Even though we tend to capture everything with audio and video, people rarely press “record” in the earliest, least-proficient moments.

Learning the first chord on a guitar. The first attempt at a poem. The first time a foot is placed on a skateboard.

All these things happen privately.

It’s good to keep this in mind when we first begin and we look to books or the internet to understand what exits in the world. For the most part, what we see is what people want us to see. Usually, it’s the good stuff.

The messy, clumsy beginnings are hidden — and that’s a good thing. But it’s easy to forget when we’re the clumsy beginners and all we see are those with more experience.

If you’re starting something new, stick with it; it gets better.

“Music is too important to leave up to the professionals.”

I heard master guitar designer Andy Powers say this. He’s not the first to say it, but he believes it, and he’s happy to spread the idea.

I’m with Andy.

Let’s make music.

All of us.

Maybe you’ve heard the widely-shared parable about the professor who asks his students to fill a jar with large rocks, pebbles, and sand. The size of the objects is symbolic of their importance.

The lesson is that if you begin with the sand (the small things in life) you’ll never have enough space for the rocks (the more meaningful things). “First things first,” as Stephen Covey would say.

Oliver Burkeman has given me new insight on this concept: it’s a lie.

The problem is not that we fail to prioritize what’s important. The problem is that there are too many things that feel important. Too many worthy causes. Too many rocks.

And yet we must choose. We will never have enough time to tend to everything, so our challenge is to figure out what we will prioritize … and to gracefully let the other things go.

Mourning the loss of all that we will never do is perhaps painful, but it’s necessary. If we don’t contend with that loss, it will continually get in the way of the things we can do.

Sometimes you have to make an intentional design mistake in order to find the edge between what works and what fails.

Part of innovation (the part that’s often hidden from the public) is the necessary off-path probing and out-of-bounds sampling that explores the vibrant margins.

It’s there — through that dance — that creativity thrives.

Many of the roles we play are played not because we’ve been asked, or coached, or appointed … but because we’ve stepped into them — either intentionally or accidentally. Sometimes this happens overnight, but more often it happens over a long period of time.

Either way, it’s not permanent: we can work to change these roles if we don’t like playing them. It just might take some work.

We had a significant snowfall last night. In the morning, I saw a young man clearing a car with his hands and kicking snow away from the tires. With a six-inch blanket of heavy snow, his method was going to take time. Who knows: maybe he was digging out so he could go buy a shovel.

As I reflect upon his situation, a few things come to mind.

One, sometimes we don’t prepare … and our bet doesn’t pay off. Then we’re stuck with the consequences.

Two, when you don’t have a scraper and a shovel, you use your hands and your feet.

And three, paradoxically, getting the tools and resources you need would be easier if you already had them.

I drilled a hole in my wall yesterday and oh, what a mess it was.

The surface of the wall was beautiful. But behind that, there was a lot of loose horsehair plaster. It was a dusty, crumbling headache.

The experience reminded me of a larger lesson: you can’t really know what you’re dealing with until you get beyond the surface.

After the sowing, there comes a time for harvesting and storing.

It seems like a selfish act — all that sustenance going into the silo.

But silos allow us to plan for the future. Or to plan for something big. And those plans don’t have to be selfish at all.

Whatever it is you’re gathering and saving: what’s it for?

When was the last time you had a positive, meaningful experience?

Call it to mind.

Where were you? What were you doing? What was the context?

If we want, we can consciously create these moments. More precisely, we can regularly seek the conditions in which these meaningful experiences are possible.

It’s not to say that these things don’t happen serendipitously. But we can also engage, curate, and set the stage ourselves … externally and internally.

Over the years, I’ve used many different notebooks and sketchbooks: Moleskine, Fabriano, Rhodia, Evernote, Moo, Daler-Rowney. Different styles from each.

Which one is best? Here’s the answer: the one I use most.

Styles and preferences change over time. The constant, however, is the practice. Taking notes. Recording thoughts. Capturing ideas. Marking. Drawing. Creating.

However you do it, and whatever tools you use, the value is in the doing. Whether you choose lines, grids, dots, or an open field … whether it’s case-bound, saddle-stitched, spiral or digital … the important part is that you’re actually using the tool.

A blank notebook on the shelf is just a decoration … no matter how much potential its pages hold.

How close are your words to your heart?

And how close are your actions to your words?

When these things are out of alignment, the internal conflict it causes begins to reveal itself.

A certain peace comes from keeping our words and actions aligned … and in close proximity to our heart.

It can be frustrating. You call a professional and they come solve the problem — for a fee — and the solution is something simple that you could have done on your own.

But remember: that happens once.

Now, you have a new skill. You have a new way to troubleshoot. You have another simple thing to try before you have to call in the experts.

You didn’t pay a service fee. You paid for a lesson (even if you weren’t looking for a tutor).

You can put lots of thought and effort into figuring out how to do things the way you’ve always done them.

But sometimes, new ways are better ways.

All that energy could be put into figuring out what’s best instead of trying to resist the inevitability of change.

As much as we talk about renewable energy, we often forget to include ourselves.

You are boundless. Continually renewable. Always regenerating. A constant cycle of possibility and start-again magic.

What’s going to receive the benefit of your fullest charge today?

The best curiosity is the kind that prompts change.

Changing your mind. Changing your habits. Changing your goals. Changing how you invest your time and resources.

Idle curiosity is just another form of entertainment.

Curiosity that has a bias toward action is where we start to come alive.

If you have a half-dozen interactions with someone, and they don’t remember you …

… that says more about them than it does you.

Don’t think otherwise.

You can’t feed every starving mouth. But can you feed one mouth, one meal?

You can’t give away all of your money. But can you give away one penny?

You can’t abstain for another ten days. But can you abstain for another ten minutes?

You can’t write every beautiful sentence. But can you write just a few?

You can’t solve every problem. But can you solve one problem?

* * *

We sometimes say, “I can’t do anything,” when what we really mean is, “Since I can’t do everything, I won’t do anything.”

But doing everything is never the expectation; it’s impossible.

There is often an answer between the extremes.

The way forward is in finding what we can do — all the way to its edge. In identifying what’s possible and then doing it.

What we know of the past is known through stories — stories others tell and stories we tell ourselves.

They say history is written by the victors. But recent history can lack clear winners and losers. Protest or insurrection? Tragedy or genocide? Self-defense or aggression? Anomaly or trend? Across the globe, the record of what’s happening is sometimes in dispute.

So who wins?

It’s the stories that are told the most.

Could this political phenomenon be relevant to our own lives and our personal history? Most certainly.

The story we tell ourselves most often will shape our past, present, and future. Tell a good one.

It’s fun to be picked.

But you might have to volunteer — maybe a lot — before people recognize what you can do. Meaning, you might have to do the thing on your own before anyone asks you to do the thing.

If you do that often enough, you just might build a reputation. And if it’s a good one, people will seek you out.

Be patient if you’re waiting to be picked. And in the meantime, keep doing the work.

We can commit ourselves to economic pursuits that will enable us to acquire things of art and beauty.

Or we can commit ourselves to economic pursuits that support our own ability to create art and beauty.

Or perhaps we begin with a commitment to create art and beauty.

And economics are a separate consideration.