If you got what you wanted, now you have work to do.

And if you didn’t get what you wanted, now you have work to do.

Because either way, we’re always going to have work to do.

That work begins today.

People make a big deal out of little things all the time.

But sometimes, a little thing is indeed a big deal.

My daughter voted for the first time yesterday. She was excited and she was proud. At the polling place, the volunteers made a big deal of it, congratulating her on participating in democracy. It was smiles all around.

Sometimes milestones are more like mile-pebbles, but they’re just as worthy of celebration.

Almost always, the choices we have are imperfect. It’s rare that we have many terrible options and one that’s ideal.

Most often, the selection is flawed.

We choose based on strengths, however — since strengths and weaknesses are packaged together — we simultaneously choose shortcomings.

There’s always a menu. There are always choices.

Rarely are either perfect.

“Watch this!” can be the phrase that precedes some kind of physical feat. (Occasionally it becomes the last words before a spectacular fail.)

The phrase creates a useful posture. A moment of performance. A generous tension.

“Here. I’m about to do something. Witness it.”
“Watch: this is a skill I’ve developed.”
“Pay attention. This is for you.”

It’s the prompt. It’s our deep breath before acting in the world.

Whether we say the words or not, we need to regularly place ourselves in “watch this” situations to draw out the fullness of our creative nature.

I was aghast the first time I saw my sister-in-law brew coffee.

I’ve always appreciated the exactitude of measuring grounds and water.

When she made a pot, she filled the water reservoir, poured a pile of grounds into the filter, and eyeballed it saying, “Ehhhh, that should be good.” Seeing my expression she replied, “What? That’s how I always do it.”

And the thing is, it was a great pot of coffee.

It was an excellent lesson. For some things, there’s a wide margin of right ways to achieve great results.

H/T Meg

“Am I allowed to bunt after the fifth strike?”

“Can the second soccer ball be a different color?”

“Where can I stand once I’ve jumped the net to the other side of the tennis court?”

These questions don’t make any sense. And they’re hard to answer. Because once we suspend the rules, how can we then clarify them?

We can work around the rules. We can even change the rules. But once we throw them out completely, we need a new set of rules to understand the game we’re playing.

Does the kitchen staff operate differently when the health inspector is on site? Hopefully not. Hopefully the inspector observes the normal routine — not an unusual adherence to procedures not regularly followed.

But for sure, the staff does operate differently during an inspection. Because we’re different when we know we’re being observed. At a minimum, there’s an increase in pressure and tension. Maybe more conscientious work. In some cases, a bit of anxiety and panic.

Ultimately, observation is a good thing. When we know there’s something at stake, when the outcomes matter, we do our best to show up as our best selves.

Consider:

A group that shares a posture, but differs in their occupations.
Or a group that shares an interest, but differs in their expertise.
Or a group that shares in the same struggle, but differs in their education.
Or a group that shares one belief, but differs in many others.

We’re not drawn together by our sameness, but often by our connection to just one thing — despite our many differences.

A single point of connection can be as strong a bond as any.

Pistachios are sold two ways: in-shell and no-shell.

(Aside: shelled is one of those words that can mean ‘in a shell’ and also ‘having had its shell removed’)

The benefit of no-shell pistachios is that they’re easy to eat. You can eat handfuls of them, one fell swoop at a time.

In-shell pistachios, by contrast, take a little work. Each nut is prised from its protective covering, one by one. As a result, they take longer to consume and there’s a pile of shells that remain.

That pile becomes a visual record, which is helpful. Without those shells, who knows how many pistachios you just ate? (The answer is: a lot.)

Most of what we consume — especially with our eyes and ears — doesn’t have a shell. We don’t have a mound of wrappers for all the links we click, or a pile of refuse from places we’ve scrolled or articles we’ve read. There aren’t leftovers from the songs we’ve heard or the sunrises we’ve witnessed.

But what if there were?

What might those piles tell us?

It’s curious.

As I listened to a radio news broadcast, I noticed the sound of the host inhaling between sentences. Then, I began to listen for it. And I could hear it in the reporters and interviewees too.

Sometimes the inhale was sharp. Other times it was drawn out. Plenty of times it was imperceptible.

Our ear naturally filters these sounds. But surely, before we speak, the inhale occurs. Most of the time, it’s likely audible but ignored.

Soon enough, I realized that I was listening for the breath and missing the content of the newscast.

When we toggle between these modes, it can be fun. Focusing on the subject and filtering the background, then focusing on the background and filtering the subject.

Surely, there are infinite layers to explore. Most of it, most of the time, goes completely unnoticed.

A twentysomething excitedly remarked to her father, “Did you know that on Amazon, you can buy an antenna, plug it into your TV, and watch local stations for free?”

The father (in his sixties) already knew all about rabbit ears.

Technology is funny like this. For someone who wouldn’t know otherwise, old features might seem like new features.

Sometimes new technology layers in such a thick blanket that we forget what’s underneath … or we never even knew.

Singing in harmony is a simple and beautiful reminder: when we work with others, we can accomplish things we could never have done by ourselves.

Our civilization was build through collaboration. When we engage with it directly, it feeds the soul.

Exciting wins aren’t the product of exciting practices.

Our greatest accomplishments come from our ability to consistently engage with the day-to-day work. And the daily work is not always flashy. It can be tedious. Even boring at times. But it is the way.

Beneath every mountain peak, there’s a whole lot of mountain. Learn to love the trek.

Peekaboo. We delight in being discovered and seen.

Hide and seek. We hide when we don’t want to be noticed. Meanwhile, we seek and scroll and search.

Tag. There are plenty of times we play both sides of this game.

* * *

Sometimes, we’re still just like children.

Tuesday was unseasonably warm in central Pennsylvania. Instead of a crisp fall day, it was a sunny 78 degrees Fahrenheit.

Midday, I saw a few people dressed in long flannel sleeves and puffy, warm vests. As though they were dressing for the season, not the present conditions. Clothed for the calendar, not the weather.

* * *

Sometimes our expectations don’t align with reality. We can stick to our initial thinking — like what we decided to wear before we read the forecast — or we can adjust.

We don’t always need to be stubborn.

We want things to resolve beautifully. For things to have a tidy end, perfect and poetic.

But life doesn’t always work this way. Not in the details and not in the big picture.

As much as we’d like the scripted ending, sometimes we’re cut short. And we have to learn to navigate this. Unfinished business and loose ends — this is the stuff of life.

Like it or not, the fi

You might need to spend time with a licensed therapist — talking about specific concerns.

But it could be that you need to spend time with a very good friend — talking about nothing at all.

Both could be effective in producing the desired result. Both could be needed.

But start with the friend.

Good decisions can have poor outcomes.

Poor decisions can have good outcomes.

Win or lose, we can’t count on outcomes as reliable teachers.

The thing you’ve spent years learning — training, struggling, practicing, honing — someone’s going to come along and critique it. Without invitation, without credential, without empathy … they’ll offer an opinion.

And that’s OK.

You don’t have to take it personally. You don’t have to take it at all if it doesn’t suit you.

Your goals, aspirations, and tastes will align with some, but not with everyone.

Listen to what helps. Politely ignore the rest.

The task takes one hour. It will be complete an hour from now.

The task takes one hour. It will be complete in five days, periodically addressed among other tasks.

The task takes one hour. It will be complete in thirty days. Twenty-nine days of avoiding it, and one day where it’s prioritized.

In all of it, the task hasn’t changed but for where it lives on the timeline — and how we feel about it.