What’s important?
What’s urgent?
What’s interesting?

We spend our lives making choices in response to these questions.

And too often regretting when we’ve mistaken one for another.

Many a thing will masquerade as all three. But few things are so.

You don’t discard a radio because it’s emitting static; you tune it.

People can be the same way. It’s not that they’re broken. It’s just that they’re tuned to a poor station — or not tuned to anything at all.

In our better moments, we can help each other to find the signal.

“I stayed at work late.”
“I put a lot of effort into this.”
“I skipped lunch.”
“I came in on my day off.”

There are a lot of things people say when they really mean something else. Most workplaces don’t have a culture of laid-bare honesty. So what we hear can often be code for something deeper. Something like:

“I don’t feel appreciated.”
“I feel like I’m working harder than others.”
“I’m someone who needs acknowledgement.”
“I don’t feel seen.”

Look for the clues. Consider, “Why is this person saying this? Is there a need that’s not being met?”

You might have a conversation about it. Maybe. But even if you don’t, you can make a habit of witnessing with empathy.

Strategy, aim, execution. You can’t just have one or two; you need all three.

A good direction without action. A well-played move toward the wrong target. A solid plan, poorly carried out. And so on …

Strategy, aim, execution. For things to work, we need a healthy balance of the lot.

A car pulled out in front of me. The move was mildly reckless. As it passed, I noticed a large dent on the side of the vehicle.

Some observations:

1. Upon seeing the dent, I created a story that fit what I saw. “This is an unsafe driver who is likely to cause accidents. This dent is evidence.”

2. What I witnessed may or may not be typical of this driver. There’s no way for me to know. Nonetheless, I told myself the story that it was on-brand.

3. A mile down the road, I was in a parking lot at the same lunch spot as this vehicle — quite happy I hadn’t created a scene earlier.

The whole thing reminded me to not always believe the stories I invent about people (based on ten-second interactions). And also, there are plenty of times when not escalating a situation is a prudent choice.

Phone trees, chat bots, recorded options — they’re imperfect.

It can be intensely frustrating. It can make you want to shout.

But when you’re yelling at a robot, who does it hurt?

Hint: it’s not the robot.

Someone may quote you — but not necessarily what you’d want them to quote.

If you’re asked for a statement, you might carefully curate what you’d like to say.

But most often, we’re not asked for statements; they’re just captured as we speak. Sometimes out of context. Often not of our choosing. That is, what someone quotes of you might not be something you’d quote yourself as saying.

The point is not to fight with this reality. Rather, to recognize it and accept it. And to notice it happening in the world.

Noise surrounds us — internal and external. Some of it gets highlighted. Some of it gets ignored. Generally, whether a thing gets a lot of attention is out of our control.

What we can control is how we think about it and how we respond.

How do we handle mistakes other than to circle, annotate, and highlight with a bright, red pen?

The other way is with the eraser: the correction that makes the error disappear.

We can use a red pen publicly. Or we an use an eraser privately; not necessarily secretly, but not on the grandstand either. We can do it collaboratively, one to one.

If you’ve been on the receiving end of this, then you know the feeling of great relief when you don’t hear, “You’ll pay for this,” and instead hear, “Let’s make this right, like it never happened.”

There’s a time and place for certain kinds of accountability. But there’s also a place for mercy, forgiveness, and clearing the slate.

Just because you’re doing good work doesn’t mean you’re never going to make a mess.

Sometimes good work kicks up a bit of dirt. Sometimes it causes a little chaos. Sometimes it’s uncomfortable.

But that’s not a reason to avoid the work.

Sometimes, avoiding making a mess is really just an excuse to hide from the work.

In many worthy endeavors, mess is part of the process. (So tidying is part of it, too.)

Sometimes we get surprising results. We put in a little work and we’re greatly rewarded. Or we put in a lot of work and the return is very little.

But often — maybe even most of the time — the outputs are exactly what we should expect when compared to the inputs.

There’s a lot of truth to the old phrase, “You get out of it what you put into it.”

Friend: “How are you?”
Me: “Good. Well, maybe a little tired.”
Friend: “What are you going to do?”

* * *

Sometimes, all it takes is a simple question to awaken us. Care wrapped in curiosity, calling us to attention.

The question, “What are you going to do?” is a kind invitation to grasp the wheel. A reminder that we can make a plan and course-correct. That we’re not victims of our circumstances; we’re authors of our future.

Is something within you misaligned our out of balance?

If so, what are you going to do?

“I play golf” vs “I’m a golfer.”
“I make art” vs “I’m an artist.”
“I write poems” vs “I’m a poet.”
“I play the piano” vs “I’m a pianist.”

There’s a subtle but important difference in how we tell the story.

Our actions or our identity. What we do or who we are. They can be one and the same. But it’s not necessarily so.

Though, when we say, “This isn’t just what I do, it’s who I am,” we’re expressing a deep and abiding commitment that surpasses mere activity.

What we do and who we are. Pondering the intersections and overlaps could offer valuable, personal insights.

The leftovers are yours.

When you give in to anger, judgement, resentment, and agitation … you leave with the leftovers. The residue of those interactions is sticky.

And when you engage with compassion, patience, kindness, and joy … you likewise depart with the remainder. Their essence accompanies you.

Whatever you choose to serve, you’ll have a portion of your own.

Mind the menu, mind the leftovers.

Sometimes the reason we can’t figure out the answer is because we’ve misunderstood the question.

Or if it’s a question of our own, perhaps we’re somehow asking the wrong one.

And if either of these is true — no amount of hard work or perseverance will help. We’ll end up exhausting ourselves.

Before the seeking the answer, get super clear on the question.

Talking about problems can help bring awareness. But it can also feel like we’re doing important work — that we’re solving something.

And if we need to be heard, or we need to find affiliation, or we need to explore the details of an issue … then the job is done. Talking solves it.

But more than likely, the real problem is not that we need to talk.

* * *

The difficult work is in moving beyond, “This is a problem,” and arriving at, “What can we do about it?”

It’s uncomfortable. It prompts action. It calls for accountability. It invites participation.

But that’s where we’re called to be. Not close to the problems, but close to the possible solutions.

One of the reasons I write every day is because of the thought that if I stop, I might not ever write again. Because we’re people of habits and patterns. Because we’re good at streaks.

And we can keep healthy streaks just as much as we can keep unhealthy streaks.

In choosing our streaks, we choose the kind of life we live — and in a way, the kind of people we are.

Choose wisely. Choose with intention.

Video calls have changed the way we communicate. Seeing. Hearing. It can be nearly as good as being in the same room.

But there’s still a unique intimacy to a simple phone call.

Find a comfortable chair, call a friend, and close your eyes during the conversation.

There’s something magical about a single voice in our ear — when we’ve literally closed our eyes to the rest of the world.

We have dozens of new ways to connect, but sometimes the older methods resonate in ways worth remembering.

Choose reasonable, practical dreams. By aiming low, you’ll dramatically increase your likelihood of success.

But at that point, you might not even bother using the word “dream.”

No. When you dream, dream big. And yes, actually attaining these dreams will require a lot of work and a little luck. But why not try?

We’re not engineered for mediocrity. We have a built-in instinct and desire to find the edges and push on them. We have a natural attraction toward the impractical and improbable.

So find a way.

Be practical in your approach … and wildly impractical in your aspiration.

Go easy with yourself. Be kind. Be gentle.

Even in striving. Even in battle.

Because sometimes we forget, and we need to hear that advice from the outside.

Go easy with yourself.

Consider a simple pendulum: a pivot point, a long rod, and a bob.

Imagine gently holding the pivot point between your thumb and forefinger. The bob swings back and forth on a graceful arc. Its trajectory is smooth and naturally rhythmic.

Now imagine holding the rod instead — rotating it manually to guide the bob along its arc.

The first way works perfectly. The second way, not so much.

When we hold the pendulum at its pivot, we allow the bob to move as it seeks to move. When we try to control the movement ourselves, it’s clumsy and contrived. A lot more effortful, too.

Sometimes we’re in full control. But most of the time, we’re called to be more of a guide, an usher, a steward, or channel. We contribute to the conditions and circumstances, but we yield to the way things seek to move.

We make things happen, but we also know when to loosen our grip … allowing the elements to flow as they wish.