You don’t need to binge before you fast.

You don’t need to get high before checking into rehab.

You don’t need to indulge in behaviors before you change them.

You don’t need to go all-out before you take steps to get out.

Sometimes, you just need to make the quiet, intentional choice to change.

Mindful over monumental.

Thoughtful over theatrical.

Quiet, resolute steps in the new direction you’ve chosen.

We are movers. Shakers. People who make a difference.

So it’s natural that we want to see the change we create.

We see the landscape, we effect change, and we want to witness the result.

But often, what we see is impermanent. Fleeting. Almost as though we weren’t there at all.

Let’s pause to recognize that sometimes we don’t see the extent of our influence. That we’re often the butterfly flapping its wings … with no awareness that we’ve changed the weather patterns.

Or in another way, we’re creating ripples. And when we create ripples, the water doesn’t hold its shape. That’s not the point.

The ripples we create have a beauty, meaning, and story of their own.

When you’re checking email, news feeds, and social media …

(Not the first time, but the second time. Or the third.)

In those moments, what are you looking for?

And what happens when you find it?

And is it worth the extra time spent searching?

It’s hard to explain this to a child, but it’s worth trying.

“Just because a dozen kids your age don’t appreciate your gift doesn’t mean that your gift isn’t valuable.”

It’s tragic to think how many young dreamers and creative spirits are stifled — all because a cohort of adolescents chose judgement over curiosity, teasing over encouragement.

It’s baked into so many parts of our culture: compliance is ideal, fitting in is a priority, popular is valuable, different is weird.

That one person’s genius — which could perhaps serve the world greatly — might be silenced because of the random sample-set of same-age critics that happen to live in the neighborhood or sit in nearby classroom desks?

I shudder to think that some of the the great change-makers of our future might be questioning their own worth — at this very moment — all because of the critical voices of juvenile gatekeepers.

We must work to fix this.

Knowing what to remember helps to propel us forward.

But knowing what to forget keeps us from getting stuck in the first place.

Don’t just forward information.

Don’t just list the problems.

Summarize the situation.

Synthesize the data.

Ideate solutions.

It’s our job as partners, employees, colleagues, and linchpins … not to regurgitate, but to add value.

I love to sing.

But not every day presents me with an occasion to sing.

Unsurprisingly, I do not receive daily requests: “Please sing something. I’d love to hear your voice. Right now will do.” (Agreed, that might be awkward.)

And yet, the opportunity to sing is there if I embrace it.

The world — yes, “the world” — does ask us to sing. Does ask us to have a voice. Does ask us to contribute.

Like skipping, singing is a placeholder. It’s what we get to do if we choose to do it.

Sure, we can hide. We can keep our gifts to ourselves.

But what happens when we choose to do the opposite?

Choose anyone who’s at the top of their game. An athlete. A musician. A writer. An entrepreneur.

You will be able to find someone (perhaps many someones) who doesn’t like that person. They might even say things like, “I hate her,” or “Ugh. I can’t stand them.”

What does this tell us?

Some people just can’t be pleased. Some people are perpetual fault-finders. And no one is universally loved.

* * *

We have a bias toward the negative. Our ears and our hearts are fine-tuned to recognize criticism.

But let’s use our minds to shut that out. To ignore it. To recognize that some people don’t know us, they don’t care about us or where we’re headed, and their comments aren’t going to serve us well.

The very best of the best is not without harsh critics. That we ourselves are treated harshly by some is to be expected.

It’s not nice and it’s not fair … but it’s not going to keep us from doing our good work.

Last year, I changed the way I create to-do lists: I added a column titled, “Why is this important?”

That simple column changes my mindset.

First, it helps me to keep trivial items off the list. If I can’t identify why it’s important, it doesn’t go on the list.

Second, it helps me to focus on the “why” that drives my action.

I’ve noticed that the “why is this important” column often relates to my identity.

For instance, beside “submit report” I don’t write, “because it’s due.” Instead, I begin to write something like, “so-and-so needs this,” which I edit to, “I’m a responsible colleague,” and then further revise to, “my contribution is valuable to the team.”

Another example: “dust the dashboard and vacuum the car,” isn’t important because, “it’s dirty.” Rather, it’s important because, “I’m the kind of person who takes care of his belongings.”

See the difference?

As I do these mental edits of why something is important, the column begins to reflect who I want to be. The to-do list becomes an affirmation of my best self. “I don’t miss appointments.” “I value learning.” “I take care of my physical body.” “I prioritize family.”

The daily task list becomes more meaningful than a simple checklist.

* * *

The to-do list helps me keep track of what needs doing. The “why” column is what keeps me committed.

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.