Three people were at the hospital reception desk. Two were seated behind monitors. The third person, a security guard, stood nearby.

All three were cheery. All three were nice. But it was the security guard who smiled broadly and gave me clear directions on which hallways to take, when to turn, and what to do. As though an administrator had said, “Part of your job is to be like a welcoming doorman. When visitors arrive, treat them like honored guests. Be friendly and helpful. Make sure you smile warmly.”

I’m willing to bet that no one ever gave him such instructions. My guess is that he made a personal choice to take on that role. “Whose job is it to welcome people and offer guidance? Whose job is it to be warm and inviting? I can do those things.”

A certain kind of magic happens when we use our gifts to fill unwritten roles in order to make things better.

“They’re the best losing team in the league.”

Sometimes a team has skill, determination, and drive. But the little things fall apart. Or details are missed. Or the timing is wrong. Or a little bad luck comes into play.

Despite a lot of promise, sometimes good teams come up short. In sport, in business, in politics.

But if a team is really a good team, those losses fuel their drive to improve. The voids created by setbacks aren’t filled with despair — they’re filled in with grit, character, and boundless determination.

“Easier said than done.”

There are many times when this is true. Other times, curiously, it’s the opposite.

But still, sometimes we say things in order to give ourselves the courage to do them. The words become our way of leaning into the action.

I was at a restaurant with my family a couple years ago. After I ordered, my then five-year-old son asked me with astonishment, “Why do you want so many stuff?”

It was a funny occasion. But every so often, I give that question serious thought. Our hunger for food, material goods, money, attention, influence … it can lose its grounding if we’re not careful.

When that happens, it might be good to ask ourselves, “Why do I want so many stuff?” — and to use that moment to better embrace a sense of contentment and sufficiency.

After hearing about Catherine Price’s writing on how to “break up” with your phone, I’ve changed my lock screen.

It now has an image with three questions:

What for?
Why now?
What else?

* * *

What for? Why am I about to use my phone? What am I about to check? What’s the purpose? What need am I trying to satisfy?

Why now? What about my present situation is prompting me to use my phone? Am I bored? Am I anxious? Am I avoiding human interaction?

What else? Instead of looking at my phone, what else could I be doing? How else could I satisfy my present needs?

* * *

I still use my phone plenty. But these questions offer a welcome interruption to an unconscious habit. They give me just enough pause to check-in with myself before I thoughtlessly dive into whatever is behind that screen. This hesitation is sometimes all it takes for the impulse to pass.

You might not have a problem with your phone. But maybe there are other habits you’re trying to keep in check. An afternoon drink. A late-night snack. Unnecessary shopping.

These questions can help interrupt habits like those, too.

H/T Greg

The internet is incomplete.

Despite its infinite coffers, we can’t find every answer using that tidy, rectangular search bar.

Some things just aren’t there.

They’re bound in books that have never been digitized. They’re captured in tightly wound VHS tapes. They’re in the garden or tucked in the corners of our memories.

They’re even yet to be discovered, let alone captured.

And that incompleteness is part of the reason we gather. Part of the reason we share stories. Part of the reason we walk, and ponder, and muse, and reminisce.

The internet contains worlds within worlds — but what matters most is often right in front of us … not through a search bar behind a screen.

Yesterday, I referenced a quote about building someone else’s dreams. One thoughtful reader prompted further reflection.

One thing I didn’t mention is this: there’s nothing wrong with making a decision to help build someone else’s dreams. In fact, that’s often what we do. And it can be a beautiful thing — particularly when we believe in what’s being built.

And in those cases, the dreams of others become entangled with our own. Their dreams become our dreams.

Here’s to dreaming more — together.

H/T Callan

Entrepreneur Farrah Gray says, “Build your own dreams, or someone else will hire you to build theirs.”

This is true.

And the idea can be extended to how we live our days. To what we give our time and attention.

If we’re not guarding and guiding our minds — if we’re not leaning on choice, intention, and reason — the world will be happy to use us for its own purposes, like an unconscious zeitgeist collaborator.

* * *

Don’t let the winds of culture blow you around willy nilly. Don’t be passively sucked into click-bait, endless scrolls, and the 24/7 news cycle.

Set a sail of your own and chart the journey you want to live. Build your own dreams.

It might be too late to become a master in a certain practice … but it’s never too late to start learning new skills.

Don’t forgo a beautiful journey just because you’ve chosen an unconventional starting point. Remember: some of the day’s most beautiful moments happen after the sun begins to set.

From Jon Batiste’s acceptance speech for winning Album of the Year for “We Are” at the 2022 Grammys:

“I believe this to my core: there is no best musician, best artist, best dancer, best actor. The creative arts are subjective, and they reach people at a point in their lives when they need it most. It’s like a song or an album is made … and it almost has a radar to find the person when they need it the most.”

Jon is a beautiful soul who teaches us so much about creativity, joy, humility, and gratitude. He talks about thanking God and putting his head down to work on the craft every day.

Let’s do more of that.

Don’t actually aim to say it poorly. But risk it.

Too often, when we don’t know what to say, we choose to say nothing. And there are times when saying nothing is fine. That is, it hurts no one. It’s inconsequential.

But in difficult situations — when we think we should say something but we don’t quite know how to say it — it’s good to try. The words might not be perfect. They may need to be clarified. But that you’ve tried to put words to feelings … that matters. To the listener and to the speaker.

Last week, I shared some personal struggles with a trusted advisor.

Part of his helpful reply was this bit of gold: “Well, you’re passing the ‘human’ test.”

It can be deeply comforting to be reminded: “These things you’re feeling? These challenges you’re facing? It’s all totally normal. This is part of life.”

That we face difficulties means we’re living. It’s part of the deal. Lean into it. Solve problems, seek beauty, and don’t lose heart.

You’re passing the human test.

I love that my seven-year-old son asks me to draw things. Sometimes he will ask me to draw something from his imagination. Sometimes he will ask me to copy a comic from the newspaper. It’s fun to take on these challenges.

But sometimes, I say, “No.” On occasion, I’ll say, “No, buddy. You can draw that. I know you can do it.”

And after some consideration (and gentle fatherly urging) he ends up giving it a try.

More often than not, he’s really proud of what he comes up with.

I still like to draw for him, but it’s even better when he draws for himself. And better still when we make time to draw together.

* * *

There are times when the generous thing to do is to help not by doing, but by encouraging.

* * *

Unfair situations are a lot more bearable when we’re on the upside.

Inequality is a polite, academic discussion when we benefit from the imbalance.

Injustice is a distressing but tolerable feeling when we read about it instead of experiencing it directly.

* * *

Recognizing our own comfortable seat on a broken ride — whether personal, familial, local or global — is the first step in standing up to help fix it.

The introductory phrase, “Don’t take this the wrong way …” is almost always followed by words that are taken the wrong way.

A different approach might be this: “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I want to share my perspective, and it might be hard to hear.”

It’s a different preamble. It’s awkward to deliver, but it might yield a more helpful conversation.

I heard an “examination of conscience” being read while I was scanning through the radio. One of its questions has stayed with me.

“What is the fundamental orientation of my life?”

The question lives in the world of “personal mission” and “North Star” but it’s more specific and it goes much deeper.

I wonder if you’ve sat with such a question.

It seems like it would be time well spent.

Key Performance Indicators (KPIs) are an important part of a business model.

What are your goals? What are you measuring? What do the numbers say?

But it might be useful to see KPIs on a personal level, too. Not formally, but just as an idea.

You might even discover that, if you were tracking what you believe to be important — at least in some areas — you’re doing pretty well. No shame in giving yourself a pat on the back for that.

I visited a college campus a few years ago, just as the skies opened. I had forgotten that it was supposed to rain all day, and I was unprepared. Finding a visitor’s center, I bought the last umbrella they had in stock — larger than I needed, but perfect for keeping me dry.

When I got to the event I had planned to attend, I propped the umbrella in a corner near the entrance.

And you guessed it: when the event was over, my new umbrella was nowhere to be found.

But I wasn’t bothered. Aside from the rainy walk to the parking garage, I didn’t need another umbrella (I had one at home).

I’d like to think that someone in desperate need of a dry walk spied the umbrella and delighted in their good fortune. I’d like to think that the umbrella continues to be passed (or taken) as needed. A pay-it-forward gamp of sorts.

On another occasion, my wife and I had finished having dinner on a trip to Baltimore. Walking back to the hotel, we saw a man sitting in the rain with a sign telling of his struggle with homelessness. My wife and I looked at each other and silently agreed: this man should have our umbrella.

One umbrella stolen. One umbrella given. Both for the better.

Getting wet isn’t the biggest deal in the world, but staying dry can be of some comfort. My new approach to travel is this: whatever umbrella you carry, let it be one that you’re willing to give away freely.

Permanence … at least, the kind that we often try to create … is an illusion.

Whether it’s a feeling or a circumstance or an ability, everything is fleeting. What we build up — physically, spiritually, intellectually — it’s all slightly leaky. Some of it has more staying power, but none of it is fixed.

So instead of seeking permanence, we focus on maintaining a practice. On finding a posture. On living a philosophy.

And perhaps those things become lasting, along with our reluctant acceptance of the idea, “This too shall pass.”

It’s always been that way.

And even with built-in uncertainty, we can live full, beautiful lives.

Sometimes it’s not vigilance, but us dozing off — and waking with a start — that prompts us to recognize the work that still needs to be done.

These accidental naps (whether literal or figurative) can be a natural kind of preparation.

* * *

Now that you’re refreshed, what needs doing?

(And just as a word of direct encouragement: you’ve got this.)