It would be easy to skip a day. Easy to take a short break. To pause, rest, set aside, shelve.

But some things are worth doing. Some streaks are worth keeping alive.

Even when you’re tired. Or doubting. Or lacking motivation.

Breathe deeply. Prompt a mental reset. Continue the practice. Keep the fire burning.

You’ll feel more at ease on the other side of a momentary challenge.

If you’re feeling uninspired, go back to the well.

You just have to know what “the well” is. It’s different for everyone.

For some, it’s solitude; for others, time with friends.

For some, it’s nature; for others, an urban landscape.

For some, it’s the work of the masters; for others, it’s clumsily trying something new.

It can come from sitting in quiet meditation, and it can come from vigorous movement.

Impatience will not help. Most often, inspiration comes unexpectedly … while we’re engaged with the practice. That is, we often have to take the first step.

Identify the well. Go there.

Not everyone is reasonable.

In fact, you can spend a lot of time and energy crafting a well-reasoned argument for someone who doesn’t listen to reason.

And it will be to no avail.

When someone is being unreasonable by your measure … more reason is unlikely to help. (They are likely being reasonable by their own estimation.)

Until you can find a way to soften the landscape, save your energy for those with ears to hear. Deep listening — from both sides — is always a part of the best way forward.

Rick Rubin’s insightful book is titled, The Creative Act: A Way of Being.

Note that the subtitle is not “a way of being seen” or “a way of being understood” or “a way of working”.

Simply a way of being.

Take heart in that.

In target archery, the center-most ring scores highest.

But not in darts. In darts, the red bull isn’t always the goal.

Bullseyes are alluring, but it helps to know which game you’re playing.

Sometimes, off-center might be exactly where you need to aim.

Rushing to the hydrant, dragging the hose, and dousing the flames can be heroic.

But if you’re the one who set the fire, it’s far less impressive.

Putting out fires is heroic, but there’s also heroism in fire prevention. It’s just that the preventative measures don’t tend to generate headlines.

View this as a metaphor for doing the quiet, steadfast work that helps to avert all kinds of disasters.

There’s coaching in the calm and there’s coaching in the moment.

They’re not the same.

Whether it’s self-coaching or coaching someone else, there’s a fundamental difference between what happens in training and what happens at game time.

It’s tempting to amplify the latter to make up for shortcomings in the former.

But that rarely works.

Robust coaching in the calm allows for more effective coaching in the moment.

In the best scenarios, primetime coaching only needs to reference what’s already been learned and practiced.

That is, it’s difficult to call upon a skill on stage … when that skill has yet to be developed behind the scenes.

In grade schools where there’s a summer break, there are two ways a class’ term approaches its end.

In one instance, the lessons continue as usual. The work might even intensify.

In the other, things slow down. They begin to show movies. Sometimes there are snacks.

In the story of your workday, your career, your life … which posture do you adopt? Is there time to learn a bit more? Time to create something new? Or do you wrap up early, settling for movies and snacks?

Perhaps you’ve found a healthy way to experience both modes.

Earlier this week, we had a day of much-needed precipitation.

During the rainfall, I found time to sit quietly. The sound of the raindrops on various surfaces was captivating.

I recorded 60 seconds of these sounds, thinking to post it here for you — that you might share in that moment with me.

But it was not to be.

In listening to the recording today, it falls short. Not only does it not capture the experience … it’s not even close. A mere shell of what had transpired. One-dimensional audio, and missing all of its substance.

* * *

We have to experience some things first-hand to experience them at all.

For these moments, recordings will always pale.

Travelling changes our surroundings, but it also changes our understanding, our perspective, and our thought patterns.

Travelling changes us.

If we travel and we have not been changed, then perhaps we have not truly travelled.

With no preface, a young child asked me the following series of questions:

“Dog or boat?” (boat)
“Dog or cat?” (dog)
“Cat or flower?” (flower)
“Flower or boat?” (boat)
“Dog or flower?” (dog)
“Boat or dog?” (You asked me that already. Dog, this time.)

I still have no clue about the survey’s purpose, but I was glad to participate.

Sometimes — often with children — it’s a game of improvisation. A posture of saying “yes, and …” and going with the flow.

Suspending judgement allows us to play, and we need more play.

Less, “Wait, but why?” and more, “Sure, I’ll join in.”

Curiously: when interacting with adults, sometimes the opposite advice is appropriate.

Good design and reliability are independent qualities.

If you’re going to build something that lasts forever, it’s wise to take extra care in designing it well.

Change is a condition of vitality. No change, no living.

Stasis is not living. In a way, it’s death.

Perfectly tidy, untouched — that’s for museums and hotel rooms.

Living brings along a bit of mess. We don’t have to keep it messy, but we can welcome occasional mess as a sign of life.

In taking apart a small box, I saw printed text in an unexpected space.

“Ooh, hello there.

You’ve stumbled into our secret spot. It’s a great place to store coins, receipts, and other tid-bits that don’t belong in your pockets, or down the side of your sofa.

If you’re not into that, that’s okay. Because 100% of this packaging is made from FSC accredited paper — with no harsh chemicals, plastics or laminates so you can recycle it along with the pulp tray that’s in your other hand.

Thanks for stopping by.”

I’m generally not drawn to contrived folksiness in products and ads, but this one got me. It’s enjoyable to find a thoughtful message in a surprising place.

Moments like these let the user know that the designer was anticipating a specific act. It’s fun to be on the receiving end of that. Probably fun for the designer, too.

“I just play the songs the best I can, inspired by the seasons and the topographies and regions, and, occasionally, by sociological elements, and try to improve as a player over time.”

George Winston, in his own words.

He had phenomenal skill, a deep knowledge of his craft, and a kind, humble nature.

Rest in peace, George. Your music lives on.

A common psychological metaphor: the best way to stop a tug of war is to put down your end of the rope.

Whether someone’s at the other end, or it’s an immovable challenge, there are times when the best thing to do is to consciously drop the rope.

From the prologue of This American Life, Episode 178.

Ira Glass: “When we were weak we told ourselves we were strong. And sometimes — if we were very weak — we told ourselves we were very, very strong.”

We are often fortune tellers. Not because of premonitions, self-fulfilling prophecies, or foregone conclusions. But because we invent the world we see in our minds. We lean into who we tell ourselves we are.

When we speak of defeat, we draw it to ourselves.

And when we speak of strength and resilience, we become them.

It’s not that the air is stagnant. It’s just that we’re moving too fast.

Sometimes, to feel the delicate breeze, we have to sit very, very still.

And sitting still runs counter to our usual stimuli.

Rather, sitting still while undistracted — being fully present — is not our usual mode.

But it’s a worthwhile practice.

There is, after all, the delicate breeze that awaits us.

“Excuse me. Would we be able to use your electricity, please? I have a 100-foot extension cord.”

The person setting up the public address system for a street fair in our town was asking for help. (We were happy to give access to a receptacle.)

One thing I like about this interaction is that the requestor was making it easy for us to help. He knew he would need electricity that day. Instead of showing up with empty hands, he brought along something that made the assist effortless.

* * *

Arriving prepared doesn’t always mean bringing everything you need; sometimes it means you’ve considered the conduits through which others can be helpful.

When you make helping easy, you’ll find help often.

To properly close the side gate in our yard, you need to lift the handle an inch.

This is how the hardware has worked for ten years. (We don’t use this entrance often.)

I had become so used to lifting the gate that I never considered aligning the hardware.

Yesterday, I removed the latch mechanism and reinstalled it … an inch lower.

With two minutes’ effort, everything now works swimmingly.

From time to time (or maybe all the time) it’s good to look around to see where we can reduce friction, where we can create alignment, and where we can help things to work as they should.

It might not take much time or effort to make a change that has lasting impact.