It’s easy to think of life as a jigsaw puzzle. That once we find the missing pieces, we’ll feel fullness and contentment.

But it doesn’t really work out this way. Some pieces fit together surprisingly well while others are an unexpected mismatch. And some areas remain permanently void — noticeably blank.

What we learn is that the contentedness comes before the puzzle is finished. That the incompletion is part of its beauty. That what we create on our own is far more satisfying than the picture on the outside of the box.

We sometimes hope that life will present itself as a clear tutorial. Or maybe an entertaining documentary.

But life often shows up as a mystery. Or an avant-garde drama. Sometimes a comedy. Occasionally a tragedy.

While we can choose to play our role the way we want, the larger screenplay is not fully ours to write.

Some of the best advice we can take is the advice we offer to others. Some of the best advice we offer to others is the advice we ourselves end up ignoring.

There can be value in scrapping a draft. In making the call: this one isn’t going to work. Crumple it up. Toss it away. Delete.

A fresh start can be exactly what’s needed.

But be careful about doing this with time. That is, “This day can’t be salvaged. Start again tomorrow.”

Indeed, each day always comes to a close. And each night offers a natural reset.

But to call it quits too early — to abandon the whole day because of a few setbacks — is to miss the possibility of some third-act magic.

It’s a difficult reality: there’s not enough time to do everything we’d like to do. Not even if we focus only on the things worth doing. Because there are too many good causes, too many worthwhile opportunities, too many worthy endeavors.

Our interests are varied, possibility is endless, and time is unfairly finite.

All the more reason to choose what matters among what matters — and to eschew the distractions that artfully dupe us into forgetting what’s important and of value.

Nature abhors a vacuum. When it’s not happening easily, maybe the strategy shouldn’t be to force creativity — but to architect a vacuum into which creativity flows naturally.

We don’t really need to walk anywhere; there are enough cars and scooters and delivery options.

We don’t really need to retain knowledge; the internet is always available, and it can tell us whatever we need to know.

We don’t really need to generate ideas; AI can do that faster and more completely than we ever could.

And we’d be fools to follow these tempting paths to their ends.

Physical, mental, and creative atrophy are real.

Doing the work serves a purpose. Just because we can get the work done some easier way doesn’t always mean it’s the best choice.

Remember: the tools are in service of us living; they don’t exist to do the living for us.

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.