Alexandre Desplat wrote the score for Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio to be performed with only certain instruments, not a full symphony orchestra.

No brass. No cymbals. Only wood-based instruments like woodwinds, guitar, piano, and a wooden accordion. The music itself is native to the world of Geppetto, the woodworker, and the boy made out of wood.

This musical constraint is as beautiful as it is fitting. It’s a foundational layer of meaning. It’s not explicitly told to the viewer, but it seamlessly contributes to the effectiveness and nuance of the work.

Sometimes circumstances present constraints. Other times, we intentionally adopt constraints in service of a conceptual goal.

In a culture that often praises “select all” and the idea of unlimited choice, it’s refreshing to see creative constraint used to add such meaning and depth.

If you knew your words would cling to someone else and take root in their heart, what would you say?

Because sometime words — even words said in passing — sometimes words do that.

Sometimes we learn one skill only to learn that a related, secondary skill is where we truly shine.

For instance, in learning how to cook, you might find that you’re a great entertainer.

Or in learning how to teach, you might find that you’re an excellent public speaker.

Or in learning how to design websites, you might find that you’re a capable marketer.

Whether you’re learning news skills or you’re already a seasoned professional, keep an awareness of secondary skills. In some cases, that may be where your more remarkable strengths reside.

Last month, my youngest son wrote down his plans for a particular Saturday. It went like this:

8:40. Oatmeal.
9:00. Ask to go to bookstore.
10:00. Ask for screen time. Yes or no.
10:35. Run back and forth.
10:55. Read.
11:30. Run back and forth.
11:40. Read.
12:00. Lunch.
12:10. Play.
12:30 or 40. Read.
1:00. Play.
1:30 or 40. Run back and forth.
1:50. Read.
2:10. Play.
2:30. Screen time.
3:00. Snack.

When you have a day to yourself, what does it look like? Would others delight at reading your schedule? When it includes, “run back and forth,” is it literal? (For a seven-year-old, it certainly is.)

Do you schedule enough time for play? If not, you might consider an adjustment.

It’s natural to wonder why someone leaves.

“What am I doing wrong? Is it not good enough?”

And those are valid questions to ask — especially if you’ve just lost a valuable customer, client, or reader.

But you also have to know: sometimes people leave for reasons that don’t have to do with you.

Their interests change. Their needs change. Their schedules change.

Or maybe they were the wrong fit to begin with.

No matter the reason, the more you focus on the person who leaves, the less you’re focused on the many who remain.

“Dress shabbily and they remember the dress; dress impeccably and they remember the woman.”
— Coco Chanel

Beyond clothing, we wear many other things things. Attitudes, worldviews, personas, intentions.

What are you choosing to put on? Does it invite people to see a façade, or does it cultivate deeper connection? Is it for show, or for something more meaningful?

What will be remembered?

To paraphrase a Franciscan priest: “When people say they don’t have time to pray, what they mean is that they don’t think prayer will work.”

It’s not a problem of time; it’s a problem of faith.

And it’s a powerful lens, regardless of our spiritual practice or religious affiliation.

When we believe something will work, we make time for it. Even if it’s inconvenient. Even if it takes priority over other important things.

On the other hand, when we don’t believe in something, or we doubt its effectiveness, or we’re hesitant to bet on a positive outcome — we’re far less likely to hold space for that thing.

Are the circumstances the problem, or is it your perspective?

The solution to whatever it is that’s vexing you might be to change how you’re thinking about it.

This word, not that one. This musical note, not that one. This hue. This mark. This flavor. This angle. This lighting.

For creators, part of the work is in making countless choices based on training, skill, experience, and intention.

Even the choice of whether an opportunity merits creation at all.

In a way, every choice is a creative act. The question is: what’s the choice in service of?

Someone recently asked me, “When did you decide to write a daily blog?”

I answered: “Over four years ago.”

But the real answer is: “Today.”

That’s the way it is with streaks. They’re only streaks because you keep doing them. And to do that, you have to make the decision every day. You don’t wait for the moment; you decide in advance of the moment.

What have you already decided upon today?

In my studio, it regularly takes me longer to build something than I think it will. In my mind, a project will take a few hours, but it really takes a couple days. In my mind, the commission will take a few weeks, but it really takes a couple months. It’s always longer than what’s in my head. Chalk it up to endless optimism.

The flipside is that some things can happen right away … but in my mind, I imagine they will take a long time. Like telling myself a new story. Like changing my mind about something I believe. Like adopting a new intention. These things seem like a heavy lift, but they can happen in a heartbeat if we want them to.

A prompt for the workforce:

“The work I get paid for _______ the work I love.”

What fills in the blank?

• is (or is not)

• supports

• funds

• informs

• enhances

• is not related to

• distracts from

• conflicts with

• denies

• has become

• used to be

It’s different for everyone. For you, are you comfortable with the words that fill the blank?

If not, what might you consider changing?

When I’m playing catch with my sons, the rule is, you have to end on a catch.

Sometimes, when it’s time to go inside — wouldn’t you know it — one of them quickly develops the tendency to drop a perfectly thrown ball.

“Oops?”

When we want the game to continue, sometimes we fail on purpose.

This can happen in many areas of our life. Depending on the game we’re playing, sometimes it can be fun to keep it going. Other times, it probably doesn’t serve us well.

Common to large airport terminals, moving walkways can improve a traveler’s pace along a thoroughfare.

Consider how this relates to working alone versus working within an organization.

Alone, your pace is your pace. Each step is the result of your singular effort.

Within an organization, however, it’s possible that your forward motion is complemented by the forward motion of the larger structure. It’s like walking atop a moving walkway.

There’s a tradeoff, of course. In an organization, your influence on direction can be limited.

On your own, there are fewer guard rails, and you get to set the course.

Ultimately, how you like to operate and where you want to go will determine how you choose to travel.

Sometimes the ideas come fast and furious. Other times, they are frustratingly absent.

There’s an ebb and flow in creative work. Each state offers its own challenges.

When ideas are plentiful, it can be difficult to choose a single path. Everything is shiny. Everything has potential. We risk becoming overwhelmed with possibility.

On the other hand, an absence of ideas can be challenging too. The blank page has a way of resisting the first mark. It’s easy to feel stuck.

In the anxious lulls, don’t treat creativity like a lazy servant; see it as an infant that needs gentle care. Be patient and encouraging. Delight in tender beginnings.

And when there are too many ideas on the table, recognize that you’re seeing the infinitude of the universe. Remember that we’re always faced with many choices. That’s a beautiful thing. Sometimes you just have to pick one and go. Choosing all paths is not one of the choices.

All of us stumble; it’s part of being human. But sometimes we catastrophize such stumbling.

There’s a common phrase in Argentina: Un tropiezo no es caída.

A stumble is not a fall.

It’s a simple reminder of hope and the value of having perspective.

The beauty of course-correction is that it can be done at any time.

It requires no special conditions. It promises no particular outcomes.

Yes, it sets a new point on the horizon, but for the near-term, the adjustment is immediate and within reach.

Course-correction is about small changes that will eventually have outsized effects. Let the effects not be our primary concern; instead, let’s focus on the small changes. The long-term positive effects will take care of themselves.

In many situations, faster isn’t harder — it’s just different.

Often, slower is what’s harder … but it can also be more valuable.

Some of the most important and meaningful work we ever do can take only a few minutes or a few hours … but it takes years of gathering up enough nerve to do it.

And that’s OK.

“Many hands make light the work.”

But the hands must volunteer. Or be directed. Or invited.

Without coordination, more hands can become part of the burden instead of the solution.