When I Get Time
[Starting & Finishing - XIII]
When I get time, I’ll do it.
When I get time, I’ll make a plan and chart a path forward.
When I get time, I’ll set goals and pursue my dreams.
When I get time . . .
You don’t passively “get” time. Nobody goes out of their way to give you a few hours here and there.
Time must be targeted.
Demanded.
Even stolen.
Nobody else has your time. You can't steal it from the guy down the street or the woman in the other office.
You have it! The only way to “get” time is to take it from something else. Something less important. Something distracting.
Often you must steal it from your comfort.
Cheerleader > Yes-man
[Starting & Finishing - XII]
A yes-man (excuse the tone-deaf, culturally insensitive, gendered language) is exactly as it sounds: a person that only says “Yes”. It’s someone who gives uncritical praise, support, and compliments. But their motives are always suspect; their compliments are always slightly off-center, even disingenuous. When the hype or the fame leaves, so do they.
A cheerleader, on the other hand, singed up for the job regardless of the record. They are there, win or lose, to wear the colors, wave the pom-poms, scream, yell, and chant. They arrive early, stay late, and stand on the field, in the thick of the action. In good times and bad, a good cheerleader sounds the same.
A yes-man doesn’t contribute to your success—to your starting and finishing that goal you have. If anything, they’re a bottom feeder on your progress, publicly supportive but privately eating away at your wellbeing.
A cheerleader is a steady backdrop of positivity. Not always “accurate” but always necessary, they show up and cheer you on, regardless of circumstances.
As creatives, as change-makers, and passionate and motivated leaders, we need at least one cheerleader. More are better. One is a good start.
Investors, Cheerleaders, Partners
[Starting & Finishing - XI]
There are no self-made millionaires.
That guy that came from nothing: he got a hand from someone. That gal that worked three jobs and finally got her break: thousands of forces and dozens of people contributed to the road she traveled.
We don’t get from here to there on our own. Someone must show up on our behalf at some point.
The sooner we acknowledge life is not a solo act, the sooner we can set ourselves to the task of finding others willing to invest in us (and vise versa).
We all need investors, cheerleaders, and partners.
All it takes is an ask.
Often people are honored.
Weekly Roundup: Starting & Finishing (Round 2)
January 25 - 29, 2021
Monday: Perhaps your marathon goal, having worked backwards from 26 miles on race day, begins with the small commitment to putting your shoes by the front door at 8:00am so they greet you when you come home from work at 5:00pm.
Tuesday: This is different than helping to get something in return. It’s not the same as strategic reciprocity. Scratching your back so you’ll get my itch is really leveraging (exploiting?) the innate desire to help in all of us for my own good.
Wednesday: Speed is a better measurement of technique than progress. In our forward march of changing the world (or our neighborhood), even the smallest progress should be highlighted and celebrated.
Thursday: When we graduate high school—if we leave it behind—we pick our critics . . . and we pick our cheerleaders. That is, not everyone gets the privilege to comment on the value we bring, the gifts we offer, the energy we invest. We choose.
Friday: Where you are and what you know must be held gently, with a humility that is at least greater than your assurance in your own capabilities to discover and defend the truth.
Are you interested in the whole reflection? Click on any day, and it will take you there.
Want to help grow the community of people like us that are unwilling to continue in ways like this? Help us spread the word: share on Facebook, Twitter, or with a friend via email. Find the links below.
Beginning with Humility
[Starting & Finishing - IX]
There is no finishing without progress.
And there is no progress without measurements and momentum.
And there are no measurements and momentum without at least getting started.
And, quite honestly, there is no starting without a stirring that something needs fixing.
And there’s no stirring without a conviction something is broken.
And there’s no conviction without perspective.
And there’s no perspective without learning.
And there’s no learning without a commitment to holding what you know gently.
Finishing doesn’t begin with confidence but humility.
Where you are and what you know must be held gently, with a humility that is at least greater than your assurance in your own capabilities to discover and defend the truth.
People like us that are unwilling to continue with the way things are must hold our convictions in tension with the more basic truth that we can always listen more deeply, learn more fully, see more clearly, and even potentially be wrong.
Choose Your Critics
[Starting & Finishing - VIII]
In ninth grade—probably much earlier, but it really picks up in high school—we give permission to everyone to be our critics and thereby determine our market value in the social (or any other) economy.
Jerry said we don’t know how to dress. We’re not cool.
Sarah poked fun at our pimples. We’re not popular.
Teachers do it too.
Mr. Steward gave us a C in art. We’ll never be a designer.
Ms. Shantel said we struggle with reading. We shouldn’t pursue journalism.
When we graduate high school—if we leave it behind—we pick our critics . . . and we pick our cheerleaders. That is, not everyone gets the privilege to comment on the value we bring, the gifts we offer, the energy we invest. We choose.
In high school, it’s anyone who wants. As adults, only a select few are granted permission.
Make your circle of trustworthy critics small. And be sure to include a few cheerleaders.
Progress not Speed
[Starting & Finishing - VII]
You can’t run a marathon like a 40 yard dash.
You can’t run a single mile like an all out sprint, either.
Heck, you can’t run a 200 yard dash like a 40 yard dash.
An all-out sprint works for one thing and one thing only: an extremely short burst of explosive speed over a short period of time. (And many of us would probably pull a hamstring in the process.)
But every 40 yards, even if traversed slowly, counts. And there’s a lot of 40 yard increments in a mile (44) and a marathon (1,153). Each one should be celebrated.
Speed is a better measurement of technique than progress. In our forward march of changing the world (or our neighborhood), even the smallest progress should be highlighted and celebrated.
Choose achievable milestones. Celebrate them.
Ignore the speed—we’re in it for the long haul.
Strategic Reciprocity?
[Starting & Finishing - VI]
Nobody got here on their own. Other people helped. Usually a lot.
We instinctively want to help others. There’s a certain satisfaction in seeing someone with a big gap between A to B and knowing I can be the one to help narrow it. It’s hardwired into us that we need each other, and when push comes to shove, I’m here to lend a hand for your sake.
This is different than helping to get something in return. It’s not the same as strategic reciprocity. Scratching your back so you’ll get my itch is really leveraging (exploiting?) the innate desire to help in all of us for my own good.
Starting and finishing your thing will require help from others. Please don’t manipulate the goodness of others to fast-track your progress.
If you see someone in need, help.
It’ll come around.
Smaller Chunks
[Starting & Finishing - V]
Break your goal into smaller chunks.
Make them measurable.
And doable.
Having the goal of running a marathon is wonderful, but if you’re not reaching your weekly marks, you’re not only not making the necessary progress, you’re increasing the likelihood you won’t reach the prize.
8 total miles running by week two is a smaller chunk. It’s measurable. And it’s worth celebrating.
There are even smaller chunks. Marathon training is broken into weekly goals, but weekly goals can easily be broken into smaller, daily chunks. 2 miles/day for the first week is a good start.
What about hourly chunks?
Perhaps your marathon goal, having worked backwards from 26 miles on race day, begins with the small commitment to putting your shoes by the front door at 8:00am so they greet you when you come home from work at 5:00pm.
It’s simple.
Symbolic.
And powerful.
That’s the smallest of chunks. But it’s as critical to success on race day as is any other training component.
Breaking our goals into small, daily, even hourly chunks, is how we make large-scale change.
Do you have a huge goal? It might begin with putting shoes by the front door.
Weekly Roundup: Starting & Finishing
January 18 - 22, 2021
Monday: It seems everyone has started a company, launched a new thing, made a new goal or New Year’s resolution, or started a grand project. Kuddos to them. Starting is hard. It really is. But how many people have finished, shipped, sent, and delivered on that thing? Finishing is at least 10X harder.
Tuesday: Visions are easy to come by. Think big. Exceed expectations. A picture, however, puts us in the vision, and moves the vision from a distant dream to an immersive experience in the future.
Wednesday: Sometimes to start something we must finish something else. They don’t appear connected. They are. What's your unfinished “business" that needs to be addressed? It could be the logjam holding up the current thing you want to start.
Thursday: “Aren’t you curious about the smell of the fresh-baked bread at the Last Supper? I mean, how can we dream of being apart of a thing in which we don’t dare imagine the smells in the room?”
Friday: Don’t allow someone else to tell you if the pain is intrinsic to the process of starting and finishing your thing. Often times it is. Dig down. Listen to yourself. Only you can know.
Are you interested in the whole reflection? Click on any day, and it will take you there.
Want to help grow the community of people like us that are unwilling to continue in ways like this? Help us spread the word: share on Facebook, Twitter, or with a friend via email. Find the links below.
Pain, Gain, and Your Thing
[Starting & Finishing - V]
“No Pain, no Gain”.
Who hasn’t heard that adage a million times? From coaches, bosses, parents, teachers.
Growth, advancement, winning: they require a bit of unease, often a few scraped knees, occasionally a bruised ego, and some fatigue here and there. Sure, growth hurts. Effort costs. Progress demands.
But is the pain necessary?
The adage so closely associates pain with progress that it's easy to confuse wounds, suffering, and even outright abuse with the necessary “pain” for growth. “No pain, no gain” becomes “All pain is necessary and/or permissible for gain”.
“No pain, no gain” . . . I’m not buying it outright.
How about “Any blame, no gain!”? So long as we’re looking for a target on which we can pin our reasons for not starting and finishing, we avoid looking in the mirror to understand how we’re tripping ourself up.
How about “No claim, no gain!”? We must see and name and articulate the goals toward which we strive.
Or, how about “All the same, no gain!”? Until we take a different angle, consider innovative alternatives, or chart a novel path forward, we’ll continue to end up on the same over-trodden paths from the past.
The point is that all pain is not created equal. Yes, it’s often a measurement of the necessary discomfort of progress. No, it’s not all permissible, especially when used as an instrument of subordination or abuse.
Know the difference.
Don’t allow someone else to tell you if the pain is intrinsic to the process of starting and finishing your thing. Often times it is. Dig down. Listen to yourself. Only you can know.
Smelling the Future
[Starting & Finishing - IV]
I gave a talk once about intersection between religion and our senses—sight, smell, touch, etc. The part of the talk that received the most engagement went something like this: “Aren’t you curious about the smell of the fresh-baked bread at the Last Supper? I mean, how can we dream of being apart of a thing in which we don’t dare imagine the smells in the room?”
Turns out smell and emotions are stored as a single memory. I was on to something in that talk, and the feedback confirmed it.
It’s early 2021, and we’re all hoping tomorrow (this year and beyond) will be different than yesterday (2020).
Here are a few serious question:
What will tomorrow—the improved, reimagined, healthier part—smell like?
What will you do differently and what are the scents associated with it?
What will you make/build/construct/create and what odor will it give off?
To get started on a different future, perhaps it needs to smell different in our imagination first.
Resolving the Logjam
[Starting & Finishing - III]
I’m working on a manuscript for a new book. I have legal pads full of notes. I’ve detailed an outline. But I haven’t written a word in the body of the first chapter. The book is about to burst out of me, but it seems there is something locking it in. I literally cannot do any more researching, planning, or prep work.
And it’s been like this for three months.
Until two days ago.
I had a small project to do on the house. I see it every time I’m in the living room. Months and months have passed, and I haven’t lifted a finger to check the job off my to-do list.
Until two days ago.
I went to Home Depot, bought the material, immediately came home, and knocked out the job. The following morning, the words started to flow. The writing of the current manuscript was underway.
Sometimes to start something we must finish something else. They don’t appear connected. They are.
What's your unfinished “business" that needs to be addressed? It could be the logjam holding up the current thing you want to start.
Picture-ists
[Starting & Finishing - II]
I’ve met a lot of visionaries. They can “see" the future. Having vision is important, but seeing a general, wide angle picture of where this is all going doesn’t necessarily help us get there.
We need specificity.
We need detail.
We need, at the very least, a picture.
That’s why we need more picture-ists, not visionaries.
To get started in the right direction, toward the future we desire to build, we don’t need a general sense of the landscape . . . we need individuals that can picture what their end-point is, what their unique dream will consist of.
Forget how to get started (for now). Draw me a detailed picture of your thing.
Pause.
Before telling me in big, sweeping terms how you’re going to be a part of this or that culture-shifting endeavor, tell me about the texture on the wall in the office, the start-up tune of the gadget in the corner, the color of the screen-printed t-shirts, or the font of the newsletter. Details!
Visions are easy to come by. Think big. Exceed expectations. A picture, however, puts us in the vision, and moves the vision from a distant dream to an immersive experience in the future.
Anyone can cast a vision from a couch, but until we begin to picture it with detail, we won’t even stand up from the one we're sitting on.
Adding Parentheses
[Starting & Finishing - I]
You’ve seen the meme, I’m sure of it. It’s usually two images. The first says START and FINISH and between them is a straight line. It might include a caption, “What I thought life/success/work/goals/projects looked like". The second image says START and FINISH and between them is a squiggly line, and it includes a caption, “What life/success/work/goals/projects actually looks like”.
It’s never a straight path.
Success is full of surprises and failures.
It always looks more like a knotted ball of yarn.
I’d like to add one thing to the second image, since the point of the meme is to correct a common misunderstanding about the path of real life. I’d like to put FINISH in parentheses (FINISH).
Starting is hard. Finishing is 10X harder. It’s so much harder that is rarely happens. It seems optional. Unexpected. Even theoretical.
It seems everyone has started a company, launched a new thing, made a new goal or New Year’s resolution, or started a grand project. Kuddos to them. Starting is hard. It really is. But how many people have finished, shipped, sent, and delivered on that thing? Finishing is at least 10X harder.
I’ve been working on my current book for three years! My chest is touching the finish tape, but I haven’t broken through. At this point I could trip and finish, but even ten yards back, it wasn’t guaranteed. Finishing is NEVER guaranteed!
There’s so much we get wrong about starting and finishing. And it hurts our chances of both.
The first thing is to put parentheses around the idea of (FINISH)ing. It’s not guaranteed and it’s the hardest part. Now, let’s get to work on how to increase our chances.
The next couple weeks I’ll be reflecting on Starting & Finishing.
See you tomorrow morning, friends.
Weekly Roundup: The Future is Beautiful
January 11 - January 16, 2021
Monday: Despite the naysayers, regardless of so-called popular opinion, the future will be beautiful because the friends we hold see it that way. Their perspectives inspire us, stir us, shape us.
Tuesday: Something always becomes of grief. It always takes us somewhere if we follow it. Usually that somewhere is a mysterious landscape within us that, before loss, we didn’t allow ourselves to explore. It’s paradoxical, but the future is beautiful the more we allow ourselves to grieve.
Wednesday: "The present isn’t always easy, but I am confident that our children are not only dreaming of a different future, but are making that future a reality now." - Heather Daugherty
Thursday: The beautiful future will be built through creative collaborations. Yesterday was the best day to forge new partnerships. Today is the next best day.
Friday: We no longer have a choice between building a new world or choosing to perpetuate the old. The choice has been made for us, and we must engage. Fully. Passionately.
Are you interested in the whole reflection? Click on any day, and it will take you there.
Want to help grow the community of people like us that are unwilling to continue in ways like this? Help us spread the word: share on Facebook, Twitter, or with a friend via email. Find the links below.
No Longer a Choice
[Beautiful Future - XXIII]
We no longer have a choice between building a new world or choosing to perpetuate the old. The choice has been made for us, and we must engage. Fully. Passionately.
Engagement begins with imagining something different. But the “muscles” required for truly dreaming have atrophied under the daily burden of just showing up and getting by . . . and numbing ourselves from the pain.
And in our numb, overly exhausting routines, we rely on ideology, echo-chambers, and memes as a substitute for the hard work of using our imagination.
No shame here. I do it too.
But it must stop. It has to stop.
Who are the people that can dream of economies that don’t leave people out, governing bodies that are altruistic, and judicial systems that are not inherently racist?
Where are the leaders that can dream with their hearts and not their ideological commitments, their souls and conscience and not their political affiliation, their deepest longings and not their one-dimensional soundbites?
If it’s not us, friends, then who is it?
Now’s the time to imagine a beautiful future.
Creative Partnerships
[Beautiful Future - XXII]
The most beautiful farm I’ve set foot on was a 10-acre market garden managed with sweat and manual tools . . . and in partnership with subsidized, urban markets and after school programs.
The most fascinating new venture I've heard about recently is a virtual reality company . . . partnering with a gang-recovery organization, training ex-gang members in emotional awareness and empathy.
The coolest youth sports league I’ve read about was not only a soccer club . . . it was a partnership between the club and a local mentorship organization offering free transportation after dark and sliding scale enrollment costs.
The most inspiring urban development program I’ve seen was not the work of a brilliant city planner. It was a collaboration between a team of architects, city planners, and educators . . . and artists and social workers.
The most exciting new faith community being started is actually an Italian restaurant . . . and they teamed up with the bakery down the road, built a brick oven outside, bake bread, and serve it as communion on Sundays.
The beautiful future will be built through creative collaborations.
Yesterday was the best day to forge new partnerships. Today is the next best day.
Challenged by Children: Heather Daugherty
[Beautiful Future - XXI]
“Mama, what is war?”
I was not prepared for the little 4-year old voice that piped up from my backseat in response to the story airing on NPR. I answered the question the best I could and learned the lesson that little ears are always listening, especially when we least expect it.
That 4-year old is a lot older (and much taller) now, but when I think about what gives me hope for the future, my immediate thoughts turn to her and her friends.
Her life is oriented toward justice for the oppressed and marginalized.
Toward making space to hear the voices of those who are often forced to be silent.
Toward making real and tangible changes.
She started a non-profit to educate her peers about issues of racial injustice and allyship. She heads up our family recycling, composting, and environmental stewardship efforts. She made us (FINALLY) move to being pescatarians. Every day she challenges me—sometimes in a normal teenage way, but more often than not she challenges me to be a better person.
The present isn’t always easy, but I am confident that our children are not only dreaming of a different future, but are making that future a reality now.
[Heather is a university minister at Belmont University in Nashville, TN. If I could have a (pescatarian) family meal with anyone from the good state of Tennessee, it would be the Daugherty family!]
Beautiful Grief?
[Beautiful Future - XX]
Grief never goes away. It evolves, shifts, transforms . . . but it never goes away. It’s always there; it’s always becoming something unexpected.
Sometimes grief looks like silence.
Other times it looks like tears.
Occasionally, it looks like writing. A lot.
I’m still grieving the loss of my dad to ALS. And it was five years ago (almost to the day)!
What are you grieving? What have you lost?
Grief-causing loss can look like physical death. But it can also look like the death of dreams. Friendships. A job or career. It can look like the death of an idea, or the shattering of expectations. It can even look like losing loved ones . . . to ideology, aggressive behavior, or hatefulness.
Much of my time grieving the loss of my dad looked like writing.
With tears at first.
And long stretches of silence.
But it also looked like discovery.
Something always becomes of grief. It always takes us somewhere if we follow it. Usually that somewhere is a mysterious landscape within us that, before loss, we didn’t allow ourselves to explore.
It’s paradoxical, but the future is beautiful the more we allow ourselves to grieve.
I think Dad would be proud of my “grief work".