November 4, 2081. It seems so far away.

Sixty years into the future.

The increment is relevant to my family. Looking the other way — exactly sixty years ago today — was my parents’ wedding day.

* * *

Sometimes looking equally forward can give us perspective on how far we’ve come.

To my mom and dad, who are healthy, together, and faithful readers of this blog: Happy Anniversary! You are loved by many.

Bet on yourself.

Think big. Even bigger.

Aim high. Even higher.

“But what if it doesn’t work? What then?”

* * *

What if it does work? What then?

What has been given to you?

What have you earned?

What have you earned because of what has been given to you?

There’s a lot of overlap.

As much as we like to think there are things we’ve done all on our own … has any of it been without help?

Unlikely.

Even our most personal, hard-earned wins cannot list us singularly in the credits.

Whether today or long ago, there’s been help. There’s been generosity. And we’ve benefited.

We can do that for others, too.

Anyone can coach perfect players.

Anyone can manage flawless employees.

But those players and employees don’t exist.

The best coaches and managers are those who can cultivate greatness within an imperfect team.

It’s not a matter of replacing personnel with those who err less. It’s about seeing the team where they are … and growing, mediating, and coaching them into the team they could be.

Who you recruit is only the first step. Where you take them is the longer, more important work.

A smile can be a tragically convincing mask.

* * *

We don’t just wear masks on Halloween. We wear them all the time.

We are complex creatures. What’s on the outside can easily be at odds with what’s on the inside.

As much as you’re able, be sensitive to that.

The tricky part about being your best self is that it hasn’t happened yet.

The best version you know of … is not as good as what could be this very moment. Or the next.

Your best self is not in the past. It’s now, and it will be in the future too.

When kids draw a picture, they want to show you.

When they learn a song on an instrument, they want to play it for you.

When they pick up a new skill, they want to demonstrate it.

It’s completely natural. Learn and share. “Look what I can do!”

But as we get older, we become more self-conscious. More aware of how we compare to others. More hesitant to seek an audience.

Reconnect with that child-like wonder. Share your imperfect attempts. Not with offhanded self-deprecation, but with beginner’s delight.

There’s no shame in learning. Quite the opposite.

The lead vehicle in the Boston Marathon shows runners the route. That’s how it supports the athletes: showing the front of the pack where they need to run, turn by turn.

But wouldn’t it be even more helpful to just put those elite runners in the back of the truck and to carry them? They could all go a lot faster and it would guarantee no one would get lost.

And of course, giving a ride would not help at all. The whole point is to run, not ride.

* * *

There are many times when giving more help is no help at all. Many times when our challenge is to offer sufficient support and no more.

It’s hard. Because we often like to think that the more we can help, the better.

But that’s not always true. Sometimes “enough” is just right.

It might not be a problem of time, energy, or resources.

It might be that we just need a prompt to begin.

An invitation.

A countdown.

So here it is:

3 …

2 …

1 …

Go.

(What will you do now that the moment has arrived?)

I walked to my car awkwardly carrying a few bags and a cup of coffee. As I walked, I made sure the coffee mug was securely gripped. The bags would be fine if they dropped. The coffee, not so much.

When carrying two things, recognize whether one is fragile. If you stumble, you might have to choose which one to protect, and you might have to choose quickly.

If you’d like to see this as a big metaphor, you can.

From LinkedIn’s automated suggestions: “Congratulate so-and-so for starting a new position as x at y.”

I like the idea of acknowledging friends, colleagues, and connections for landing new jobs.

But I think it would be just as reasonable to have a prompt to congratulate people for leaving positions. To congratulate them for walking away at the right time. To congratulate them for taking a leap out rather than a leap in.

Because walking away can be just as brave and praiseworthy as landing a new position.

The people who can think big are not always the people who can do big.

And the people who can “do” are not always the people who can think.

Yes, there are times we can do both. But magical things can happen when the thinkers and doers come together. When innovation meets production. When ideation meets activation.

Said another way: when our strengths and weaknesses are paired with others who are quite the opposite.

I smile every time I hear this story:

A kindergarten teacher was watching a young boy draw. She was completely befuddled by what he was drawing and said, “What are you drawing, John?”

And the boy said, “I’m drawing God.”

And the teacher said, “Well how can you draw God? No one knows what God looks like.”

And he said, “If you give me a minute, I’ll show you.”

Listen to Chris Staley tell it. Chris is a brilliant human and one of my favorite people. The full three-minute video is worth your time.

Much of what we do is noteworthy, but little is newsworthy.

Then again … love, commitment, generosity, empathy, laughter, forgiveness, integrity, creativity — these things don’t often make the headlines. (They just happen to be among the most important and meaningful things.)

Before you overthink things, try what’s simple and within reach.

While you might like a vacation and all your broken relationships to be mended and all your business headaches to be resolved …

The thing that might provide immediate relief is a few hours of rest. Or lunch with a loved one. Or fifteen minutes at an overlook. Or five minutes of mindful breathing. Or a thirty second hug.

There are often simple things we can do that will make everything else just a little better.

You don’t need a catastrophe to prompt a change. You don’t need to hit rock bottom. You don’t need a crisis.

You can change right now. In small ways or in not-so-small ways.

Change doesn’t have to be forced upon you.

You can make the choice.

Even now.

It annoys me when a customer service agent is unable to help me, but still ends the call by saying, “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

I know the line scripted. But still, it’s the kind of phrase that should come after a win, not after a loss.

* * *

Nine separate customer service agents have been unable to solve a credit issue in one of my accounts. Today, I spoke to number ten. Her response surprised me.

“I can’t correct this immediately, but I know who to contact. And I will do that. I’m a resolutionist. I don’t pass problems on to the next person. You know? I make sure to see it through. And I can guarantee: if you’re patient with me, we will get this sorted out. Give me 48 hours.”

“Resolutionist.” I like that. One employee with that kind of attitude is worth a dozen others who’d rather pass the buck.

Unfortunately, the drafts don’t count.

Yes, they’re important. Yes, they serve a purpose.

But they’re preliminary.

What matters is what we show. What we ship. What we share.

All the preparation is for naught unless we’re willing to put our work out there.

I had a long conversation where, regrettably, I did not use the words, “I want …”

I knew what I wanted, but I didn’t use the phrase directly.

Now that the conversation has passed, I think about how much better it might have been had I stated clearly:

Here’s what I want to happen.

or

This is what I want.

It’s easy to get caught up in laying out facts and explaining situations — so much so that we forget to state what we want.

Sometimes the most useful thing to do is to just come out and say it.

Part of the artist’s challenge is knowing when to insert punctuation.

Is this project ongoing? Is there more here? Is it finished? Should I keep going? Should I start over? Or start a new version? Or answer a different question?

A song. A painting. A performance. A photograph. A paragraph.

When is its expression complete? How do we know?

It’s all part of the artist’s journey.

And we’re all artists.