In mid-2020, I went to a store that was at capacity because of social distancing measures. Outside, ten people waited for their turn to enter.

When one patron exited the store, another was allowed in.

I didn’t want to wait in line, but I decided to wait anyway.

Two takeaways:

One. The wait was only two minutes (I timed it). I had considered leaving because the line seemed long. However, it moved quickly. Long lines don’t always mean long wait times.

Two. Just a small bit of waiting translated into an unusual exhilaration when I entered the store. There was some relief. There was some excitement. (I was in!) That short period of waiting outside made the experience of being inside feel special.

Next time you see a line, don’t dismay. It might not be all that bad.

The sign said, “In case of fire, do not use elevator. Use stairs.”

But there was no indication of how to get to the stairs.

Life is often like this. We get the clear message: this is not the way. But further instructions do not follow.

Luckily, we’re not often in a building-is-on-fire situation.

Mostly, we’re just trying to find our way.

Sometimes there are signs and guides. Sometimes there are none. Sometimes we have companions. Sometimes we’re on our own.

Regardless of whether there’s a fire, we can’t just stop, staring at the proverbial sign that says “not this way.”

Instead, we keep moving. We keep testing. We keep seeking better. We keep endeavoring.

Literally, “I leave it up to you.”

In a Japanese sushi restaurant, omakase allows the chef to curate the meal.

It’s a way of saying, “You are the expert. Please delight me. I don’t need to control what’s about to happen. I trust your judgement.”

What happens when we liberate an artist in this way?

And what does it mean for us … when our own creative judgement is given that level of trust?

It could be that we have this kind of opportunity more often than we realize.

“Happy now” and “happy later” can be rival siblings. Sometimes they play together nicely, but there are plenty of times when they act selfishly — often at the other’s expense.

Our job is to be the wise mediator … helping the two to get along as often as possible.

There is more content — good, insightful, worthy content — than you’ll ever be able to consume. Ever.

You can’t read all of it. You can’t watch all of it. You can’t listen to all of it. You can’t learn all of it. You can’t witness all of it.

Not in one lifetime. Not in ten lifetimes.

So what to do?

Curate your inputs.

Politely ignore what’s not of value, and seek out what you love. Follow your curiosity. Trust your taste. Lean in. Find what’s good, beautiful, nourishing, powerful and moving … and swim in it.

Don’t mourn the things you won’t get to enjoy. Instead, soak-in every experience that is yours. And be grateful to live in a world that is — despite all its challenges — endlessly interesting and infinitely delightful.

Are you willing to put forth a little effort?

Or little effort?

The phrases are almost identical, but the meanings — and the potential results — are worlds apart.

$98 is about a hundred dollars. A 350-day streak is just about a year of progress. 22-inches of accumulation is two feet of snow. Close enough.

However, eight reps of lifting a heavy weight is not the same as 10. Those last two reps are the hardest.

The last mile of cross-country transportation logistics — that’s the most complicated part.

And 8.9 meters is not the same as 9.0 meters. One length breaks the world record for long jump. The other does not.

Rounding is easy to do — but that last little bit is sometimes the hardest earned.

The question came out of curiosity: “Whatcha doin’?”

I paused to consider the question.

I was sitting at the kitchen table. Laptop up. Blinds pulled open.

“I’m staring at the tree. It’s starting to bloom. Look how beautiful.”

* * *

I hadn’t intentionally stopped my work to stare out the window, but I was happy to discover myself doing just that.

We need time to pause. Time to stare. Time to simply take in the beauty of nature.

Here’s to doing that more often.

Consider judgement — the thoughts it prompts. The expression it provokes. The physical posture it generates.

Now, consider curiosity — the thoughts it prompts. The expression it provokes. The physical posture it generates.

As you engage with the world, which disposition is yours?

Whose words do you carry with you?

Whose opinions?

Whose wisdom?

Whose joy?

Be intentional about what you allow to remain in your mind and in your heart.

There are times when things fall apart. When we feel like all is lost and we can’t find a way through.

And yet.

And yet we do.

If you’re reading this, you’ve weathered every storm you’ve ever faced.

Every storm. Every dark time.

Somehow, we always find a way.

You don’t need a clear signal on all the channels.

If you’re going to fine-tune, then attend to the frequencies that support you — the channels that see where you want to go and are interested in you getting there.

Let the trolls, critics, and naysayers get lost in the noise.

Google Maps is going to start showing users slower route options — routes that are more climate-friendly based on things like fuel-consumption and traffic.

Faster is better when you’re measuring speed.

Slower might be better if you’re measuring carbon dioxide emissions.

“Better” is always a function of what you’re measuring.

My son played in an exciting baseball game yesterday. With darkness falling upon the field, the game was called with the teams tied.

Later that evening, my son said to me, “I want to work harder. That felt great, but I’m not satisfied.”

I love that kind of attitude. From a ten-year-old, no less.

* * *

What has you feeling unsatisfied? And what’s your version of dealing with that tension?

Losing is not easy.

But there are good losses and bad losses.

In a good loss, you’ve done everything you can. You did your best. Things were reasonably fair and you just came up short.

In a bad loss, you feel like you were cheated — either cheated by others, or cheated by yourself.

It’s the second one that’s harder to take. That you could have been better-prepared. Or more focused. That you had it within you, but you just didn’t do the right things at the right times. Or you were a little lazy and it ended up costing you. Any loss like that is tough to swallow.

We don’t try to lose. But when it happens, let’s make sure they’re good losses.

Exert, recover. Push, relax. Sprint, rest.

It’s the natural rhythm of things. (The body even insists upon it.)

But in addition to physical rest, we need intellectual, emotional, and spiritual rest too. Those areas need their own version of exertion and recovery.

We can’t just go go go. We need moments to pause and to heal — in all areas of our wellbeing.

Give yourself that time to recover. Build that space and protect it.

It’s time to stop waiting for someone to tell you what to do.

“Oh, I’m not waiting for a boss to give me instructions.”

Maybe not. But if you’re pouring through books and scrolling through websites … seeking answers, directions, and advice … it could be that you’ve just decentralized the boss role, outsourcing it to what’s available on the interwebs.

* * *

Don’t stop reading.

But without the influence of books, magazines, or websites, take time to sit quietly with these two thoughts: “this is where I am now” and “this is the direction I want to go.”

Note that it’s not “this is where I am, but I’d rather be somewhere else.”

It’s accepting where we are, pointing toward where we want to go … and taking the smallest possible step in that direction. And then doing it again.

We cannot change the past. We can’t change big things (perhaps that’s easy to accept). But we can’t even change the smallest of things (sometimes that’s hard to accept).

The call to run one play over another in sports. The use of a word that unintentionally causes harm. A split-second decision in driving.

If only we could go back and change that one tiny thing.

Of course, we can’t.

We have now, and we have what’s next.

The past is fixed. Unchangeable. We can choose to obsess over it (and over undesirable outcomes) or we can choose to let it go. To learn. To move on. Or to move through.

While we can’t change the past, we can determine its meaning and its influence upon our future.

In a tightly connected system, you can’t change one thing without the other parts being affected.

Whether it’s an assembly line, a golf swing, a check-in procedure, a line of code — change one thing, and it’s likely to influence other elements.

The risk is that by changing one small thing, everything else falls apart. That the system was built carefully, and the small thing is part of the whole. Designed with purpose.

The opportunity, however, is that one small change can sometimes make the difference between broken and working … or between acceptable and phenomenal.

Sometimes it’s just a matter of changing one small thing in the right way.

In any journey of significant length, it’s rare that a single mode of transportation will take you all the way from start to finish.

At some point, you’ll need to switch modes.

(You can’t park a jumbo jet in the driveway. And likewise, you can’t ride a bicycle on the runway.)

It’s the same with our personal endeavors.

The moxie that got you in the door might not be what finalizes the contract.

The vulnerability that earned trust might not be what builds consensus.

The creativity that generated excitement might not be what establishes a timeline.

Just as different parts of a journey require different modes of transportation, different parts of our endeavors require different skills from our toolbox.