While some people appear naturally content while disengaged, more often, a resting face seems stern. Austere.
The delight — the slackening of tension — comes when a friend walks into view.
The recognition creates an immediate, natural smile. A breath released. A sweet, softening of a once somber face.
Sometimes, the mere proximity of a friend can breathe new life into a dull moment.
When you only have a few dollars, you’re very careful about how you spend them.
Likewise, if you knew you only had a few days left in this life, you’d be very careful about how you spent them.
But even if we have many dollars, we can still spend each of them carefully.
And even if we think we have many days, we can still spend each of those days carefully, too.
Thing is, you can always make more dollars when you run low. You can’t do that with your remaining days.
The artist Abby Sangiamo once explained during a portrait drawing class: “Don’t be upset if — at first — you can’t get a good likeness (that is, the drawing doesn’t look very much like the person). Wait until you’ve drawn a hundred portraits. Maybe two hundred. If you can’t achieve a reasonable likeness after you’ve drawn two hundred portraits... then, come talk to me.”
The point is, sometimes we try something new once or twice and then we make a determination about our proficiency.
But most of the time, “once or twice” is way too soon to make that call. We’d serve ourselves better to do it a dozen times, or two dozen times, or two hundred times.
A dance. A magic trick. A soufflé. A business plan. Writing. Painting. Designing. Speaking. Singing.
Don’t expect perfect results at first. Expect to get better with dedicated practice and repetition; that’s how it works.
A week later, and I can still recall the friendly phone conversation I had with a restaurant manager.
I had called to order a gift certificate.
His cheery attitude. His projection of gratitude. His polish. His assurance, “Oh, they’re going to love this restaurant.”
The phone call was memorable, and it didn’t have to be.
One three-minute interaction. One experience. My first and only experience with that business.
The manager had no direct benefit from the call. He could have been cool. Transactional. Automated.
But he wasn’t. He was warm. Helpful. And even if he wasn’t happy, he sounded like he was.
A great restaurant experience doesn’t start with the first bite of an appetizer. Sometimes, it starts with the person who answers the phone.
Have a question to ask.
Not a question to make yourself look smart. Not a question to stump the speaker. Not a question that’s similar to something that has already been asked.
Rather, a question that will help you on your journey. A question that will prompt meaningful discussion. A question that will solicit a generous reply.
Whether you’re one-on-one, at a keynote, or connected digitally, don’t waste an opportunity to ask great questions.
It’s possible to work passionately without making a difference. And it’s possible to pour physical and emotional labor into unproductive work.
Like pedaling a bicycle when the chain has fallen off, or pressing a vehicle’s accelerator with the gear stick in neutral… we can work to the point of exhaustion without making change happen.
But with the right engagement, that cog you work so hard to spin… by connecting it to the right systems, the right people, the right machinery… your efforts can become the source of great movement.
It just takes a single point of proper engagement.
We like to anticipate big things. Holidays. Graduations. Anniversaries. Astronomical events.
But we can anticipate small things, too. The little joys.
The first sip of coffee. Lunch with a friend. An afternoon stroll. Evening meditation. A refreshing shower.
Joyful anticipation: it can happen often, if we seek it and delight in it.
Temporary doesn't always feel temporary. Sometimes, temporary feels permanent.
Pain. Suffering. Sorrow. In those experiences, we might need to consciously remind ourselves: this is temporary. Be patient. It will pass.
But the good things can be temporary too. Joy. Contentment. Peace. They can slip away unexpectedly. When you are wise enough to recognize them, embrace them. Cherish them. Feel them. Those beautiful moments don’t last forever.
Seeds represent possibility. Potential growth.
And with proper storage, seeds can last many years. That sense of possibility can be carefully wrapped up and kept in safety.
To plant, however — to seek germination — risks death as much as it promises new life.
So we have a choice: protect the seeds, or grow them... risking failure.
* * *
Unlike seeds, our hopes, dreams, ambitions, and inspirations cannot be kept indefinitely at minus 18°C.
If we don’t act on them, they’ll slowly, quietly expire. They’re not safe on the shelf. If we believe in them — if we truly believe in them — we must take the risk. We have to try. To plant. To grow. Yes, to risk failure... but also to risk success beyond what we can imagine.
When you’re always concerned about the next thing on the schedule, or the thing that’s happening somewhere else, then you’re missing out on what’s here, right now.
The irony is that when you actually are somewhere else, or when you’ve arrived at that next thing on the schedule, you’re probably not paying attention there either — because, you know, there’s always that next thing on the schedule, or something happening somewhere else.
We don’t always get praise for doing what we’re supposed to do. And that’s OK.
Because to laud adequacy is to defund the spirit of innovation.
Celebrating responsibility is positive reinforcement for small children. But we’re not small children, and we’re not bare-minimum people.
We’re let’s-do-better people. We’re above-and-beyond people.
We don’t need acknowledgement for just showing up. We show up because we’re supposed to show up. For us, it’s what we do after we show up that matters.
Just like the best products, systems, and services, the best relationships are those that have been tested, and have endured.
Relationships inevitably have some tension. And sometimes, it’s more serious.
For casual friendships, a single conflict might very well be a spoiler.
But strong relationships — enduring commitments — they see ups and downs. They share joy, and they weather conflict.
And with years of intentional connection and of vulnerable mending, two people sometimes find themselves joined through a beautiful, unbreakable bond. Tested, and lasting.
Collect the data.
Analyze the data.
Take appropriate action.
If you’re only doing the first two things, you’re missing the most important part.
Data tell a story. They offer clues. They can let you know whether you’re moving toward your goals.
But if you’re not going to do something based on what you learn from them, why are you collecting the data in the first place?
I overheard an exchange at a local small business. It went like this:
Will those be back in stock next week?
Maybe.
Really? Oh! That's wonderful. Can you please call me when they arrive?
I can…
It’s the way the shop owner said “I can” that was telling. The word “can” was up-and-down sing-song in a way that conveyed, “I can, but I certainly don’t want to do that.”
The customer seemed surprised by the tone.
I know that brick and mortar shops face all kinds of challenges, particularly when so many goods are available online with next-day shipping.
But interacting with customers face-to-face is an opportunity where shop owners have the advantage.
Replace the reluctant “I can” with a cheery “I’d be happy to do that” and you win the valuable loyalty of a customer.
If someone has left her home and traveled to your store with a willingness to buy your wares, show appreciation and serve her well.
Try to pursue work worthy of sacrifice. Not your own (that will happen naturally) but the sacrifices of others. That is, build something into your life so generous, so meaningful, so important, that other people are willing to make sacrifices in order to give you the opportunity to do your work.
We want to be relevant. There are a couple of ways we can deal with this desire.
We can identify a group to whom we’d like to be relevant, and bend to their will. Aim for that target. Try to meet their needs. Figure out what they like, and then do that as best we can.
We can start by looking inward. We can work really hard to be our best selves. We can give fuel to our passions. And then we can make ourselves visible. We can find connections, one by one. Real connections to people who find value in what we do.
The first method requires some research. It will involve flexibility. If the group shifts, you need to shift. They write the script, and you are the actor.
The second method requires patience. It requires discipline and emotional labor. But it gives you the freedom to dig deep. You are the writer, the actor, and the producer. Your measure is not how well you match what the group wants, but how well you can be the best version of yourself.
So, we can become relevant either way. It just depends on where we start looking. Outward, or inward.
Don’t forget that everything online is filtered. Social media, in particular. Content. Photos. Everything. What you see is what people want you to see.
So when you’re comparing your actual life to the filtered view of everyone else’s life... it’s never a fair comparison.
It’s better to stop comparing.
Sometimes, in an effort to help craft our identity, we’ll share some personal information with casual acquaintances. We’ll mention some academic coursework. Or a complex family situation. Or a hobby. Or a medical condition.
The problem occurs when we do this too often. When we lead with the same story each time. When we tell before we’re asked.
If we’re not careful, instead of being the person who is ______, we’ll be remembered as the person who always tells us he is ______.
It’s great to know who you are, and it’s important to have a story. But you don’t have to lead with that story every time we see you.
We are part of the orchestra, and we get to play some of the instruments. Maybe not all of the instruments, but some of them.
In some situations, we’ll be the concertmaster. In others, we’ll be third viola. We might have a solo, or we might have thirty measures of rest.
Sometimes we’ll be the salient call of the trumpet. Other times, we’ll be the deep warmth of the double-bass.
The point is, there are times when we contribute quite prominently, and there are times we contribute in a supporting roll.
But we’re always contributing, because we’re part of the orchestra.
The flower gets the attention, not the roots.
People are often more interested in the beautiful results than the hard work that’s gone into what you’ve done.
Very few will appreciate the root structure as much as you do.
Bloom anyway.