Some “what if” scenarios.

Lazy: “What if we cut this corner?”

Greedy: “What if we kept this for ourselves?”

Generous: “What if we gave this away?”

Cautious: “What if it doesn’t work?”

Creative: “What if we tried this a new way?”

Receptive: “What if we just listened?”

Bold: “What if we just go for it?”

All what-ifs are not equal. What are some what-if questions you’re asking today?

Our internal reception is ever-changing. That’s why we need to hear things more than once. It’s why we need to hear things phrased in different ways and at different times.

It’s why a truth might resonate in the afternoon when it didn’t take hold in the morning. Or later in life rather than earlier.

Sometimes, we just don’t have eyes to see or ears to hear — in that moment.

But the universe is patient with us.

Thankfully.

If you’re considering a career shift or a significant personal change, and you haven’t established the goalposts, here’s a question to consider:

Who is living a version of the life I’d like to live?

This is a practical question. It’s not about envy. It’s not about comparison. It’s a question of learning one way that a certain kind of life might be lived.

What does work look like? How is income generated? What is family life like? How do they do it?

Approaching things from a perspective of, “I’m going to do this like no one has ever done it,” is not useful. Neither is, “I’m going to do things exactly as this other person has done them.”

But we can learn from how others have designed their lives. We can learn from their journeys. And we can take or leave what we’d like.

We need not be passive. Consider the kind of life you’d like to cultivate. Explore reasonable ways that you could make it happen.

Then, go.

Knowing what’s right can be clear … but it’s often clouded by our hesitancy to change, our irrational fear of personal loss, and our reluctance to experience discomfort.

When those things are stripped away (if we’re brave enough to consider it) forward paths become illuminated.

Some topics are not nearly as complicated as the gyrations inside our head.

If you’ve ever gotten off at the wrong stop, you know the uncomfortable feeling that it prompts: “This isn’t my stop. I wasn’t supposed to get off here. I should still be on the train!”

* * *

Maybe you feel like you’ve exited a certain train too early. Don’t panic. Don’t give up. Don’t seek permanent lodging unless you want to.

The trains are still running, and you can still get back on track to see where the journey takes you.

A wild rabbit was eating a long stalk of grass as I walked by. Upon noticing me, it paused for a moment (I was just a few feet away) and then resumed chewing … but it kept its eye on me.

There’s a lesson here about caution and fear.

We can exercise caution, and still keep working.

We can be afraid, and still take care of ourselves.

Awareness of potential danger doesn’t mean we need to come to a full stop. We can make small adjustments to keep ourselves safe while still doing the work that matters.

* * *

Let’s keep our eyes open … and let’s keep chewing.

“If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. Then quit. There’s no use being a damn fool about it.”

Humorist W. C. Fields’ advice is a useful reminder that there’s a time to keep trying and there’s a time to quit.

Are we sticking with the right things? Are we quitting the right things?

There’s heroism in carrying on and persevering … but only if we’re headed in the right direction.

Aligning with our values and goals can sometimes involve quitting one thing so that we can devote ourselves to another.

You will have wins. You will have losses. Prepare for each.

You will have successes. You will have failures. Prepare for each.

You will be treated fairly. You will be treated unfairly. Prepare for each.

You will feel motivated. You will feel unmotivated. Prepare for each.

* * *

Whatever happens — whether things seem to go our way or not — we can prepare ourselves. We can decide, ahead of time, how we’ll respond.

It’s not about being overly optimistic or endlessly pessimistic. It’s about knowing that life is beautifully unpredictable.

What we can control is ourselves. How we navigate the journey is our choice.

Throughout my formal education, I never liked writing. Looking back, I realize that what I really disliked was page and word-count requirements.

“Write a 500 word essay.”

“Your term paper should be no less than 10 pages in length.”

Those prompts always sounded horrible to me.

They still do.

In 2018, I began writing this blog. It was self-directed. There were not length requirements. There was no rubric. (At that point, there were no readers either.)

And something magical happened. In an instant, I was unlocked. I was able to write. I was unconstrained.

My posts could be short. They could be long, too, but I had no need to tease things out. I didn’t need to fill a page. I only had to let my ideas find expression in words. Nothing more.

* * *

I wonder: is there something blocking your creativity? Is it an unspoken requirement? Is it a leftover benchmark that you can now ignore?

What happens when you build space to play by the rules that you write?

Be open to bold advice … but beware of bold advice from insulated advisors.

Those who have big safety nets and fireproof coats won’t always take into account your potential to fall or get burned.

Assess your own risk tolerance accordingly.

I overheard a colleague having a disappointing customer service experience that ended with the agent on the phone rudely disconnecting the call.

My colleague’s problem still wasn’t solved, so he called back to speak to someone else. Now he wasn’t just a customer with a problem; he was a frustrated customer with a problem.

Consider the transition from the first agent to the second. Without having deserved it, the second agent had inherited a headache created by first.

This happens in many settings. One sour interaction creates a deficit — and the fallout is felt by the next person in line.

It’s good to remember this when you’re passing along an unsolved problem. Someone else will have to deal with the mess you’re creating.

And it’s good to remember this when you’re the one picking up where someone else left off. That person’s present state has been influenced by previous interactions.

And it’s good too, to keep all of this in mind when you’re on the receiving end.

Of course, this heredity isn’t always negative. It can be the opposite. When we’re at our best, we can create virtuous cycles where positive interactions spread.

Even better, the positive influence can begin from either side: from those serving or those being served.

You might feel un-qualified.

But you’re not necessarily dis-qualified.

* * *

We have the ability to — slowly but surely — form our future selves.

And doors that have shut don’t always stay locked.

For some people, as soon as they open their eyes, they’re wide awake.

For others, they’re not fully alert until sometime after they’ve gotten out of bed.

Our projects can begin similarly. Some of them come alive the moment we begin. Others need time — some groggy stumbling — before they come to full stride.

Either way, we can’t always wait for a perfectly refreshed spark. Sometimes we have to push through a sluggish beginning.

The hardest way of answering the question, “What do I do?”

… is by not effectively answering the question, “What do I want?”

You don’t need an instrument to make music.

You don’t need a canvas to be an artist.

You don’t need eyes to have vision.

You don’t need words to be poetic.

You don’t need movement to dance with joy.

* * *

Don’t let “if only” keep you from a world of possibility.

One way to determine walkway placement is to let them emerge naturally. As people navigate between and around buildings, paths begin to wear. These trails become the blueprints for more permanent construction.

Even better is the name for these lines: desire paths.

* * *

If you’re game, zoom out. Soak in the big picture of your life. Take note of your own desire paths. Do they follow the roadways that the culture has already paved? Perhaps there are some interesting lines that are the result of your own creative journeying.

When you’re feeling down, or uninspired, or listless … check the dashboard.

Are you hungry? Are you dehydrated? Have you been getting enough sleep? What have you been reading? What have you been watching? What have you been eating?

If you’re feeling off, you might not have lost your connection to the Muse. You might not have run out of good ideas. You might not have an underlying illness.

Of all the possibilities, begin by checking in on the simple things.

There’s an old saying in medicine: If you hear hoof beats, think of horses, not zebras.

You may indeed have some complex things going on … but tending to the simple things can often pay outsized dividends.

Paul Cézanne once said, “A work of art which did not begin in emotion is not art.”

Inasmuch as we can all feel, we can all make art.

Let yourself feel more.

From there, coax art into existence.

Sometimes we put our work into the world and we wait for it to catch fire. We send out sparks of creativity — watching to see if it spreads.

It’s easy to get discouraged if “catching fire” is all you’re looking for. Especially if it’s not happening.

But maybe the kind of work you’re doing is firefly work. A little bit of light. A brief glow. Magic in small doses.

Let it be so.

Remember: fireflies can light up the night with beauty.

How much does it take for us to be satisfied? To be grateful? To set aside critique?

Can we enjoy the coffee if we don’t like the mug?
Or a meal if the side is not to our liking?
A generous friend with one annoying quality?
A beautiful book with one boring chapter?
A great movie with a lackluster end?

We know this: perfection is impossible. It’s an illusion.

But there’s still much to love. Much to appreciate. Much to embrace.

We can focus on beauty or we can focus on flaws. It’s our choice — and there’s an endless supply of both.