Just begin again. No need to shame yourself. No need to review your history. No need to keep a backlog of missed days, missed opportunities, broken promises, or backward stumbles.

Well-worn groves are well-worn for a reason. But you can create new patterns.

Just begin the effort again. Clean slate. Fresh start. No apologies necessary.

Just because you don’t like someone’s personality … doesn’t make them wrong.

And just because you like someone … doesn’t make them right.

Our feelings toward others can bias our tendency to agree or disagree with them.

But right or wrong is a lot bigger than differences in personality.

We might even benefit from giving more consideration to the opinions of those we dislike.

In some cases, could they be right?

Part of keeping the peace in a work environment is knowing when you’re off-cycle. That is, when the intensity of your work isn’t in sync with your colleagues.

For instance: you’re headed into a week of vacation while others are scrambling to finalize year-end reports.

Or: your mid-day break starts just when the office gets flooded with urgent requests.

Or: you’re minutes from a submission deadline while your colleagues are enjoying a laugh about a movie they recently watched.

Or: you’re trying to get a shipment out the door at the same time someone is socializing their new puppy.

(There are parallel experiences with households and families.)

When we’re on either side of the stress-level equation, it’s important to have some sensitivity to those operating in a different mode. Not that we should suffer silently, or celebrate secretly. But we can try to have awareness of our neighbor’s headspace.

We won’t always be in sync. We won’t always be in the weeds together. But it helps to have a sense of the temperature in your teammate’s corner.

If you’ve ever felt unqualified for a position, consider these inequivalent phrases:

“I’m unqualified.”
“Even with hard work, I cannot become qualified.”
“I don't have much experience.”
“I cannot gain experience.”
“I don’t have the requisite skills.”
“I’m unable to learn new skills.”

It’s unlikely that one would hold all of these statements to be true.

In most cases, “lacking qualifications” is not permanent state.

We can be beginners. We can grow. We can adapt.

But we can’t do any of it if we embrace “I’m unqualified” as a rigid verdict.

It’s only a verdict if we make it so.

Short-sighted critics are close enough to see you, but they can’t see far enough to understand your vision.

Educate them or ignore them. Either way, don’t let them stop you.

There may be periods of time when we have to work alone before others can see what we see.

Usually, the intense desire to quit will pass. So if you’re on a meaningful journey, it’s important to know what will get you through those moments when you want to stop, turn back, or lay down.

If you can learn to hold on in times of weakness, the storm will pass. Thankfully, mental fortitude is a skill that can be learned.

Of course, if you’re on a journey that isn’t meaningful or purpose-driven … an intense desire to quit probably shouldn’t be ignored.

It’s more than the start and stop, beginning and end.

What matters is what’s in the middle.

Consider sleep. The time between falling asleep and waking up is a mix of sleeping lightly, sleeping deeply, moments of wakefulness, and periods of dreaming.

The beginning and end are important factors, but what happens in between is of great consequence.

And so it is with life. When we’re born and when we die is significant, but what happens in between is what matters most.

You’ve still got some “in between” left. What will you do with it?

Public speaking. There are excellent lessons, workshops, coaches, and programs.

But compared to how often we have opportunities to speak in public, how many opportunities do we have to listen?

I wonder what might happen if we invested just as much effort in learning how to listen as we do in learning how to speak.

When we’re hungry, we can feel it. There’s a growling. A craving. A restlessness.

Even when we don’t recognize the cue, hunger reveals itself in our mood, our energy, and our feelings of satisfaction. We sometimes have to remind ourselves: oh, I haven’t eaten.

And it’s not just food.

We experience creative hunger too.

We’re hard-wired to be problem-solvers and makers. Creativity is in our DNA.

When those feelings of discomfort come, the fix might not be in the kitchen — it might be in the studio.

Not in consumption, but in production.

In a foot race, you’re unlikely to notice who’s cheering and who’s not. Either way, you wouldn’t stop to investigate.

But when the pace is slower, there’s more time to think. More time to wonder. More time to consider what’s happening in the spectator gallery.

That’s when self-doubt can begin to take root.

Learn from the fleet-footed runners. Have ears for encouragement, but remember that the most reliable motivation is already inside you.

“At this point in time”
“The fact of the matter is”
“Quite frankly”
“At the end of the day”
“The bottom line is”
“Let me be very clear”

As much as you can, avoid these phrases. They’re hesitation devices. Phrases to buy you time or to make you sound more authoritative.

But they’re filler, and we don’t need filler.

Be bold. Go straight for the content. You don’t need to clear your throat, and your words don’t need any fluffing.

My son, Oliver, was feeling a little nervous about an upcoming event. My wife’s advice to him was perfect.

“If you get nervous while you’re there, take a deep breath and say to yourself — just inside your head — ‘My name is Oliver St. Amant … and I am OK.’”

It’s some of the best advice I can imagine. Not just for second-graders. For all of us.

Remind yourself of who you are. Affirm that all is well.

If you’re seeking openness and honesty in others, model being open and honest.

We sometimes forget the power of taking the first step, but a little vulnerability can go a long way in fostering connection.

Just be sure to give it time. Connection happens at its own pace.

Create enough moments in your life where you can hear a light rainfall.

It’s a subtle sound.

If your walls are too thick, or there’s too much noise, or you never venture from comfort, you’ll miss the beauty of gentle rains.

Nature is persistent; it will be heard eventually.

But you don’t have to wait for storms and downpours to listen.

“It won’t be perfect. You might not even thing it’s good at times.
But it will be good enough.
And it might not turn out like what you see in your mind.
No. In fact, it won’t be like what you see in your mind.
Sometimes that’s frustrating.
But keep working. It will come.
Look closely, and notice what you notice.
In the beginning, don’t press so hard.
But once you think you’ve got something right, be confident.”

* * *

This is the consolidated advice that I gave to my seven-year-old son as he worked to draw a self-portrait.

I share it here because the advice has applications far beyond drawing.

The phrase “running around in circles” is often meant to convey action without achievement.

But the context matters.

You can get in really good shape with all that running.

Just because you’re not sprinting in a singular direction doesn’t mean you’re not doing meaningful work.

Keep those legs going.

If you’re worried that you’re wasting time … you are wasting time.

So stop.

Worrying is a way of practicing failure, and you don’t need that kind of practice.

You’re ready. Go about the work you’re meant to do. No delay necessary.

As I drove through the city, I wanted to retrieve an item from a bag in the passenger seat. I found myself hoping that one of the traffic lights would turn red to give me an opportunity to take my eyes off the road.

The thought that followed was a bit of self-admonition. “What’s wrong with you? If you want to stop, stop. You don’t need a traffic light to prompt the pause.”

How easily we get caught up in the movement of the system. How easily we find ourselves running because everyone around us is running.

But we don’t need the system’s permission to adjust our pace. We don’t.

When we need to pause, we can make that choice ourselves.

Cultural anthropologist Margaret Mead said, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”

In the face of all the big problems in this world, it’s easy to forget our ability to work together to achieve great change.

Remember that it doesn’t take everyone.

Small, thoughtful groups have done it before. Small, thoughtful groups will do it again.

You can even be part of one.

The story goes that Zig Ziglar approached the front desk at a fully booked hotel. A manager politely explained that there were no rooms available.

Zig: “If the president of the United States were to walk through the door and say, ‘I want a room,’ would you have one for him?”

Manager: “Well of course. If the president of the United States were to come in here, I’d have a room for him.”

Zig: “You can take my word. The president is not coming. Can I have his room?”

Sometimes asking clever questions is a better strategy than making harsh demands.