The snow that had recently blanketed my neighborhood is now gone.

But in my yard, I can still see a small pile — the remnants of a snowman.

That little bit of packed snow made me think: sometimes there’s evidence where we’ve shown love or attention. Their effects tend to linger.

Sometimes we’re lucky.

Sometimes we’re not.

It’s good to acknowledge luck, but that’s about it. It’s not useful to dwell on it.

Better instead to stay focused on the important work at hand — luck or no.

A flat piece of paper is pristine, but it cannot hold many forms.

Crease it and it can maintain a shape.

Crumple it and it has form.

* * *

It’s similar with us. Dents, wrinkles, and imperfections are what give us our dimension.

Jealousy might show up as indifference.

Fear might show up as anger.

Depression might show up as sarcasm.

Insecurity might show up as generosity.

Often, we’ll bristle at the idea of experiencing a particular word. But when we look closer, we find that the word in question can show up in other ways. It’s just first word wearing different clothes.

It’s not that we necessarily feel every emotion. But we certainly feel the cousins and distant relatives of every emotion. Recognizing this can help us to understand ourselves as much as it can help us to understand others.

Or at least to try.

The beauty of a holiday meal with family and friends is not just about eating food.

It’s about cooking together. Sharing recipes. Learning techniques.

It’s about telling stories. Even stories we’ve already heard. Especially stories we’ve already heard.

It’s about laughing with each other and laughing at ourselves.

It’s about tending to the needs of the moment. Refilling a drink. Clearing a table. Washing dishes. Cleaning up a spill.

For meals like these, food is only part of the equation. All the rest happens because of love.

Pause to wonder at the power of gratitude.

When we prioritize it — or simply call it to mind — it’s able to wash away immeasurable negativity.

And gratitude is something that’s always available to us. We don’t need special circumstances or a particular setting. We don’t need a special day or a special moment.

We just need the presence of mind to embrace it.

Begin with gratitude … and everything begins to change for the better.

In the United States, it’s the day before Thanksgiving. Many people are actively working out the details of a special meal for tomorrow. They’re thinking carefully about the question, “How will we feed everyone?”

It’s a beautiful moment that catches us at our best. It works as a powerful metaphor, too. What happens when we spend more time focused on making sure everyone is fed?

There are many times when we get the opportunity to “teach someone a lesson” — to hold them accountable for their mistakes.

But this isn’t the only path. There are times when we can help. When we can soften the sting. When we can fix an error. When we can be kind.

Turns out, kindness can be a lesson too.

When asked, “How are you?” a friend of mine often replies, “I’m hanging in there.”

I like to joke with him about his potential to moonlight as an acrobat.

* * *

Our desire to “hang in there” comes from the right place. It’s born of grit, determination, and persistence. But it’s not necessarily a sustainable activity.

There are situations where a tighter grip doesn’t help. Times when we’re challenged not to hang on, but to let go. To release. To allow.

And the curious thing about it is that we never know for sure what will happen until we actually let go. Until we make that shift, we can only imagine.

The words of Chögyam Trungpa come to mind: “The bad news is you’re falling through the air, nothing to hang on to, no parachute. The good news is, there’s no ground.”

It takes courage to hang on. But letting go is courageous too. Here’s to doing it with purpose and beauty.

My daughter’s eyeglasses were recently broken. One of the temples cleanly snapped off from the rest of the frame. It will be a few weeks until a new frame is ready.

Offering a temporary fix, I said, “We could try to tape them.”

“To my face???”

“No. We could try to tape the parts together.”

* * *

Sometimes miscommunication isn’t about hearing the wrong words. It’s about hearing the right words in the wrong way.

Since ancient times, we’ve been reminded:

“The quality of your mind determines the quality of your life.”

And yet.

As a culture, we put so much effort into improving our circumstances and surroundings — and not nearly enough effort into improving our minds.

We seek healing through bandages, yet we know it doesn’t work that way.

* * *

Mind your mind. It’s where we begin.

I took a night hike with my sons. The moon was bright and we walked along the trail without the aid of flashlights. Even walking through shadow, our vision was sufficient.

But something changed as we approached a well-lit clearing. The lights created an inhibiting contrast.

Once we saw the light, the proximal darkness became more difficult to navigate. Things nearby were now dark and obscured.

Those last hundred yards as we approached the light — those felt the darkest.

As it so often does, nature seemed to be teaching a lesson about what it’s like to navigate life’s highs and lows.

At first, we tend to be impressed with the people who make the biggest promises.

But ultimately, we’re most impressed with the people who are consistent in keeping the promises they make, no matter what size.

Following a difficult couple of hours, I gave myself a pep talk as I walked to the car.

“You’ve got this. Deep breath. Your best self, right now. Just begin again. Fresh start.”

And as soon as I finished that thought, I somehow managed to drop my car keys into my coffee.

*Plunk.*

How? I don’t quite know.

But “my best self” in that moment meant laughing at the ridiculousness. Sometimes all you can do is to humbly laugh at yourself and then move on.

Here’s to coffee, spare napkins, and whatever happens next.

Last night, I needed to focus on a task — one that I had been avoiding.

To help me stay on track, I took two minutes to list all the things that were not more important than that task.

The list included my usual distractions: news, email, social media, internet browsing, streaming media, televised sports, and checking things like account balances and tracking numbers for shipments.

None of that was more important than the task at hand.

And just by naming those diversions, it added enough tension that I was able to keep distraction at bay. The temptation was still present, but my resolve was stronger. I think I'll keep the list handy for the next time I need to use it.

The goal isn’t to find a way to eliminate self-doubt.

The goal is to be confident, but to have enough self-doubt that you strive for better.

To have enough uncertainty that you are consciously in a state of improvement.

Not to be hindered by self-doubt or to be consumed by it … but just enough of it to keep you leaning forward. A kind of peaceful bias toward becoming ever-better.

We like to be invited. To be asked. To be picked.

It feels so good that we almost forget that we don’t have to be passive. We don’t have to wait.

We can create something. We can organize. We can take the first step.

Instead of waiting to be chosen, we can invite others. We can ask others. We can pick others.

If you’re waiting to be found … maybe it’s time that you do the finding.

Gather. Organize. Create.

You might be the source of the very thing you seek.

Following a workshop, I listened as another participant shared a personal reflection. The words were honest and unscripted. As she spoke, her eyes glistened.

“I’m sorry. Sometimes my eyes tear up when — for the first time — I recognize something that’s true about myself and I say it aloud.”

No apology necessary. What a beautiful thing to have witnessed.

As we pulled away from the house, my son asked with surprise, “Dad! Is this a race car?”

He was responding to the aggressive, throaty sound my engine had begun to make.

“No, buddy. It’s not supposed to sound this way. There’s a problem with the exhaust.”

* * *

We naturally draw conclusions from what we see and hear, but there are times when those are false signals. We perceive one thing but the reality is quite the opposite.

Also: the new muffler — which was subsequently installed — is not as exciting as you might think. Or rather, it’s exactly as exciting as you might think.

We don’t get what we want by yelling at the wrong people.

We get what we want by connecting with the right people.

Next time you’re feeling frustrated in a conversation, consider whether you should be talking to someone else. That “someone else” might even be you.