If you look at the shadows around you — those cast on the walls or the ground — you’ll notice that some have a crisp, well-defined edge. Others have a softness that makes it difficult to see exactly where the light ends and where the shadow begins.

Most of life is like the softer shadows. A little fuzzy. Edges that aren’t always clearly defined. Lots of gray areas.

Yes, there are places where it’s clearly light or clearly dark. But much of it … much of it is somehow in between.

When a cowboy gets bucked off a bull, he has to let go of the rope. To hang on would be to his peril.

There are times when our strength — and our ability to maintain a tight grip — can work against us. Times when it would be better (in the long run) to accept temporary defeat.

Pausing to regroup, or to reset, or to focus on self-care … that’s not the mark of failure; it’s the sign of wisdom and resilience.

Singing a song is by no means the most efficient way to communicate.

But efficiency isn’t always our goal.

Keep singing.

And if you find yourself asking, “Should I sing?” the answer is, “Yes. Yes you should.”

“We have 100 years of combined experience.”

Excellent. And is it four professionals who have been at this thing for 25 years?

Or 2,600 noobs who have been on the job for two weeks?

The combination matters.

We might need to zoom in. Way in.

Or maybe we need to step back and zoom out.

It could be that we need to adjust the way we’re looking at what’s right in front of us.

* * *

We can gain clarity in many ways. The important part is that we endeavor to do it.

Starting well doesn’t guarantee finishing well.

Starting poorly doesn’t guarantee finishing poorly.

We don’t have guarantees. What we do have is this moment — right now — our best judgement, and our ability to influence what happens next.

Being on the right path doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re moving in the right direction. It doesn’t even mean that you’re moving at all.

Watch for the signs. Look for fellow travelers. Take note of what’s changing and what’s staying the same.

Put together, those pieces will start to tell you the direction you’re headed.

Our world is filled with beauty and art. But even with our best efforts, we will only be able to experience a fraction of it.

And to think. With that immeasurable backlog — we should regularly pause and hold space for stillness and silence?

Exactly right.

Even though we tend to capture everything with audio and video, people rarely press “record” in the earliest, least-proficient moments.

Learning the first chord on a guitar. The first attempt at a poem. The first time a foot is placed on a skateboard.

All these things happen privately.

It’s good to keep this in mind when we first begin and we look to books or the internet to understand what exits in the world. For the most part, what we see is what people want us to see. Usually, it’s the good stuff.

The messy, clumsy beginnings are hidden — and that’s a good thing. But it’s easy to forget when we’re the clumsy beginners and all we see are those with more experience.

If you’re starting something new, stick with it; it gets better.

“Music is too important to leave up to the professionals.”

I heard master guitar designer Andy Powers say this. He’s not the first to say it, but he believes it, and he’s happy to spread the idea.

I’m with Andy.

Let’s make music.

All of us.

Maybe you’ve heard the widely-shared parable about the professor who asks his students to fill a jar with large rocks, pebbles, and sand. The size of the objects is symbolic of their importance.

The lesson is that if you begin with the sand (the small things in life) you’ll never have enough space for the rocks (the more meaningful things). “First things first,” as Stephen Covey would say.

Oliver Burkeman has given me new insight on this concept: it’s a lie.

The problem is not that we fail to prioritize what’s important. The problem is that there are too many things that feel important. Too many worthy causes. Too many rocks.

And yet we must choose. We will never have enough time to tend to everything, so our challenge is to figure out what we will prioritize … and to gracefully let the other things go.

Mourning the loss of all that we will never do is perhaps painful, but it’s necessary. If we don’t contend with that loss, it will continually get in the way of the things we can do.

Sometimes you have to make an intentional design mistake in order to find the edge between what works and what fails.

Part of innovation (the part that’s often hidden from the public) is the necessary off-path probing and out-of-bounds sampling that explores the vibrant margins.

It’s there — through that dance — that creativity thrives.

Many of the roles we play are played not because we’ve been asked, or coached, or appointed … but because we’ve stepped into them — either intentionally or accidentally. Sometimes this happens overnight, but more often it happens over a long period of time.

Either way, it’s not permanent: we can work to change these roles if we don’t like playing them. It just might take some work.

We had a significant snowfall last night. In the morning, I saw a young man clearing a car with his hands and kicking snow away from the tires. With a six-inch blanket of heavy snow, his method was going to take time. Who knows: maybe he was digging out so he could go buy a shovel.

As I reflect upon his situation, a few things come to mind.

One, sometimes we don’t prepare … and our bet doesn’t pay off. Then we’re stuck with the consequences.

Two, when you don’t have a scraper and a shovel, you use your hands and your feet.

And three, paradoxically, getting the tools and resources you need would be easier if you already had them.

I drilled a hole in my wall yesterday and oh, what a mess it was.

The surface of the wall was beautiful. But behind that, there was a lot of loose horsehair plaster. It was a dusty, crumbling headache.

The experience reminded me of a larger lesson: you can’t really know what you’re dealing with until you get beyond the surface.

After the sowing, there comes a time for harvesting and storing.

It seems like a selfish act — all that sustenance going into the silo.

But silos allow us to plan for the future. Or to plan for something big. And those plans don’t have to be selfish at all.

Whatever it is you’re gathering and saving: what’s it for?

When was the last time you had a positive, meaningful experience?

Call it to mind.

Where were you? What were you doing? What was the context?

If we want, we can consciously create these moments. More precisely, we can regularly seek the conditions in which these meaningful experiences are possible.

It’s not to say that these things don’t happen serendipitously. But we can also engage, curate, and set the stage ourselves … externally and internally.

Over the years, I’ve used many different notebooks and sketchbooks: Moleskine, Fabriano, Rhodia, Evernote, Moo, Daler-Rowney. Different styles from each.

Which one is best? Here’s the answer: the one I use most.

Styles and preferences change over time. The constant, however, is the practice. Taking notes. Recording thoughts. Capturing ideas. Marking. Drawing. Creating.

However you do it, and whatever tools you use, the value is in the doing. Whether you choose lines, grids, dots, or an open field … whether it’s case-bound, saddle-stitched, spiral or digital … the important part is that you’re actually using the tool.

A blank notebook on the shelf is just a decoration … no matter how much potential its pages hold.

How close are your words to your heart?

And how close are your actions to your words?

When these things are out of alignment, the internal conflict it causes begins to reveal itself.

A certain peace comes from keeping our words and actions aligned … and in close proximity to our heart.

It can be frustrating. You call a professional and they come solve the problem — for a fee — and the solution is something simple that you could have done on your own.

But remember: that happens once.

Now, you have a new skill. You have a new way to troubleshoot. You have another simple thing to try before you have to call in the experts.

You didn’t pay a service fee. You paid for a lesson (even if you weren’t looking for a tutor).