How prominent is the asterisk in the work you do? How much time do you spend apologizing for the flaws and pointing out the shortcomings?

Here’s an invitation: stop. Everyone deals with limitations and constraints. Time, resources, skill ... there’s rarely as much as we’d want.

But you don’t have to apologize. You don’t need a footnote saying, “This is the best I could do given the challenges I faced.”

Do your best. Be your best. Ship your best. No apologies.

Besides: tomorrow’s work will be even better.

Asking, “What do you want me to do?” can be useful, particularly when expectations are unclear.

The trouble comes when the answer is, “I want you to do something without me having to tell you to do it.”

It’s the difference between equal partnership, and a relationship where one person is a doer, and the other is a doer and a director.

That second role involves more emotional labor. Knowing the schedule. Knowing the big picture. Understanding the various moving parts.

Sometimes “help” is more than satisfying requests. Sometimes “help” is becoming more involved. Taking on more responsibility. Knowing what’s going on. Doing, without having to be told.

When the finish line is in sight, we experience a mental shift. Part of it is relief, part of it is leaning hard on grit and commitment.

But as we approach that line, we have to remember: every finish line is a starting point for the next step in our journey. Whether we’re nearing the end of a sprint, a marathon, or a stroll, there’s always a new starting line waiting for us. Don’t hang up those running shoes; there’s another adventure ahead.

You can’t pretend to be a doctor. It’s called “practicing medicine without a license” and it’s illegal.

But pretending to be confident? Demonstrating leadership when you don’t have the credentials?

Go ahead and pretend. Step into those roles. Test the waters. There aren’t laws against it. The only thing stopping you is your own fear. So add that to the list ... and pretend you’re not afraid.

When we draw attention to things, we give them power. Through our words, through our actions ... we’re able to say, “Look at this. Don’t miss it. This is noteworthy.”

But how much of our time is spent pointing out flaws, versus highlighting the good?

Failure versus success?

Petty versus significant?

Trivial versus meaningful?

When we discuss these lesser things — when we gossip about them, share them, meme them — we are making a choice to elevate them. These hollow or even injurious things … they become consequential because we make them so.

If we’d like to see more goodness in the world, we might start by taking more time to acknowledge where it already exists, and less time pointing to everything else.

When we see joy, something changes in us. It can be subtle, but it’s there nonetheless.

It’s like joy is such a powerful force, that it not only affects those experiencing it directly, but also those who witness it.

Look for it, and let it change you. See the child laughing. See the old couple holding hands. See the friends embrace.

See it, and feel it. A little piece of that joy gets to go home with you in your heart.

How do you turn into your superhero self? Clark Kent would find a telephone booth. Diana Prince might spin. Bruce Banner would get angry.

So what do you do? Do you take a deep breath? Silently say a phrase to yourself? Touch an accountability coin in your pocket?

Figure out what you do in that moment before greatness, and then make sure you do it often.

Turn on your superhero. We need your help.

Ecdysis \ ˈek-di-sis \ is the process of shedding an outer cuticle. We know it more commonly as molting. It’s when an insect grows, and sheds its outer shell.

At that critical point of growth, the insect is completely unguarded. It’s paused, and focused totally on growth. All of its energy is centered on escaping the old armor. On stretching. On growing.

So what does this have to do with you and me?

It has to do with vulnerability. It has to do with pausing, and intentionally growing. With removing the shells and facades. Temporarily ignoring distraction, and pouring every ounce of our energy into becoming the best versions of ourselves.

We can’t maintain this posture continually. But for moments — intentional moments — we can choose to grow. We can choose to level up. We can choose to leverage all the resources at our disposal (which are nearly infinite and mostly free) ... and to stretch into the excellence that’s just beyond our current reach.

And eventually, to do it again.

And again.

Some meditation practices focus on the breath. That something different happens when you pay careful attention to a breath-in, and a breath-out. When you bring mindfulness to the act of respiration.

And yet ... we breathe all day. Constantly. So what changes in this kind of meditation?

It’s the paying attention. The noticing. The intention.

It turns out, when we bring attention to something ... when we allow ourselves the time be still and to observe ... the ordinary can become extraordinary. In those quiet moments, even something that has been happening all along can be transformed into a powerful act of restoration.

And it all starts with slowing down, and paying attention to what’s already happening.

Sometimes, people in customer service will say, “There’s nothing we can do.” That’s not true, of course. That line is usually a test to see how serious you are. To see if you’re committed, or if you’ll give up easily and go away.

Someone fed me that line today.

“I’m sorry. You’re outside the seven-day window for order complaints. There’s nothing we can do.”

I approached the situation using a friendly and curious tone. “Are you sure? We ordered [one thing] and were given [a lesser thing]. You’re saying that beyond seven days, the company is unwilling to make this right?”

<long pause>

“Can you please hold, sir?”

After five minutes, I was given the partial refund that I had specifically requested.

* * *

So, two observations. One, a friendly (yet firm) conversation can sometimes turn a “no” into a “yes”. Shouting wouldn’t have done that. It probably helped, too, that I was very clear about what I wanted the company to do.

And two, it’s a shame that corporate customer service flow charts don’t begin more often with, “Thank you for being our customer. How can we make this right?” That approach wouldn’t stop mistakes from happening, but it would make for many more happy customers in the long run.

As often as people ask us, “How are you?” how often do we stop to think deeply about that question? Not always to answer deeply (a reply of “I’m excellent” will do in most cases) but to think deeply.

Are you centered? Anxious? Content? Overwhelmed? Grateful? Ready? Excited?

People tend to check-in with us quite a bit. Just as often, we’d do well to check-in with ourselves.

Today, you get to begin your week. You get to move forward from yesterday, whether yesterday feels like a success or not.

The things you have to do ... you get to do.

There’s a future version of yourself saying, “Embrace today. Savor it. Live it. You might see it as Monday, but I see it as the gift of a specific day in this life — a unique gift that’s only given once.”

At yard sales and similar scenes ... it’s not uncommon for someone to pick up an item marked $0.50 and ask, “Will you take a quarter?”

It’s a game: find a good deal and bargain for a better price. It doesn’t matter if it’s a $100 item, or a $1 item. Players of the game love to play.

All well and good for the yard sales and flea markets of the world.

But when you’re paying a professional for services, you’re not at a yard sale.

When a skilled house painter offers a quote for $1,000 ... don't ask if she can do $900.

When an award-winning ad agency charges $5,000 for creative work ... don’t ask if they’ll accept $4,500.

And when a lauded copywriter bills $100 an hour... don’t ask if she’ll agree to $50.

Find your bargains at the flea market. But when you’re dealing with professionals, find your wallet … or politely find a better fit for your budget.

My four-year-old son got a haircut yesterday. He really liked it. Upon waking up today, he touched his hair and smiled with excitement, asking, “Is it still how it is?”

A sweet moment of gratitude through the eyes of a child. To rise thinking, “Is this wonderful dream still happening? Oh I hope so.”

May we all experience such pure moments of thankfulness for simple joys.

“Do you want a cookie or a trophy?”

I don’t recall who introduced me to the phrase … but I remember the context: the sarcastic line was delivered when a young person wanted praise for something he was supposed to do.

For instance: “I threw away my trash.”

“That’s great. Do you want a cookie or a trophy?”

* * *

We all like praise. We like a pat on the back. But let’s not get so caught up on it that we feel slighted when we’re not acknowledged for doing what we’re supposed to do.

Just do the thing. It’s not about a cookie, and it’s not about a trophy. It’s about doing the right thing.

Do we have the audacity to empathize? The nerve to imagine what it’s like to live in someone else’s world?

We’ve heard people say with indignation, “You don’t know what it’s like.”

And so it makes sense that we back down. That we don’t attempt the impossible. Out of deference. Or fear of conflict.

But that’s the paradox. In order for us to act with empathy ... we have to imagine what it’s like. We have to step into that discomfort.

That we can’t truly know ... that’s exactly the problem. But to connect deeply, we have to try to know.

The easy work is always an option. We can live a lifetime of doing the easy work.

Doing the hard work takes effort. Contributing emotional labor takes intention and vulnerability.

The thing is, the hard work feeds you. When you give with generosity and selflessness, it comes back to nourish you.

Spend a day doing the easy work and that night, you’ll feel empty.

Spend just a little time doing the hard work, and soon you’ll feel a swell of energy that endures.

Sometimes, when we tell someone about an ambitious project we’re planning, they’ll respond with a tone of apprehension. “Don’t start too big.” “Don’t get too far ahead of yourself.” “Maybe try something smaller to start?”

Often, this kind of response has more to do with the speaker than our plans.

Those who say, “be careful not to dream too big” ... they are not enrolled in your journey. It might even be that they’re anxious about their own abilities to dream big.

Don’t listen to those who want to limit you. You’ve got big ideas, and there’s no time for the disbelievers.

If you’ve ever watched someone learning to do a handstand, you’ll have seen her put her hands on the ground, and kick her feet into the air ... just a little.

Usually, there’s a long string of split-second hops before anything close to a handstand is achieved.

In order to learn handstanding, your feet have to kick into the air ... and past vertical. You have to feel balance, and then the treacherous tip forward. To even go too far.

And so you’re taught — when you tip over — to tuck your head, and to roll forward, instead of falling hard and flat.

* * *

And there it is: how do we learn to fail in a positive way? In a way that we learn. And recover. To fail in a way that’s not catastrophic. To fail toward progress. How do we do it?

Well, we don’t do it with little hops. No. We can’t achieve our greatest potential until we loft our highest and we learn to push past vertical ... if but a little.

Around the time of the U.S. Civil War, Ann Reeves Jarvis was working to organize positive change. Jarvis’ “Mother’s Day Work Clubs” helped to educate women in West Virginia about caring for children. Later, she organized a Mother’s Friendship Day to encourage post-war reconciliation.

Jarvis died in 1905. Her daughter, Ann Jarvis — intent to create a day to honor motherhood and the sacrifices mothers make for their children — organized a Mother’s Day celebration. Over time, through Jarvis’ efforts and connections, the event spread in popularity. With a massive letter-writing campaign, she petitioned to have the holiday added to the national calendar. In 1914, the second Sunday in May was established as Mother’s Day in the United States.

As the holiday began to be commercialized, Ann Jarvis ultimately denounced Mother's Day. Her concept had been about honoring mothers. Visiting, and spending time together. It wasn’t about Hallmark cards, florists, and jewelers.

So what are we to do? Let’s get back to honoring mothers. Not just on the second Sunday in May, but throughout the year. To show our appreciation. To listen. To visit.

Celebrate these remarkable women. Not just today, but year-round. Act upon the love, respect, and gratitude that flowers can never fully express.