If we’re not careful, our frustration about a small problem can become the origin of larger problems.

Said another way: our reaction to a problem can become a problem of its own.

Keep perspective.

I spent five minutes looking for an adapter to connect a cable to a port. Then I looked at the cable again. The problem wasn’t that I needed an adapter; the problem was that an adapter had already been attached to the cable.

I didn’t need to find an adapter — I needed to remove one.

Just another lesson: sometimes the solution isn’t from addition, it’s from subtraction.

There will be times when you put a lot of thought and care into a project. When you consider every detail. When you adopt the role of an expert curator.

And most of it will go unappreciated. Or unnoticed. Or seemingly ignored.

Don’t lose heart.

And don’t change your ways.

Do the thoughtful work. Even if it’s only fully appreciated by one person. Even if that one person is you.

And don’t take it personally either. Beauty and craft surround us — we often don’t see it ourselves.

So do the work for the sake of the work, not the recognition.

The world needs your contribution.

There are people who will tell you you cannot do it.
There are others who will tell you you can.

There are people who will marginalize your work.
There are others who will elevate and support the work you do.

There are people who will tell you all the things you’re doing wrong.
There are others who will tell you all the things you’re doing right.

Our radio dials are not perfect; we can’t completely tune out the naysayers.

But we can choose who gets our attention. And we can decide who to believe.

Spend some time in a locally-owned shop, and you’ll notice things.

A block propping open a door.
Wire carefully wrapped to hang a picture.
A zip tie used to tidy some cables.
A hand-written sign.

Because even carefully-designed spaces don’t account for everything, and we improvise. We find ways. We solve problems with the tools we have and the ideas we come up with.

Two takeaways. One, notice the home-grown solutions (they can be clever or sometimes amusingly and boldly inexpert). Two, be a problem-solver in your own space. Our surroundings — just like us — are works-in-progress.

Not too long ago, I slept in on a Sunday.

At the breakfast table, I happily reported, “Hey! I reached my sleep goal.”

My youngest son replied, “I didn’t reach mine — because I don’t have one.” He smiled wryly. (This is on-brand for his style of humor.)

But it reminded me of the power of goal-setting. When we set goals — even if they’re not particularly lofty — they become opportunities for us to celebrate what we’ve done.

Without goals, we’re just doing things. When we set goals, we turn activity into personal achievement.

Not as you envisioned in your own mind, but collaboratively with a team.

Not precisely, but together with a child.

Not as it was scripted, but in a new, unexpected way.

Sometimes it’s much less about the outcome and much more about how we get there.

The destination becomes what it is because of how we journey.

“I don’t have time” can be a reality. But it can also be a posture. And a trap.

And sometimes what makes it real is that we’ve trapped ourselves by the posture.

People will screw things up that you would have gotten right. (They’re not you.)

People will make choices that you wouldn’t have made. (They’re not you.)

People will think things that you wouldn’t think. (They’re not you.)

There are certainly areas where we find affiliation and alignment. But we are all different people. To feel surprise, disappointment, shock, or outrage when others do not do as we do is to forget: they’re not you.

In golf, there’s a central principle: play the ball as it lies.

This means that once the ball is in play, you don’t improve its position. You don’t pick up the ball and move it. You don’t play it from somewhere else.

There are exceptions, but generally, you have to accept the situation — even if it’s daunting — and make your stroke.

This could be a helpful attitude in life, too. We play it as it lies. We accept the current conditions as our starting point. We play it from where we are.

Surrendering to what is now, in service of where we’re going. It’s not giving up; it’s accepting what is, and positioning ourselves for the next move.

H/T Angus

Daina Oniunas-Pusić says this of her latest film: “It was a story that presented itself before I necessarily knew where it was coming from or why, and it felt very urgent for me to develop.”

Consider the feeling she’s describing.

I don’t yet know where this is coming from. I don’t know where this is going. And yet, it is calling for my participation. It beckons me.

Creative prompts present themselves in many ways. Sometimes the vision and path are clear. Other times, we navigate through a compelling mist.

How we travel (or hide) tells a lot about who we are and what we seek.

Where do you feel creative urgency? Where do you sense urgency in life?

What is your reply?

Legal freedom and actual freedom — they’re not the same.

Being free and knowing you’re free — they’re not the same.

Knowing you’re free and feeling like you’re free — they’re not the same either.

* * *

But regardless of how we experience it, fighting for freedom is always a worthy fight.

Don’t underestimate the power of a warm, genuine smile.

Even with brief encounters, a smile can create lasting ripples.

And with longer gatherings, a smile sets the stage for positive interaction.

Don’t wait for showtime. Don’t save it for a clever joke.

Smile from the start.

In the moment, it’s possible to convince ourselves that we need to start over. That we need to scrap the work-in-progress. That we need to start from scratch.

Perhaps that’s true.

But more often, we merely need a reset. A pause. A re-centering.

Beginning again is not the same as going back to zero. The reset lets us restart from right here.

The Resistance — the feeling of stuckness that holds us back from our creative work — it often presents itself as full-strength. That is, insurmountable.

But it’s a lie.

Sometimes the Resistance is strong. Other times, it’s remarkably fragile and merely pretending to be strong.

When we think we need a creative push, sometimes all we really need is the gentlest breeze … a whisper of effort. At times, that’s all it takes for forward momentum to take hold.

Just begin.

My son tried to join two pieces of plastic using some liquid PVA school glue. I explained that this was the wrong kind of glue to use; it wouldn’t work well.

Later, I noticed his project on the table. Instead of a little glue, he had now used a lot of glue.

This kind of error isn’t limited to children. Many of us make this kind of miscalculation too, knowingly or unknowingly.

Whether our fix is through money, attention, food, risk, abandon, control … Sometimes we think, “This isn’t the best solution, but maybe it will work if I have a lot of it.”

Like using the wrong kind of glue, trying to solve a problem with great quantities of the wrong solution can easily become a mess.

There is a Lakota prophesy from some 2,000 years ago — that the birth of a white buffalo will signal the coming of better times.

One such buffalo calf was recently discovered in Yellowstone National Park.

It’s a good moment to ponder: what are better times? What do we think “better” is? Do we ever get it wrong? Is what we want for ourselves and for others … is this always better?

Are we wise enough to know?

The visiting team won by a wide margin. Throughout the game — even to the very end — they played with composure, focus, and good sportsmanship.

The home team lost by the same wide margin. Throughout the game — even to the very end — they played with composure, focus, and good sportsmanship.

Respect for the game and its players has nothing to do with the score. Winning or losing, by a lot or by a little, you always get to choose how you play the game.

I didn’t trust the thermometer reading. The room was surely warmer than what the gauge showed.

What I discovered is that the wall where the thermostat was mounted — that wall was particularly cold. The device was accurate; it was just measuring the temperature of the wall, not the air.

* * *

What’s close to us — what we allow to be close to us — can have profound effects. Our surroundings and our environment … they matter. But not nearly as much as what we keep close.

There’s a difficult balance we navigate. To know that we can make an impact. That our lives have purpose. That we can make a difference.

And at the same time, to know that we’re but a blip in time. A momentary twinkle in the infinite universe.

Ah, but what a twinkle we can be! In the lives of those close to us and in the work we commit ourselves to doing … our mark can be meaningful and memorable.

Keep leaning in.