It’s difficult to read a menu by candlelight.

Dinner by LED flood light solves that problem, but at a cost.

More isn’t always better.

Better is better.

And there are always concessions to be made.

You won’t always get clear directions, but if you can use a broom, you can always find something useful to do.

The skill is not in waiting patiently for your assignment — it’s in seeing the small ways you can help without needing instructions.

If you only have a little kindness to offer each day, then offer it in the morning. That small gesture has the power to lift the whole day for someone else.

Or offer it in the evening, where it can be the balm that soothes a weary heart.

Or perhaps midday, where it can make blossom an otherwise average slog.

Or maybe all three, because even a small bit of kindness is enough to spread across the hours.

When we’re frustrated, it can be an indicator that we’ve mistaken our position in the classroom. We think — in that moment — that our role is in administration, when we’re actually being asked to learn. That the instruction is not ours to give as the teacher, but ours to take as the student.

* * *

H/T Ajike

Just be careful.

There are tools that can streamline all your correspondence. Software can augment your shortfalls as a manager and clear-minded thinker.

Like a mental prosthetic, technology can be an enabler — helping us to achieve levels of efficiency and proficiency that would otherwise be impossible to do on our own.

But the distance between, “AI, help me,” and “AI, just do all of it for me,” is small. And the latter is not always appropriate.

In a real sense, my generative AI message to you could prompt a generative AI reply. And then it becomes the AI models talking to each other. And we become observers of our own communications rather than intentional participants.

Just be careful.

Because in many areas of life, unassisted humanness is sufficient. Even preferred.

Animals coordinate in remarkable ways. Consider a school of tetras, or mobbing birds, or groups of meerkats.

It’s a wordless expression of, “This is what we’re doing!”

Everyone falls in line. The group acts together. Movement, synchronized.

We can fall into this, too. And it’s not just at the fringes where mob-mentality and groupthink occur.

It’s in our day-to-day. In subtle ways. Like a scent that lingers with us. Or a social marinade that seeps in over time.

And depending on who surrounds us, we can be seasoned into courage and resilience, friendliness and generosity … or tenderized into cynicism, judgement, fear, and complaint.

So it’s worth carefully considering: Who’s in the room? Who walks beside me? Who shares the air I breathe?

Because our independence only extends so far; our lanes are inevitably influenced by fellow travelers and the surrounding currents.

Civil wars. International conflict. Political crises. Widespread unrest.

And yet … throughout modern human history, great artists, philosophers, and humorists have weathered these storms. Even produced remarkable work.

We live in difficult times.

Let creativity flourish, even as peace may feel like a stretch.

Despite its many wonders, the human body probably wouldn’t earn a five-star review.

For one, there’s not a definitive user manual. That’s a problem.

Plus, reliability is inconsistent.

And there’s no warranty.

There are countless manufacturers and an enigmatic parent company …

And yet the body can heal itself. It can self-moderate. It can accomplish remarkable feats. It can surprise and delight.

* * *

Like many things, the reviews will be mixed; some see problems while others see perfection. Because how we see shapes what we see.

You could spend a lot of time looking through a phone screen — waiting for a spark of inspiration.

And maybe it will come.

But spending just a little time looking through a window screen might be a better bet.

It doesn’t always insist that we pay attention, but when we do, nature delivers.

Don’t exhaust yourself talking about the problem.

(Remember that you have to save some energy for figuring out the solution.)

Child: “Look! I drew a rainbow!”

Parent: “Oh, sweetie. We don’t need it. See? That’s been done before. Besides, just Google it. I’m sure you’ll find just what you want — and even better than you could do it.”

* * *

No one actually says this (hopefully not, anyway).

However, as children grow, the message, “Don’t bother; it’s been done,” certainly begins to creep in.

But remember: sometimes the output isn’t nearly as valuable as having participated in the process of its creation.

One way to begin: read some books, take some notes, draw some pictures.

Go to school, of course.

Then, you might take a job as a secretary. Or as a waitress. Or maybe you could work as an assistant at a film production company.

Your work might then finance a 6,800-mile journey to study exotic animals in their natural habitats — a childhood dream of yours.

And you’d be Jane Goodall.

* * *

No one is born Jane Goodall.

No one follows a logical path that leads to being Jane Goodall.

One becomes Jane Goodall. As she did.

And the early work might seem completely separate.

Except that it’s not.

AI-generated art is everywhere. It’s accessible, immediate, and infinite.

But it’s inherently flat. Soulless.

It has its place, but its place is not everywhere.
It has its use, but its use is not for everything.
It has its value, but its value is not rare.

There are times — many times — when it’s worth insisting on humanness. On embracing methods that take time. On valuing provenance.

We can resist flattening. We can see the beauty in imperfection. We can delight in slow work.

And we might develop a new appreciation for ideas, images, and sounds whose generation doesn’t require signals, servers, or screens.

If you’re stuck (or you have the feeling of being stuck) it’s easy to get caught up in your thoughts. And all that rumination — about what to do, or where to go, or what the future holds — all that can keep you just as stuck as anything else.

But sometimes, direction needs to be secondary. Step one is getting unstuck. Even just a little.

A bit of movement is where we begin. Where we direct ourselves can come after we get moving.

I recall hearing chef Bobby Flay talking about the various sauces he created for his burger restaurants.

The one thing he doesn’t mess with? Ketchup.

For regular tomato ketchup, he serves Heinz. As he explained (I’m paraphrasing), “They do it just right. I can’t improve on that.”

Surely he experimented in his kitchen. But in the end, he decided his own version wasn’t better. (And he didn’t push his in-house product onto customers.)

It takes an innovator to try new things, to expand the boundaries, to subvert the status quo.

It takes a master to know where and when invention is unnecessary.

Sometimes, you won’t be able to win someone over.

It’s unfair. It’s unjust. It doesn’t make sense.

And it’s out of your control.

It doesn’t matter that you’re nice, or that you’re likeable, or that you’ve done nothing wrong.

You’re just fighting a losing battle.

So after you’ve given it a try, and maybe tried again … it’s time to move on.

Because at some point, time trying to make sense of the thorns will come at the expense of spending time with the good soil.

How we truly feel is often revealed in the telling of the story.

Not in thinking. Or in writing. Or in our internal monologue. Or even in speaking aloud when we’re alone.

But rather, in telling our story to others, as they listen and witness.

Conversation becomes the stage on which our emotions are revealed.

Years from now — or maybe even sooner — what seems like a chore today could easily become an impossible dream that you’d long to experience once again.

See the beauty in the everyday. It will not last forever.

I arrived at the office the other day and noticed a former employee pulling into the parking lot. Instead of parking, he made a U-turn, and left.

Turns out, he had been operating on auto-pilot that morning. Five years of working at the same place, and two weeks after leaving, he was still grooved in the old pattern.

It’s a familiar experience.

Whether we change our address, or our mindset, or our habits … old ways have the potential to linger. It can be easy to absentmindedly revert, or relapse, or slip back into previous modes.

Sometimes this is an opportunity to gently coach ourselves. Other times, it’s just a moment to laugh.

Chasing the leader isn’t always a healthy endeavor.

It can help us to stretch, but it maps us to someone else’s position, not to our own capabilities.

On the flip side of things, bottom-calibration isn’t a good plan either. The better-than-the-worst position might keep you from being singled out, but that’s a downward cycle. And you’re better than second-to-last.

Besides, if that weakest link ends up being removed, where does that leave you?

Exercise caution in comparing yourself to others. As ever, the useful comparison is usually to yesterday’s version of you.