Today is a great day to express, “I love you,” without using words.

Not through grand, elaborate coordination — but through small, intentional acts ... done with mindfulness and sincerity.

We learn to juggle by first learning to toss (and catch) one ball. Only one. Then two. Then three ...

We start small.

While the vision is to be juggling, we do not begin by throwing all the balls into the air simultaneously.

And yet this is what we sometimes do with projects. We begin by launching them all at once. All the balls in the air without a viable catching strategy.

Instead of “toss, toss, toss,” what happens when we play, “toss, catch,” and then we do it again?

Small steps that we can complete are small steps that can be repeated.

That ... is momentum.

Yesterday, I committed to spending twenty minutes thinking about an important person in my life. Considering life from her perspective. Hoping for her. Praying for her. Beseeching the universe on her behalf.

It was a challenge.

Staying with an empathetic thought — holding space for that mindset — is difficult. Our mind wanders. The world distracts us. A shiny tangent pulls our attention. We start to think about ourselves.

I found, however, that I was able to refocus. To recommit to my intention. And in doing so, I happened upon new thoughts. New perspectives. New concepts I might not have otherwise considered.

And something else became clear: the world generously offers us expansive opportunities to think deeply. But the culture ... the culture is an ever-moving, ringing bell.

Here. Now over here.

Now there. Now over there.

While the culture can offer delightful paths to explore, it may come at the expense of our deepest thoughts and our most profound discoveries.

Choose a thought. Stay with it. Stay with it more.

See what can blossom.

I subscribe to a few daily email news briefings. This past week, five days passed where I didn’t read any of those briefings; other things took priority.

Yes, I like to be informed. Yes, current affairs are important.

But did I miss anything? No, not really. Nothing of consequence, at least. The most important news got to me through other channels.

The lesson I learned here is not to ignore the news, but rather to recognize that there’s a lot of turbulence on the surface. That the day-to-day happenings are so constant and endless that if we’re not careful, we’ll get stuck there on the surface, forever thrashing about.

If you take a deep dive into something important, good for you. The stuff happening on the surface will still be there when you return, and you won’t miss a whole lot while you’re down below.

When you’re lost, confused, or feeling self-doubt, these questions can be stable foundations: “What’s now?” and “What’s next?”

What’s now? — What is really happening? What’s real and what’s imagined? How am I framing this challenge?

What’s next? — What is my next move? What are my options? What are all of my options? And very importantly: What’s the smallest step I can take in the right direction?

(HT to Scott, who has reminded me of these questions more than once.)

I’m working on some letterhead designs for a client.

On screen, the pages are about four inches by six inches. All of the options I’ve created seem reasonably balanced. Nicely composed.

But when I print the designs full-size (8-1/2 x 11") everything changes. This part is too big. That part is too heavy. These letters look wrong.

The documents — in physical space, at their actual size — look quite different than they do on the screen.

It’s a salient reminder. The digital world is different. What seems reasonable behind a screen could be quite wrong in the analog world. What seems accurate digitally can seem completely wrong in the flesh.

In a way, the screen tells us a story. Sometimes it’s told accurately. Sometimes, it’s a far cry from the truth.

It’s neither good nor bad … but it’s important to remember.

Last night, I played the piano and sang for a crowd. During one of the songs, I bungled a line of lyrics.

My heart sinks when this happens ... but it does happen every once in a while.

However, my hands continued in time on the piano.

My foot was steady on the damper pedal.

I hadn’t fallen off the bench.

Except for a few garbled words, all was well.

* * *

Too often, we make one mistake, and we want to scuttle the ship.

But it’s in those moments (and they can be the briefest of moments) that we must call to mind all that is going right. All the things that haven't gone awry.

To press forward, and to leave the mistake where it belongs — in the past.

It’s important to have intellectual, academic, and spiritual guides. People you follow. People you follow closely.

But you can’t keep track of it all. It’s perilous to follow that closely. Consider those who follow every movement, every tweet, and every breath of a celebrity.

When you’re that kind of follower, you can lose track of your own journey. You can lose your own path.

Just like in transportation: if you follow too closely, you’re likely to get into an accident.

Which do you want?

The status quo has a magnetic pull. We don’t like change; we resist it.

And yet, at the same time, many of us insist that we want things to be better.

But “better” doesn’t happen without change.

You can’t have it both ways.

Many times, we approach a situation thinking, “This must be about me.”

Whether it’s someone’s mood, or their recent post on social media, or a new policy at the office ... it’s easy to assume that what we’re experiencing is the world responding to us. That people’s words and actions are a direct response to our own activity.

But it’s important to remember that each of us leads a complicated life with many nuanced connections.

That what people are doing, saying, and sharing might be part of a completely different narrative, and not a coded commentary about us.

(It’s even possible that they’re not thinking about you at all.)

When we’re in the wheat field, we’re not baking bread.

* * *

Where are you collecting ... and where are you employing what you have? Using what you’ve collected?

There’s a balance. If all we do is collect, what’s in storage helps no one.

Whether it’s money, fame, knowledge, or material goods ... always, always, always what’s most important is what we do with what we have.

It’s important to know your personal history.

But it’s hard to climb mountains facing backwards.

Know your past, but don’t dwell upon it ... lest you dwell within it, and miss out on what’s ahead.

This past weekend, I sat with a dear friend. Our schedule was our own, and we had nowhere to be. A true gift.

And so we talked. We asked questions of each other, and we asked questions of the world.

Most importantly, we asked big, open-ended questions without clearly defined answers.

The answers we did glimpse were complex, shifting, and often questions themselves.

We drank coffee, broke bread, and pondered.

* * *

Our most compelling journeys in life are not within the map that’s been established, but along its edges, and beyond its frame ... where we can wander, and question, and seek with curiosity.

Always asking questions and not always knowing answers.

Thoughts come in and out of our head. Attitudes, feelings, narratives. There’s always a noise.

But beneath that are our values. The parts of our core. What we know to be true. What we believe about ourselves.

The problem is, sometimes those things that are supposed to be in the transient noise end up taking root. They begin to plant themselves where they don’t belong.

Let’s take time to call out those negative thoughts. To say, “You’re not serving me, so I will let you pass. You cannot take root and you will not grow.”

In obituaries, the phrase, “ ... died surrounded by family and friends,” is not uncommon. This brings to mind a bedside scene, and a soul quietly passing from this life to the next.

During a conversation with a friend about depression and mental health, it dawned upon me that suicide is another side of this phrase. That some people die at their own hand while “surrounded by family and friends.” Nearby, but perhaps completely unaware.

I write this post as a reminder to others and to myself. People we know are suffering. People we know feel isolated. People we know may need professional help.

And while there’s little hesitation to speak about broken bones and physical ailments, there’s an unfortunate stigma applied to mental health; it’s not something we talk about.

We’re much more likely to hear about someone’s stylist or personal trainer. Much less likely to hear about their therapist or psychologist ... or their interest in finding one.

But we can choose to change this. We can be more open about conversations surrounding mental health and the importance of asking for help when help is needed.

It’s up to us, because this won’t change on its own.

Things got a little mixed up behind the counter and I had to wait for my order. It wasn’t a long delay, but it was a delay nonetheless.

The proprietor said, “I’m really sorry about that!”

I replied “It’s no problem!”

And the reason it wasn’t a problem is because I made it not a problem. Had I made a different choice, the interaction could have gone very differently.

So many times, reasonable things happen and we turn them into problems. We overreact. We lose our composure. We inject heated emotion where it doesn’t belong.

Ultimately, we have choices. Amplify or ignore. Provoke or pacify. Intensify or de-escalate.

The truth is, some things only become problems because we make them so.

I watched one of my children working on a crossword puzzle, carefully writing using lowercase letters.

“Is that a lowercase ‘L’ or a capital ‘i’?” I asked.

“Errrr. I’m not sure.”

“Maybe you should use uppercase letters?”

“Ugh. But then I’d have to fix all the letters I’ve already written!”

* * *

This happens so often. We see a problem in the system, but in order to correct it, we’d have to correct other things too. We’re ultimately stuck by the sunk cost of our previous efforts.

So the easiest thing to do is to just keep doing things the way we’ve been doing them. Even if it’s problematic. Even if there’s a better way.

The hangup is that while some problems go away over time, others grow and cause more problems. Either way, maintaining the status quo is not an infinitely sustainable strategy.

It might take a mix of humility, grit, and bravery to change our processes for the better. Sometimes, it’s also going to take fixing work we’ve already done.

A new year comes whether we work toward it or not.

And as long as we’re living, we’ll get a birthday within that cycle too. But again, it happens without our contribution. Without our work.

It’s nice to celebrate milestones and round numbers. But better to celebrate the things that might not have happened without our effort.

To celebrate milestones of creativity. Milestones of generosity. Milestones of commitment and of showing up.

If we’re going to count, let’s count what matters most.

During unexpected, unscripted events, we often look for a leader. Someone who knows what’s going on. Someone who seems to know what to do. Someone who’s an example for others.

This job belongs to the informal mayor. This is the self-selected linchpin who takes action. The person who helps us to organize, to find common purpose, to feel more at ease, or to feel a sense of order.

Informal mayors will be present in the airport terminal when all flights are cancelled. They’ll be in the parking lot before the high school basketball game when the doors are mysteriously locked. They’re walking among cars on the interstate when traffic has been stopped for hours. They’re among bystanders stuck in a public building that's on security lock-down.

Informal mayors are not elected. They have no official roles, responsibilities, or authority. They merely take action. They’re not necessarily heroic or larger than life. They’re merely generous connectors who see others and attend to what’s needed.

Meaning ... you can be one anytime you choose, and it can make a difference.

H/T Angie

If my wife and I make a wrong turn while we’re driving, we have separate instincts.

Mine is to figure out where we’re going while the car is still moving. Hers is to find a place to pause, locate where we are on the map, and then to begin again ... headed in the right direction.

Clearly, my wife’s method is the more reasonable approach.

I’m trying to retrain myself, and in a bigger sense too.

When I feel like I’m off track, how often do I stop? Is my life’s journey headed in the right direction? How often do I look at the map? Do I even have a map?

There are times when “keep moving” can make a lot of sense. But not always.

If there’s not a map, find one. Or invent one. And once there’s a map, it’s wise to pause and to plan a route.