All of us stumble; it’s part of being human. But sometimes we catastrophize such stumbling.

There’s a common phrase in Argentina: Un tropiezo no es caída.

A stumble is not a fall.

It’s a simple reminder of hope and the value of having perspective.

The beauty of course-correction is that it can be done at any time.

It requires no special conditions. It promises no particular outcomes.

Yes, it sets a new point on the horizon, but for the near-term, the adjustment is immediate and within reach.

Course-correction is about small changes that will eventually have outsized effects. Let the effects not be our primary concern; instead, let’s focus on the small changes. The long-term positive effects will take care of themselves.

In many situations, faster isn’t harder — it’s just different.

Often, slower is what’s harder … but it can also be more valuable.

Some of the most important and meaningful work we ever do can take only a few minutes or a few hours … but it takes years of gathering up enough nerve to do it.

And that’s OK.

“Many hands make light the work.”

But the hands must volunteer. Or be directed. Or invited.

Without coordination, more hands can become part of the burden instead of the solution.

We live in a world of sufficiency. Not all of us, but many of us.

So much so that we often have leftovers. Leftover food. Leftover time. Leftover energy. Leftover resources. Leftover attention.

And the question is: what do we do with it?

Who wants it? Who needs it? Who deserves it? Who will gladly take it if we don’t make an intentional choice otherwise?

Most of it won’t keep; we can’t hoard it. So where will it make a difference?

Saying “thank you” is a practical courtesy.

It can be short and simple, or laden with detail.

But the best thanks is the kind we express with actions, not words.

Suffering correlates tightly with how much attention we give to things outside of our influence.

Focus on what’s within your control. (And, accept that your mind is often the only item on that short list.)

You don’t attend the funeral because you know what to say. You attend the funeral because simply being present can be of comfort.

Not every act of kindness requires words, gestures, or gifts.

Sometimes what’s needed is your time and attention. Sometimes what’s needed is for you to be present as witness and friend.

The darkest times are often the quietest times.

In those moments, it’s our own voice that speaks loudest.

Don’t amplify the difficulties. Don’t soak in despair.

Be the encourager. Be the gentle coach. Speak words of hope — even if you don’t yet fully believe them.

You are your own travelling partner. Be a supportive guide no matter the weather.

• All new. Meticulous attention to detail.

• Needs work. Available as-is.

• Carefully maintained. Lots of character.

• Historic landmark.

• Currently occupied by tenants.

These real estate phrases make for entertaining metaphors if we think about how they might describe people and new connections.

I wonder: how would you describe yourself?

Which stopped working first? You or the new habit?

The problem with “will begin to see results in four to six weeks” is that we often don’t have weeks worth of patience. We’d rather see the results right now, thank you very much.

Whether it’s a new medicine, a fitness routine, a creative practice, or studying new material … change doesn’t always happen overnight. More often, change is gradual. And for what might seem like too long, change can be invisible. Like a germinating seed, the (important) initial stages of growth can be hidden from our eyes.

Trust the process. Give it time. Work worth doing is reward worth waiting.

We all start somewhere.

Nothing says we have to keep starting from that same place.

Often, it’s a choice.

Nodding your head is easy, much easier than taking follow-up action.

It’s thrilling to discover new ideas and truths. We read something and think, “Yes! Exactly!” But highlights, underlines, and sticky notes don’t amount to change.

Indeed, the gulf between theory and practice can be huge.

The question is often: Now that I know this, what will I do?

“I am not throwin’ away my shot.”

Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Hamilton teaches us the importance of taking our shot.

But it’s just as important to remember that for the most part, we get many shots. Maybe not a second shot at the same thing, but other shots in other situations. Some might even be bigger. Many will be smaller.

Whether we win or lose, leap or freeze, new opportunities will always be on the horizon.

So take your shot, and then look for the next. It will be along.

What are your rules for living? Do you play it by ear? Perhaps you’ve written them down. Maybe yours are drawn from sacred texts.

If you haven’t codified them, it could be useful. It could be helpful, too, to browse others’ rules.

Take clinical psychologist Jordan B. Peterson’s list. The table of contents from his book 12 Rules for Life is compelling, even without further explanation.

Rule 1 / Stand up straight with your shoulders back
Rule 2 / Treat yourself like someone you are responsible for helping
Rule 3 / Make friends with people who want the best for you
Rule 4 / Compare yourself to who you were yesterday, not to who someone else is today
Rule 5 / Do not let your children do anything that makes you dislike them
Rule 6 / Set your house in perfect order before you criticize the world
Rule 7 / Pursue what is meaningful (not what is expedient)
Rule 8 / Tell the truth—or, at least, don’t lie
Rule 9 / Assume that the person you are listening to might know something you don’t
Rule 10 / Be precise in your speech
Rule 11 / Do not bother children when they are skateboarding
Rule 12 / Pet a cat when you encounter one on the street

What are some of your own guiding principles? (I’d love to hear them.)

“One way or another” is a useful attitude, unless we become too focused on the “one way” and forget about the countless other possibilities.

Our first attempts won’t always work, and it can be hard to overcome the sting of that experience.

But overcome it we must.

Lots of people can make a first attempt. Far fewer have the resilience to try again.

The better we can get at making additional attempts, the better we’ll be in the long run.

I know a purchasing manager who has a “worry board”. It’s an affectionate term for a whiteboard that lists all the parts in short supply or with long lead times.

What’s nice about the whiteboard is that it has a physical limitation; it can only list so many things. It’s a double-edged sword, though. Concerns are top-of-mind so they aren’t forgotten, but that also means that they’re always staring at you.

* * *

What’s on your own worry board? Is it in plain view? Is it all rational? Has it gotten overgrown? What would happen if you switched to a smaller size?

What would happen if you wiped it clean?

Trust. Make. Do. Allow.

Work, and work hard. None of it happens without hard work.

Purpose and meaning will reveal themselves — little by little — not in advance of the work, but through the work.

Stop running. Start feeling.

Don’t wonder by thinking, wonder by doing.

You can hit every red light along the way … and still be on the right path.

Delays and setbacks aren’t coded messages that you’re going the wrong direction; they’re a normal part of every worthwhile journey.