“We specialze in proofreading.”

* * *

There are times when we can be casual, fast, and loose.

But sometimes, the details are a signal. Sometimes, the details affirm (or call into doubt) the promises that we make.

A mistake in the wrong place or at the wrong time can raise a lot of questions about the important work we set out to do.

When it matters — and where it matters — be free of error.

When you’re working on something, you watch it. You track your progress.

Whether you’re building muscle, growing a following, raising funds, or painting a fence. Each incremental step is on your radar.

Conversely, we create a kind of misery when we don’t put in the work, but we still watch, waiting to see a change.

It sounds like a joke. You can, of course, use a pencil with either hand.

The handedness of a pencil has nothing to do with its function; it’s about what you see when you hold the tool.

Nearly every pencil you find will have text that begins toward the tip and travels toward the eraser. For ninety percent of the population this means that the words are presented properly when they hold a pencil in their writing hand.

For the rest of us — the lefties — the words are upside down (except for when we erase).

It’s useful to consider: some things are so natural that they’re invisible. For most people, if the text on a pencil is noticed at all, it will be unremarkable. For others, it will be upside-down, as usual.

Of what other differences in experience are we unaware? What other design choices quietly favor one group over another? Surely, the list is extensive.

“Where does the time go?”

If it’s an honest question, find the answer. Take a day (or even better, a week) and track what you’re doing. Use a simple spreadsheet or a notebook. Use an app or a screen-time tracker if you’d like. Log every fifteen-minute block.

Again, if the question of “where does the time go” is a serious one, then do the work. Not forever. Just until you know what’s going on.

It won’t take long to discover blind spots.

Once you see the big picture, you can decide if there are things that don’t align with your values. Then you can make an adjustment.

But step one is getting clear about what you’re doing with all that time. After all, we don’t have an endless supply.

But we do have this very moment — all of us.

There’s little satisfaction in things that are too easy or too hard.

Things that are too easy become boring and useless. Things that are too hard become frustrating and demoralizing.

We like challenges that are somewhere inside of those edges.

If you’re feeling discomfort, it might not be that things are too hard. It might be that they’re too easy.

Meet uncomfortable feelings with curiosity — not with hostility or resistance.

Feel what you feel. If it prompts discomfort, hold that discomfort (at least for a moment).

Seek to understand. “Why am I feeling this way? What’s underneath that? And underneath that?”

Allow yourself to follow the thread to its origin.

Our feelings are messages, and in a way, we’re the messenger.

Welcome the messenger and see what you can learn.

“When did you last eat?”

A good friend, upon recognizing your off mood, might ask such a question.

But we know it’s not just food that feeds us. For many, creative acts are just as life-giving as eating, sleeping, and breathing. Whether it’s song, dance, drawing, cooking, gardening, problem-solving … it’s different for each of us.

Go too long without having engaged with it, and it shows up on the surface.

Whatever your thing is, remember to feed yourself.

* * *

H/T Allegra

Not having, but wanting. Not consuming, but craving.

Seeking. Striving. Hoping.

We’re wired to lean toward achievement. Toward achievement. The achievement itself never supplies a lasting reward because we’re physiologically biased in favor of progress, not the status quo. And as soon as we level up, we prepare ourselves to do it again.

A certain level of discomfort — paired with hope — is part of the condition of being human.

It’s why we make change happen.

Two branches are without leaves.

One is rigid, but the other is flexible.

One is dead, but the other is merely dormant.

One will decay, but the other will burst forth with life once the seasons change.

Leaflessness only tells part of the story.

What happens when we focus on the fruit without considering the branches? When we focus on the water without considering the container? When we focus on the voice without considering the words?

Where we focus — and when — matters.

It’s easy to be attracted to the sparkle of the outputs. But the inputs, the preparation, the practice and the process … that’s where our attention can make all the difference.

If you run at length, you may experience periods of time when you’re unconscious of your legs moving. You’re just running without thinking about running.

In many ways, this can be good. You’re in a groove. You’re in flow. There’s a natural rhythm to what you’re doing.

As a metaphor, there’s another side to this phenomenon. In some situations, you may find yourself having been running — without the awareness that you’ve been running. Some moment will prompt the realization that your unconscious running is at the expense of your physical, mental, or emotional health.

If ever you discover such things, practice self-compassion. Be a gentle coach. Remind yourself that exertion needs the balance of rest. Even a river, whose flow is constant, will have wide sections of calm. Rest is part of the equilibrium in every natural system, your schedule included.

I discovered a banknote in my jacket pocket. I don’t recall when I put it there, so it was a pleasant surprise.

What sort of things, useful things, do you have that you’ve forgotten about? What tools? What resources? What credit? What trust? What connections? What options? What possibilities?

Take stock if you haven’t done it recently; you might discover some good things you’ve forgotten about.

There’s an old saying …

In management: what gets measured gets done.
In writing: if you can make a sentence shorter you can make it better.
In sports: offense sells tickets, defense wins championships.
In racing: in order to finish first, you must finish.
In politics: you’re entitled to your own opinions, but not your own facts.

There are countless more. When sayings are grounded in wisdom, they seem to hang around long enough to get old. Not all sayings stand the test of time, but some of them are certainly worth internalizing.

You might spend a long time building the perfect campfire — stacking and arranging the wood and kindling with the utmost attention to detail.

But the fire changes soon after it’s lit. To keep it burning, you’ll need to tend to it. To add fuel. To make adjustments.

So it is with many things we pursue. Excellent planning can lay the groundwork for a successful start — but to keep things going, you’ll need more fuel, an ability to adapt, and a willingness to respond as things change over time.

We want to feel better so we can move, but sometimes we have to begin moving before we start to feel better.

We want to feel peace so we can forgive, but sometimes we have to begin forgiving before we start to feel peace.

We want to feel motivated so we can act, but sometimes we have to begin acting before we start to feel motivated.

The end is often where we begin.

Every repetition — every single repetition — is part of a pattern we’re composing.

For each of us, our lives become the story of these repetitions.

In this sense, whether we like it or not, we’re all authors.

The beauty is that we get to choose what we write.

Life gives us lots of lemons.

It’s not that we don’t know about making lemonade. It’s just that sometimes, we tend to overcomplicate the recipe.

My insurance company recently sent me a letter. It looked exactly like junk mail (but it wasn’t).

Times New Roman. Dense text with bold words, italics words, bold italics words, each variation underlined in a different way.

On top of that, the print quality was poor and the paper was cheap.

The whole thing looked like an unsolicited bulk mailer. It was a legitimate correspondence, but I almost shredded it without taking a closer look.

The lesson: formatting matters.

Aside from formal training, there’s a good question that can help guide design choices: What does this remind you of?

The answer to that question can tell you a lot about whether you’re on the right track or if some adjustments are needed.

“How you do anything is how you do everything.”

How do you approach things? What is your way of doing it? What are the fingerprints of your work? Of your life? To say that something has had your influence — what does that mean?

And.

It’s not just the big things; it’s the small things too. It’s not just the public things; it’s what we do privately too. It’s not just when we’re in the spotlight; it’s when we’re behind the scenes too.

How we do any of it bears the mark of how we do all of it.

It’s not static, but it’s throughout.

Consider free-diving in the Great Barrier Reef. The underwater experience is beautiful, but temporary.

You hold your breath. You immerse yourself. The pressure increases as you descend.

One makes these sacrifices to witness what’s under the surface.

So it is with many things in life. We visit physical, intellectual, and emotional places. We briefly inhabit these modes of exploration. But they’re not permanent.

They come at a small cost — a temporal constraint in service of a more lasting sense of wonder and awe.

What limitations might you momentarily hold in order to embrace discovery?