We learn much more when we lose than when we win.

It would be fun if we could always win and learn at the same time.

But it doesn’t work that way.

This is why it’s so important to reframe our failures.

Losing is learning, and learning leads to more opportunities to win.

There’s an idea in golf: professionals underreact, amateurs overreact.

We can imagine what this looks like. Recovering from errant shots. Sticking with the game plan. Responding with level-headed strategy rather than unbridled emotion.

This, compared to making bad things worse. To spiraling out of control. To losing perspective. To acting irrationally.

Underreaction: it's an approach that could serve us well in so many areas of life.

“We had a lot of money, and we spent it.”

Real estate eyesores. Corporate waste. Gaudy décor.

The problem with having a lot of resources is that you can be a little reckless. You can make foolish choices and still play again tomorrow.

But when budgets are tight and margins are thin, good decision-making is key to survival.

The goal is to make good decisions regardless of whether there are assets and safety nets. To choose wisely when rich and to choose wisely when poor.

Just because you can weather mistakes doesn’t mean you need to make them.

A sidewalk in town had some chalk messages. The “One Way” arrow caught my eye. Pointing in the opposite direction was a second arrow labeled “Another Way”.

Turns out, this pairing is not too uncommon for stock photos and t-shirts. But I do like the thoughts it prompts.

Too often — outside of driving — we look for one-way signs. The one right way to do things. The exemplar.

But mostly, what we see is just one way. Not the one way … that is, the only way. Just a way.

So our invitation is to honor that way, and then — if we want — to seek out other ways. To explore what has yet to be charted, and to find our own way.

You can be right and still be friendly.

You can ask difficult questions and still be warm.

You can give instructions and still be gracious.

Ego and condescension don’t need to be the outerwear of expertise and authority.

Choose kind over clinical. It makes a difference.

“Oh! Look at how beautiful!” the woman said to her husband. “My goodness,” he replied, “It’s just lovely.”

They were noting the shape of the mountainous skyline — a backdrop to the valley.

A casual observer might have thought these were tourists, but no. These were locals of forty, maybe fifty years. They’d have seen this particular part of the skyline hundreds, if not thousands of times.

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Part of a well-lived life is not just recognizing beauty — but continuing to be moved by it long after it’s become familiar.

Sometimes our dog doesn’t just like to lay down near you — he likes to lay down next to you, so that he’s leaning on you. Even if there’s plenty of room elsewhere on the couch. Even if his plush, comfortable dog bed is completely unoccupied.

It makes me think: the ones who love us sometimes push on us — literally and figuratively. Sometimes it’s out of love. Sometimes it’s a message: “I’m here.” And sometimes it’s just out of a desire for closeness.

In 2013, composer John Williams said this about scoring films:

“Sometimes, it takes weeks of changing things and moving them around, and a few simple notes, to eventually guide it into a state of inevitability, where the ear doesn’t have any argument any longer about the path we’ve taken melodically.”

His words are about writing music, but they’re analogous to many creative processes. We find our way and find our way and massage the work into a state of inevitability — to a place where there’s a kind of agreement about the journey.

Life can even be this way too, where it takes time testing, shifting, and moving things around until they’re just right and we’re at peace with the path.

A warm, sunny day can begin as a cold, wet trial.

So when we look at the forecast, we can’t just look at the highlights — we have to survey the entire day.

So it is with projects and endeavors. There will be highs and lows. We need to expect both. We need to prepare for both. And really, we ought to appreciate both for what they are.

“Contact us if you’re serious.”
“Contact us if you’re curious.”

Both are relevant stipulations, but the latter brings more people to the table.

Without openness to the curious outsider, there’s little hope in finding the serious insider.

We begin with curiosity.

“… except when you’re hungry and there aren’t other options.”

Take it as a metaphor.

When our needs increase and our options decrease, we quickly become less picky.

What we’re willing to do reflects the balance (or imbalance) of our needs and our options.

When my children were in pre-school, their teacher (wisely) used a clever way to communicate time: sleeps.

When is our special guest visiting? Two sleeps from now.
When is the reading buddy activity? Three sleeps from today.
When is the field trip? Six sleeps away.

We often measure time in days, but our body naturally understands time by the number of nights we sleep between now and what we’re anticipating.

Indeed, the concept of “sleeps” is much more approachable than having to wait days.

Have compassion. Be sympathetic. Give the benefit of the doubt.

You’re not a schmuck for practicing these things. You’re not getting duped. You’re being a good human, and we need more good humans.

Three out of four is not too bad. Nine out of ten? Even better.

Unless you’re counting wheels on a car or sections of a bridge.

There are many scenarios where partials are good enough. Plenty others, however, where we don’t celebrate anything short of one hundred percent.

A healthy mind knows the difference between the two.

Far better to lose the right way than to win the wrong way.

In the long run, the pattern of how we play matters more than the individual outcomes.

I stood under an umbrella watching a cold, wet, fall baseball game. I overheard the head coach say sincerely, “No place I’d rather be.”

It reminded me of a cartoon I once saw. Two men were fishing from a boat. Two other men were on a nearby golf course. All four were being pummeled by rain. The fishermen looking the golfers, the golfers looking at the fishermen … each pair thinking, “Idiots.”

We gladly do what we love, even when the circumstances are less than perfect.

Wishing you ideal conditions — and knowing you’ll be at it either way.

Often, what’s loved most isn’t what’s pristine and untouched. What’s loved most is evidenced by its patina and wear.

Our deepest love isn’t expressed with shelves and glass vitrines.

Like a tattered stuffed animal, the worn edges of a book, or the threshold of a beloved home … well-worn is often well-loved.

Look for the signs.

One beautiful thing about creativity is that often, burning a small bit of fuel doesn’t deplete the tank. Rather, it refills the reservoir.

There’s little to lose and much to gain. We just need to begin, even if we begin small.

“I’m not perfect. I make plenty of mistakes.” This is an easy phrase to say. I believe it. I know it. It comes with no feelings of guilt or shame.

However … hearing the phrase, “You made a mistake,” isn’t quite as comfortable. Even worse when there are consequences.

A general acceptance of imperfection is not too difficult. An acceptance of specific imperfections is more of a challenge.

Knowing that we err is easy; knowing the error is less so.

In the 1800s, German electrical engineer Werner Siemens created a device that turned mechanical power into electric current. He called the invention a dynamoelektrischemaschine, or “dynamo-electric machine”.

The word dynamo is well past its heyday (circa 1891) but it’s still occasionally used. For example, it describes a particular type of bicycle hub that can power a light. Or a person with a certain kind of energy.

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Energy conversion is a useful skill we can develop. It’s that moment between feeling inspired and taking action. The moment between having a vision and bringing that vision to life. Between feeling creative and being creative.

Harness the opportunity. Be the dynamo.