Graduations are about endings.
Commencements are about beginnings.

Paperwork can tell a story about where we’ve been.
Our vision tells the story about where we’re going.

It’s good to pause to see how far we’ve come.
But life is the unfolding of how we respond to the present moment and the next.

So what will you do now?

Listen for the conversation that’s happening beneath the one being spoken aloud.

The one that’s trying to assert dominance, to express remorse, to communicate kindness, to acknowledge weakness, to show patience, to prove competence, to earn sympathy, to engage curiosity.

What we hear in our ears is only part of what’s happening.

Having the right tools can help.

But it’s not always about the quality of the tools.

In some situations, it’s about the confidence that having the right tools inspires.

That is, it’s not about the quality of the tools themselves; it’s more about the resultant quality of our mind.

One approach might be to remind yourself of past failures. To acknowledge personal shortcomings. To note any missing qualifications and lack of expertise.

Start there.

See what that gets you.

Alternatively, you can trust yourself. You can lean into the skills you already have. You can call to mind the many times you’ve done well. The times you’ve succeeded. The times you’ve created beauty. The times you’ve contributed to something remarkable.

With practice, we can default more often to this second way. And when we do, it becomes a virtuous cycle.

We can hold on to pessimism. We can bet against ourselves. But if we’re right, how does that help? And if we’re wrong, then what was the use?

Better instead to rally behind our best selves.

Whenever we use the phrase, “I should …” it’s worth pausing to trace its source.

Where does the “should” come from? What’s its origin?

When we discover it, we might carefully evaluate whether it deserves such influence.

If you can, create a small sanctuary that is your home.

And if you cannot, create a small sanctuary in a room within your home.

And if you cannot, create a small sanctuary in a corner of a room within your home.

And if you still cannot, then create a small sanctuary in your mind.

And if you still cannot, then choose a single thought whose wisdom can be your sanctuary whenever you seek its refuge.

How we start matters. Or at least, it can matter.

But there aren’t “starting races”. Because starting is not the purpose.

Races are about how we finish.

A strong finish makes a weak start forgettable. And a weak finish can make a strong start irrelevant.

Start strong if you’re able. Finish strong always.

Successful outcomes are often the result of relatively boring steps done well … with a few error corrections and a few moments of brilliance.

It’s never a solid highlight reel.

A good friend of mine is an entrepreneur with keen business skills.

One of his practices that I particularly appreciate is the decision calendar. (I don’t know what he really calls it, but “decision calendar” is an approximate description.)

The basic formula is this: “If x doesn’t happen by [specific date], then y.”

If the contract isn’t signed by September 1st, then we consider the opportunity dead.
If the customer doesn’t reply by next week, we’ll reach out to them.
If we don’t reach our sales goal this quarter, we’ll pause and reevaluate the business model.

By setting a decision to a calendar date, the unknowingness of waiting is made easier. The work isn’t easier, but the question of, “How long do we wait?” is answered.

The practice puts a framework in place that outlines our next steps, acknowledges what’s outside our control, and keeps us from locking into a holding pattern.

H/T RPA

When I was a kid, the only time I would hear Elgar’s Pomp and Circumstance was during my older siblings’ commencement ceremonies. Graduates in gowns and brass instruments filling a cavernous space. These days, you might hear the same tune played during a middle school elevation program, a pre-school graduation, or a certificate presentation at a puppy training seminar.

Generations ago, if you wanted blueberry cobbler, you’d have to wait for blueberries to be in season. These days, you can buy blueberries at the grocery store year-round.

Not too long ago, you might wait until December each year to watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas. These days, you can stream it whenever you’d like.

“Anything you want whenever you want” might sound like a dream, but there’s a certain magic to scarcity and restraint. Special occasions stay special because they’re not part of any-day, any-time, anywhere.

What might you be electively preserving? What are you protecting by not allowing it to be overplayed?

“Finish it up and let’s get out of here!”

This is what the winning coach called out to his team in the final stage of the game.

It’s not a message for a team in chase; they’re busy trying to capture the lead.

But for the team that’s ahead, it’s a focusing thought: “Finish the job, close it out, go home. Don’t make it harder than it has to be. Don’t drag it out. Don’t make it exciting.”

No need to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.

For you: have you developed the skill of finishing? Of locking in and bringing a project across the finish line?

Let the coach’s words cheer you on.

Everything is a trade off. We know this.

If we’re doing one thing, it means we’re not doing (quite literally) countless other things.

And time only moves in one direction.

One of the challenges is that some patterns quietly hold themselves in the mix. As though they’re fixed within each day, and only the remainder is ours.

So we review the inbox, or we watch the news, or we check the necessary feeds, and so on … and only then can we divvy the day.

But it’s a cunning trap.

Each day is ours — all of it. Each moment.

And we get to choose.

Like a judicious chef, ought we not pick the best ingredients and in the proper balance?

“I’m not very good. I don’t think I’ll continue.”

This is a common and natural response. (Why torture ourselves?)

But if we can make even the slightest improvement, then we can shift from a static not very good to a dynamic getting better.

And when we experience improvement — even in small measure — it allows us to see a different future.

Incremental progress is fuel for transformation.

The time I think this is not the time I write this.

The time I write this is not the time you read this.

The time you read this is not the time you act on this.

We live in asynchronicity.

Ancient words may choose today to take root in your heart.

And some of today’s words may only make sense years from now.

Be patient. Everything in its time.

In some situations, “low” prompts immediate attention. In others, it’s an early warning. In still others, it’s part of the natural cycle of things, and nothing needs to be done.

In our personal lives, it takes some knowledge to recognize whether a low indicator is normal, or if it’s a problem that needs to be addressed (and how soon).

Listen to your small creative voice.

When you have the impetus to doodle, doodle. When you feel like humming, hum. When a side-project draws your attention, attend to it. When you want to make a little something or other, make a little something or other.

Because our small creative voice is a tender threshold between what is now and what could be. It’s a gentle invitation into a grander conversation. When we honor it, it rewards us with a deeper connection to possibility. Like a window into a new world, the first step is to peer through its frame.

My flight home was delayed by an hour. The woman sitting next to me was unsure if she would make her connection; she was nearly convinced she’d miss her next flight as a result of the delay.

Reviewing the arrival and departure times, it would be close.

After a reasonable amount of fretting and fussing (the passenger’s, not mine) I offered — in a kind, gentle way — some truth:

“You can spend the next three hours worried and stressed, or you can trust that when we land, you’ll be able to figure out what you need to do.”

Her posture changed and she seemed to relax.

Three hours later, she thanked me, then hurried off as the cabin door opened.

Plans will go pear-shaped from time to time. We don’t have to allow our minds to do the same.

On recent business trip, my colleague’s hotel room didn’t have any hot water. My room, however, had the opposite problem: I didn’t have any cold water. (The shower was scalding and nearly impossible to use.)

Similar to the more difficult situations in this world, it’s not a matter of resources, or availability, or even the willingness to cooperate and share. It’s a complex problem of distribution.

At an unfamiliar restaurant with a crowded bar, we had to ask a server, “Excuse me. Where’s the restroom?” (We hadn’t found it on our own.)

“Oh, it’s easy to miss. Go around the corner and you’ll see kind of a secret hallway. It’s there.”

We later learned: the facilities are unmarked and difficult to locate. The servers had even asked the owner, “Can we please install a sign so that people can find the bathroom?”

The answer: “No. This gives customers more opportunities to interact with the staff.”

Understandably, especially on busy nights, neither staff nor customer appreciate the exchange.

* * *

Sometimes what we find to be annoying and frustrating — is actually what someone else had thought would be a good idea.

“By design” is not guaranteed to be a positive outcome for all.

Our interactions with others are rarely pure, as though built on a blank slate.

Instead, we often pick up where someone else left off. That is, we experience the leftovers of that previous interaction.

So the question might not be, “What did I do?” but rather, “What happened right before I arrived?”

Having a sense of this might not fix every difficult encounter (it won’t) but having perspective helps.