Convenient. Easy. Simple. Economical. Available. Popular.

We seek these things all the time.

But when are we strong enough to choose “right” over these things? Sometimes it’s one or the other. Right, but not convenient. Right, but not easy. Right, but not popular.

As consumers and citizens, we we often choose from a long list of options that are cheap, easy, and comfortable. But when those options conflict with what’s right, when do we choose right?

Can we be uncomfortable for the sake of good? Can we be so bold in service of what’s right?

Dream about the life you want to have. Envision it. See it. Imagine its beautiful details.

But don’t forget to shift into gear.

Our dreams don’t burst into reality on their own; they’re drawn forth — little by little — through our intentional acts.

* * *

And if you’re already living your dream, then you don’t need to call upon your imagination, and you don’t need to shift gears. You can just look around with a spirit of gratitude, and soak it all in.

Sometimes we voice the thought — specifically or generally, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

And that may be true. We might not know.

But where we lack certainty in outcomes, we can have confidence in our ability to try.

So we amend the initial thought: “I don’t know if I can do this … but I do know I can try, and I’ll give it my all.”

The narrator that foretells failure is fluent, detailed, and certain. It’s easy to get drawn into the story.

“If I screw up this meeting, I’ll lose my job, and … well … I might never find work again. That will cause my marriage to fall apart and then my friends will abandon me. I’ll never get back on my feet, and I’ll die alone and penniless.”

It puts a lot of pressure on that one meeting. But that’s the only hook the narrator needs to weave together a seamless story of disaster.

Life doesn’t really work like this. When we err, we don’t enter free-fall; it’s more like falling forward as we walk uphill. Maybe we slip. Maybe we look foolish. But we’re still on the hill, and we can still get up and get back to climbing.

So listen to the other narrator. The one that speaks of possibility and purpose. She can be quiet at times, and less likely to be certain of her predictions, but she’s more likely to be right … and she intimately knows our greatest potential.

If you’re backpacking, at some point, you stop to set up camp for the night.

To soldier on without rest — whether out of determination or out of joy for the journey — is not sustainable forever.

Without stopping to prepare for the evening, you’ll eventually find yourself exhausted and asleep on the trail.

Rest — and preparing for rest — is part of a natural, healthy cycle. Don’t fight it. Make it a welcome part of the journey. And just like everything else, try to do it well.

Often, learning the concept within a book is sufficient; getting the general idea is enough.

If you want to grow exponentially, don’t surrender to reading every word of every publication you set out to discover. There’s no prize for reading every word and every footnote.

Soak-in the ideas. Let them resonate. But move on when you need to.

However, for the best books … every word is worth it, no matter how often you revisit the text.

My five-year-old son’s school uniform includes a children’s “clip-on” tie that clasps around his neck.

As I was helping him with the clasp, he noticed that I was wearing a necktie, too. He asked, “How do you hook yours together?”

There are two things I like about this interaction.

One, my son assumes that I wear a clip-on tie.

Two, I’m reminded that honest curiosity — particularly related to other people — is wonderful. That we learn by asking questions and engaging with others.

Here’s to voicing our curiosity more often.

Learn the rules so you can break them. Find an edge and push on it. Plant something off the map; not so far off the map that no one knows where you are, but just outside the boundaries.

In a way, “the rules don’t apply” is a great approach to creativity.

However, “the rules don’t apply to me” is not the same. “The rules don’t apply to me” creates a hierarchy where we’re playing the same game, but I don’t have the same set of constraints as you. And it’s usually not fair.

The way we break rules shows whether we’re acting as artists or elitists.

“It doesn’t look like it, but a lot of work went into it.”

* * *

We see the surface. We see the final product. We see outcomes.

Which is to say that most of the time, there’s an extensive backstory hidden from our view.

Even if “what you see is what you get” … what you see rarely tells the full story of how it came to be.

Practice hardest where you’re worst.

It’s important to keep skills sharp — to stay practiced in the areas where you excel. So keep doing that.

But apply most of your grit to where you’re weakest. Note the places where you struggle and the areas where you typically falter … and apply your focus there.

Rehearsing the easy parts makes for a pretty show, but the hard parts are what need your attention.

You might not feel flexible … but you can bend over backwards to help someone.

You might not feel nimble … but you can get out of your own way.

And you might not feel balanced … but you can stand on the shoulders of giants.

Your best self is sad to see what’s gone unused and is now nearly forgotten.

Is it a book? Special tools? A musical instrument? Exercise equipment? Luggage? Something else?

It’s different for each of us, but some things are not meant to gather dust.

When we renovated our house, we had lots of decisions to make. Which rooms go untouched? Which need work? And how much?

We wanted to upgrade a bathroom, but amidst all the other work we were planning, we were unsure about taking the leap.

One afternoon, I took a sledgehammer to the bathroom wall.

A few moments later, the choice was clear: “Now we’ll have to renovate this room.”

* * *

We don’t always need a sledgehammer to make a choice. Most of the time, we just need to lean enough in the right direction so that we fall off of the fence upon which we’ve been sitting.

Here’s to leaning with firm intention. (Or to sledgehammering, if you prefer.)

When I was a kid, I used to go to the grocery store with my father.

I recall times when we’d encounter other shoppers absentmindedly meandering through the aisles or stopped in the middle, staring at shelves.

We’d politely excuse ourselves to get by or we’d find another way around.

My dad would later advise me, “Pay attention to the world around you.”

At the time, I didn’t realize the profound value of that advice.

It’s a lesson that stuck.

It’s easy to get caught up in our own world. But the real world — the physical one that we share with others — that world changes when we take the time to pay attention to it. And it’s important that we do.

When we think of our heroes, we often think about their virtues and achievements. Generally, we think of who they are.

But we can also think about who our heroes are not. Who they chose to not be, or who they tried to be but were unable to become.

We can even consider our heroes’ character flaws and failures ... and learn nearly as much.

Dream big.

No. Bigger than that.

Much bigger.

* * *

Right now, if you’re like a lot of people, you hesitate. Resistance begins to perk up.

But who are you resisting? The blog writer who encourages you to dream big?

Not likely.

The resistance is your own self-doubt. The idea that you might be able to do some things, but beyond that is unreasonable.

But “dream reasonable” is not a thing.

If you’re going to dream, dream big. Then do something about it.

When you set lofty goals, there will be plenty of doubters. You don’t have to be one of them.

If you’re doing five things, and struggling to shine, it may be time to make some hard choices. It may be time to do three things well, and to shelve the other two items until another day.

It’s possible that you care deeply about all five things. But “five things done poorly” is a bad strategy, and it’s no way to approach the work that matters.

Paring-down commitments is not the same as giving up; it’s a sign of respect for the work you’re committed to doing.

Just because a grown-up didn’t teach you when you were a kid ...

Or it wasn’t a class you took in school ...

Or you didn’t have a mentor ...

Or no one showed you how ...

… doesn’t mean that you can’t figure it out now.

Google it. Get a book. Watch a video. Ask someone. Take lessons.

“I wasn’t taught that” might be a reality but it’s not an excuse.

If it’s worth learning, learn it now.

Don’t fault the restaurateur for talking about the business of food every time you see her. Her intensity is what makes her good at what she does.

Don’t fault the athlete for talking about the game, the activist for talking about politics, the doctor for talking about healthcare, or the pastor for talking about Jesus.

We talk about what’s top of mind.

Listen with patience and curiosity. And be delighted by how much focus people bring to the topics they love.

Our darkest hours can be filled with pain and suffering, but they can also reveal heroism, compassion, and strength.

Even in the darkness, there is always light to be found. And hope — hope endures.

* * *

If we can’t see the light ourselves, then let us be that light for others.