We can exert command and control to guarantee an outcome. Compliance can be compelled using force when necessary.

But we can also earn trust, seek affiliation, and gain enrollment.

If you need everyone in the kitchen, you can drag them there … or you can bake cookies. The outcomes are similar, but the outlooks could hardly be further apart.

“Room temperature” isn’t a set number; it’s a function of the particular room.

Why does this matter?

Because sometimes we feel like we need to be spectacular. That we need to be remarkable, more often than not. And pressure like that can be a lot to bear.

But our average — your specific average — might just be above the norm. Our standard output might just be better than we think. And there’s some relief in that.

Sometimes we’re in the wilderness. This can be exciting (we get to explore) and a little unsettling (when there’s no path and few landmarks, choosing a direction can be a challenge).

Other times, we’re at a crossroads. This can be exciting (these roads lead to different places) and a little unsettling (we want to make sure we’re choosing wisely).

Still other times, we’re at a threshold. This can be exciting (a specific adventure awaits on the other side) and a little unsettling (once we’ve stepped through, we’ve made a commitment).

Life is a series of changes in scenery. Our actions tell the story of how we navigate between what we are doing and what we could be doing. And while we have many tools to help us choose, predicting the future with certainty is never one of them.

An AI bot can answer it.
A modeling tool can render it.
A machine can create it.
A robot can assemble it.

And. Don’t forget: there are things worth doing because you’re the one doing them. You’re the one learning. You’re the one doing. You’re the one creating.

It’s not always a question of whether technology can do it instead. Sometimes, our own participation is the point.

When we’re choosing — whether it’s a new job, a new school, or a new endeavor — we’re not just assessing what is; we’re making a guess about what could be.

What does this new thing promise?
What is the journey that would begin here?

Because every new thing is a story we’ve written in our imagination.

But it’s good to remember that in choosing, we’re often selecting only the first page; the rest is a collaboration yet to be written.

If you budgeted your time and attention the same way as you do your bank account, would you be more judicious in your spending?

And if you budgeted your bank account the same way as you do your time and attention, would you frequently have a zero balance?

We live in a culture where our attention is the prize. Be wary; not every shiny thing is worth the personal cost.

A good idea today might be a terrible idea a year from now.

Timing matters.

So two things are at play.

One, sometimes we need to trust our judgement and act now. Today. The timing is right.

Two, when we revisit an old idea or a long-held musing — and we’re ready to take action — it can be wise to evaluate the present moment. Is yesterday’s good thought still a good thought for today? Is the timing right?

We will have many good ideas in our lifetime; not all of them will be evergreen. Where it makes sense, look for the best-by clues.

We all need a little grace. But we need it in different ways.

Sometimes, we need a little grace in many areas. We’re doing generally fine, but there are a lot of ragged edges.

Other times, we we’re doing pretty well overall, but we could use some grace in one particular area in life.

Like so many things, personal difficulty and suffering can be unequally distributed. They can exist as a permeating layer, and they can exist in small, concentrated places.

The principle here is not in how we accept grace (though we’d do well to remember self-compassion) but in how we extend grace to others. Do so in a broad, benefit-of-the-doubt, generous way. Our job is not to litigate the need; it’s to give freely. And as we do, the reservoir replenishes itself.

It is the better way.

Comparison is said to be the thief of joy.

That makes it seem so simple. Like someone stealing a package off your porch. Or a colleague taking your pencil and you can just take it back. But comparison is more complicated than that.

Comparison is like an elaborate con. It’s a secret heist. A white-collar psychological fraud.

Comparison sneaks in innocently. Naturally. It lures us into simple better-than-less-than judgements about ourselves and others. And then, when we’re not paying attention, it guts us.

Better to handle comparison like an untrustworthy operative. Or a useful but dangerous chemical.

We can’t avoid comparison, but we can contend with it wisely.

I don’t care if Lin-Manuel Miranda knows much about the U.S. tax code.

I don’t care if Kathy Bates can operate a manual transmission.

I don’t care if Mona Hatoum got today’s Wordle. Or if Bukowski knew how to use a sewing machine. Or if FDR knew any baseball stats.

Some things we have to know. Other things we know because we’re interested. And for many things, we simply don’t know and we don’t care.

And that’s totally fine. We don’t need to know everything, nor should we feel like we have to.

Like many things, it’s a balance.

Either way, I don’t like the idea of a world where Lin-Manuel knows the details of Form 1040 Schedule 2 and “Hamilton” was never written.

If your aim is off, you’ll likely miss.

But if you don’t go far enough, even good aim won’t help; the effort won’t have given the goal a fighting chance.

Aim is valuable, but following the journey far enough — that part is even more critical.

“Fast, easy, and cheap. This simple trick (that you can learn for a fee) will give you what you seek.”

And of course, we know that it’s not real.

The more believable promises go something like this:

“It will be difficult. You will face challenges and setbacks. You might even fail. But it will be worthwhile.”

The real work has a marketing problem: it’s not flashy, attractive, or even guaranteed. But we know it’s the path worth taking.

When we’re squeezed, what’s inside … comes out. We know this.

But don’t be misled by the initial stages. Like a bit of separated oil and pigment in a new tube of paint, the first bit of pressure can sometimes produce something ugly.

In time, our substance — our character — will ultimately show up.

Likewise, don’t despair over the dregs. If we’ve been squeezed too long, there comes a time when the remnants are all we have left to give.

Until we replenish ourselves.

I wonder: are you in need of replenishment? How might you attend to that need?

Is the seed ever aware of its fruit? Does it ever fully see the outcome? Or does the soil obscure its vision?

And does the fruit have consciousness of the seed? Does it know of the work that happens beneath the surface?

We are seeds. We are fruits.

We can’t always see the full picture, but we can imagine the infinite web that’s hidden from our understanding.

And we can live knowing of and honoring that connectedness.

“A little window popped up saying my computer needed to reboot for an update. It let me delay the reboot for eight hours. The next time the window popped up, I put it off again. I’ve been doing that for about a week.”

I had this conversation with someone whose computer was in the middle of restarting. Her IT department had wanted to run an update. She had wanted to keep working.

In the end, time ran out and the update was forced.

The situation reminded me of the many times we put off necessary things in favor of other important (or even trivial) activities. Delay, defer, put off … but then we run out of time.

Sometimes it’s a computer reboot. Other times it’s an engine repair. Or a conversation. Or a cancer screening.

“Running out of time” isn’t always a catastrophe. It’s often just an inconvenience. But when we can, it’s best to organize our schedule so that the inconvenience is on our terms at a time we choose.

We might not be able to avoid the inconvenience altogether, but we can at least manage its timing.

I want you to hear.
I want you to know.
I want to say it aloud.
I don’t want to write it.
I don’t think you’ll read it.
I want us all together in the same room.

There are many different (not always related) reasons we gather for presentations. Few of them are because it’s the only way (or the best way) to accomplish what’s necessary.

But sometimes it is. Sometimes gathering is best. And when we do gather, let’s do it with consciousness. Because when we’re intentional about why we’re gathering, then we can organize and plan around reaching those goals.

It catches one’s attention when a blind person begins: “The great thing about being blind …”

He continued:

“The great thing about not having the ability to see with your eyes is — the great opportunity in being able to even better see with your heart.”

— Stevie Wonder remembering the beauty of his friend, singer and pianist Roberta Flack

Framing the walls, laying the flooring, fitting the molding, seeing the rooms take shape — they’re all more satisfying than pouring the foundation.

But without the foundation, everything else is at risk of falling to pieces.

Foundations are where we begin. Principles are where we begin. Not because they’re flashy, but because they allow us to build a cohesive, everything-else.

Some of the best athletes in the world don’t plan for spectacular feats. Rather, they strive to be methodical and reliable. Even boring. They’re spectacular in the moments that matter. But the rest of it is standard protocol. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Excellence doesn’t necessarily come from aiming for spectacular. Instead, it’s often the result of steadfast, everyday work, and a readiness to rise to occasions that call for extra.

In looking forward to an upcoming event, I found myself feeling particularly upbeat. I was a little friendlier than usual. A little more patient than usual. A little more at ease than usual.

It made me wonder: how many people are cranky, impatient, and unkind simply because they’re not looking forward to anything?

And, how can I organize my life such that there’s always something to cheerfully anticipate?