Consider the influence of each:

• A broken finger

• A headache

• A sore elbow

• A herniated disk

• A failing kidney

Sometimes our trouble remains localized. Other times, a local trauma sends ripples through the whole system. Location matters. The network matters.

And there are parallels in the creative process, in our work, and in our personal projects.

The good thing is that the phenomenon can work both ways. The balm. The nourishment. The healing. When certain areas are nurtured, they can change the entire system too.

One of our tasks is to understand ourselves. To identify the systemic levers. And when we can, to invest in those areas that will yield positive change for the whole self.

Foive, fieve, fife, fahv, fie …

I could say the word “five” in many ways. If you hear the context, and if you’re willing, you’ll understand.

That is, we might walk together.

But if your ear is hardened and you’re firm, you won’t hear it. You’ll argue, “I don’t know what ‘foive’ means.” And for lack of perfect articulation and enunciation, the message will be lost.

To have a softer ear, a more sensitive ear, a more generous ear — is to be open to the lessons the world is aching to teach us.

When it’s appropriate, a good mentor has the ability to advise: “You can figure this out by yourself,” or, “I think you already know the answer to your question.”

ChatGPT and other AI models aren’t typically trained to do this. They’re designed to provide answers, not to remove themselves from the process.

And sometimes what we need is to be redirected inward. To seek our answers not from the Robot, but from within. We might even learn that our questions have no answers. Sitting with that tension could be the very thing we need to do.

As I watched a jogger slow to a walk, I wondered what I often wonder from time to time — perhaps have even written about: what’s this moment I’m seeing?

Is he at the end of a short run? Is he finishing a long run? Maybe a 10K? Is he taking a short break before starting again? Maybe he had just been sprinting …

The truth was outside my scope. I only had the story I had invented based on a tiny sliver of time.

And this is like so many experiences in life. We catch an infinitesimal piece of someone’s life. A note within a symphony. And we build a story around what we think we’ve witnessed.

And sometimes I bet we get some of it right. But more often, we surely get it wrong on many counts.

We are storytellers. We’re inventors. It’s part of our nature. But it’s also useful to be conscious of this quality of our creative minds. The stories we tell — based on what we think we see — are stories we’ve written. And it’s easy to end up with more fiction than fact.

Greener every day.

Spring brings new life. Things are growing and greening.

All good news for those awaiting the season’s warmth.

For a small repair shop with a backlog of customers’ trimmers to fix, the green-up can evoke other feelings.

We all have a perspective.

So many celebrations in life are celebrations of life.

The promise of new life. The appreciation of long life. The joy of shared life.

* * *

My mother-in-law is ninety today. She’s an active, healthy, sharp-minded, generous, well-loved inspiration to many. A reader of this blog, too. Happy Birthday! May we all live so well.

If you’re generating ideas and your well has run dry, it’s worth considering what the wider team has to say.

The larger group will have more ideas, different perspectives, and new energy.

They’ll also bring a lot of bad ideas. Ideas you’ve vetted and discarded. Ideas that are a distraction.

But this is no surprise. Measure your expectations. If you’ve filtered through your own bad ideas (to discover viable options) others will need to do the same. Let them. It’s part of the process.

If the good ideas were already known, we wouldn’t be asking for more ideas.

Underinflated and overinflated tires degrade prematurely; proper inflation is optimal.

80% inflation is functional, but wear and tear will increase.

50% inflation might work, but only for a short time.

And 120% inflation is potentially dangerous.

In place of inflation, substitute sleep, energy, or effort.

When our trends hover around the optimal range, we thrive.

When we cheat the system high or low, we’ll eventually find ourselves in need of repair.

I recently visited a local park. The weather was nice, and I had taken my lunch to a sunny picnic bench. I have two takeaways from that experience.

First, I was surprised by the number of people sitting in parked cars. The parking lot had seven vehicles; six of them had drivers eating or looking at their phones. The seventh vehicle was mine.

The second takeaway has to do with what I noticed while I ate. A shiny piece of metal on one of the trees caught my eye. It was a small, numbered aluminum tag. As I looked around, I noticed other trees with tags. Were all of them tagged?

My thought was this: someone tends to these trees. They’re cared for. Managed. Maintained.

To the casual passerby, it’s just a park with trees. But they’re not just any trees. They are trees that are known individually. Cared for individually. Loved individually?

I was glad to choose a bench over a driver’s seat, and glad to pause long enough to notice the trees.

Materials dry in stages. (Think: paint, clay, and concrete.)

In the first few minutes and hours, things begin to settle. Viscosities change. Surfaces might generate a skin. What was soft becomes firm.

Most of the drying happens up front. The curing, however — the gradual movement toward maximal hardness — that takes much longer. Maybe days. Maybe weeks.

We can make the mistake of thinking that we’re like these materials. That we’ve been molded and formed. Indeed, it’s a useful metaphor. But the metaphor can also imply that we’re in the final stages of hardening. That we’re locked in.

And we’re not.

We’re as pliable as we’d like to be. We can change our mind. We can change our approach. We can change our selves.

We can soften and we can change.

If we choose.

Strategy One: Voice your struggles aloud. Whine so that others can hear. Increase the volume. Wait to see if someone comes to your aid.

Strategy Two: Seek out someone who is capable of helping. Ask them directly.

The first strategy — in a strange way — deflects vulnerability. It relieves some pressure by letting us vent while simultaneously avoiding the awkwardness of saying directly, “I need help.” By whining, there’s no request. No ask. No transaction. Rather, it’s a bet on pity. “I didn’t ask for help, yet here you are.” Magic.

The second strategy — the better approach — takes courage. It can take humility. It can call for vulnerability. But it’s the way that is more likely to produce results.

Perhaps when we whine we feel less in debt when we receive help. After all, we never really asked for it.

But “debt” is a curious thing when it comes to assistance. Many times, when we help, we ourselves are helped. We reap benefits from our own generosity. That well-known phrase from St. Francis of Assisi, it is in giving that we receive … it’s true.

Don’t be afraid to ask for help. Don’t be afraid to give it.