs a timeline and a plan.

For me, a trip to the art supply store is the act of acquiring dreams.

It’s gathering the promise of creativity.

It’s embracing the joy of what may be.

Blank canvases, clean sheets of paper, graphite, paint, charcoal … all of it. Ready for me to make my particular mark.

So many situations are like that, aren’t they? All that promise. All that potential.

What’s your version of the art supply store? Is it a board meeting? A business plan? A produce stand? A blinking cursor? A Saturday with family?

Lean in and make your mark. The supplies are ready for you.

I was privately working through some possibilities — getting ideas on paper — and I noticed myself thinking more than I was writing.

I was pre-filtering.

Unknowingly, I was judging ideas as good or bad before they made it to the page.

I was conducting a thought exercise with zero risk, and I was still taking zero risks. Nothing to lose, but I was still afraid to “fail” in my efforts.

* * *

When you’re trying to generate ideas, capture all of them. A good idea might be on the other side of a dozen bad ideas. Or a hundred.

Consider the activity like throwing a cast net through your mind. You might pull in a lot of things that you’ll need to throw back, but you just might catch a few trophies.

The second time you do something, it might not be any easier than the first; it might even be harder.

It might be that way for the third and fourth time too.

But eventually, it will change.

“Difficult forever” is not a thing. Something will change. Either the task will get easier, or you’ll gain skills, or you’ll develop technique, or you’ll become more resilient.

It just might not happen right away.

But when you’re doing work that matters, you’re in it for the long haul whether it’s easy or not.

Historians are calling this moment in history “unprecedented.”

Perhaps.

It’s momentous. It’s uncertain. It’s uncharted in many ways.

And yet every great moment in human history has been marked by great change — often preceded by struggle and sorrow … but followed by healing and hope.

Now is a time of new challenges. But it’s also time of old challenges which we know too well.

Today is a new day. If it’s unprecedented, then so be it. May we lean into it with unprecedented generosity, creativity, and determination to build a better tomorrow.