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Category: Archives

The full collection of explorations.

Managing Unwind Time

On weekends, I like finishing my days with a TV show.

It’s a great way for my productivity focused mind to unplug and idle for a while. Maybe you can relate?

Here are three rules I’ve created for myself to keep this in check, though: 1) I will only ever finish my days with a TV show, 2) It’ll only ever be on weekends, and 3) I only allow it if I’ve finished all of my other priority tasks for the day.

There are two reasons why I’ve created these rules for myself: One, they are undeniably addicting—even for a self-discipled black belt like me. And two, if I don’t get my priority tasks done because I wasted too much time watching TV, I’ll undoubtedly feel regret.

That said, there’s still the question of how to stop once you’ve started watching—which is no easy feat.

First, I always assume the episode will end with another hair-pulling cliff hanger. Another episode will never make the “hanging” better—only equally hanging off a cliff or more so.

With that mindset established, here’s what I do when the episode is actually over: 1) Don’t stare at the “next episode?” button. Clear the button and let the credits play. 2) Turn down the volume and get your mind focused elsewhere asap. Even if that means checking a social media feed. 3) Once you move your mind away from the cliff enough, you’ll eventually reclaim footing back in reality and have a MUCH easier time turning the show off.

At least this is what works for me.


I’m curious: What works for you?

Roller Coaster Love

A relationships and dating coach posted the following question on Twitter: “Would you rather: a 220 pound woman who’s nice & sweet or a 120 pound woman with an attitude?”

To which I say this is the wrong question.

Love isn’t a number on a scale. And none of us are as simple as “nice & sweet” or “with an attitude.”

Love is an impossibly complex, messy, roller coaster of a ride shared with the person who could very well be all of those above things throughout the duration of your ride.

It’s time spent with the person who makes you feel:

…Sometimes exhilaratingly light—like you’re free falling down from the highest roller coaster peak. Like when their name comes up on caller I.D., their face comes into view after time apart, or the thought of past time together springs to mind.

…Sometimes upside down—like you’re being thrown through a loop. Like when they challenge your thoughts/beliefs, pull you down a spontaneous path you would’ve never traveled on your own, or they get you to agree to something that’s totally out of character.

…Sometimes heavy and low—like at the bottom of those highest drops. Like when they have to endure tragedy/loss/grief and illicit your support to help them, or when they hurt your feelings, or break promises—because them doing it hits harder than anyone else.

…But all with that person. Not because of the number on the scale or some one or two word description that’s supposed to represent the entire depth of who they are—but, because riding the roller coaster is better with them. And they think the same about riding the coaster with you.

When You’re A “2” Out Of “10”

A student of mine returned to martial arts class yesterday after having suffered from a rough few days of food poisoning.

Having been there, I know that coming back from this is no joke.

After the class concluded, he pulled me to the side and made a comment that I thought was worth sharing.

He said, “When I came to the school, I was at a 2 [out of 10]. I was texting my wife telling her how rough I felt and how I didn’t think I’d make it to class. After an hour or two I felt more like a 3. By the time class came around, I felt like a 4. Once I was in class I was a 5. And when it was over, I was a solid 6 or 7.”

I’ve written about this before and this is no small insight.

The byproduct of doing hard things is feeling better—a bump up on the feeling scale closer to “10.” Avoiding the hard things (or succumbing to excuses like, “I’ll do it when I’m a 10”), leaves you feeling worse or, best case, keeps you sulking at the number you started at.

Don’t get it twisted: we don’t do hard things when we’re at a 10—we do hard things to get to a 10 (or at least closer to it).

Big Plans Today

I have big plans for the future.

As do you, I’m sure.

And in the moments when I can feel myself wanting them to become a reality now—I remember that having them all come true now isn’t the point.

The point is in the figuring it out; it’s in the earning that comes from the journey; it’s in the having something big to aspire to.

Big plans are like the magnetic north of our lives.

…Arrive in a snap and we lose all sense of direction. Focus on following the pulled arrow of our compass and we get to take a series of deliberate steps forward today.

When you think about it like that—having a compass to follow or having no compass at all—suddenly, using our big plans for tomorrow as the vehicle that creates our big plans for today becomes the ideal path.

…Directionless is not a great place to be.

Onward.


P.s. My guide is all about how direction is more important than speed in life. If you need help figuring out your direction (and calibrating your life’s compass), check it out.

Becoming Interested In Nothing

It’s worse to take an interest in irrelevant things than to do nothing at all.

What might be some examples of irrelevant things?

  • Most news
  • Most social media
  • Celebrity dating life
  • Your ex’s daily life
  • Angry strangers

At least when we do nothing at all we get to sort through and settle what’s already on our mind, allow our imagination and creative sides to flex, and do some of the inner work that leads to greater feelings of contentment and fulfillment.

What I see, however, is most people living as if doing nothing is some kind of bad thing. As if it’s some sort of signal that we have nothing better to do. But, don’t get it twisted, doing things that are irrelevant to our path forward (what’s going to help us grow and improve) isn’t better—it’s the opposite.

Investing attention into irrelevant things is investing into distractions. Distractions which take our attention away from what is relevant to our path forward—ourselves. Which, surprisingly enough, is easiest to explore when we do more of the very thing we may have been subconsciously trying to avoid this whole time: nothing at all.


P.s. Does the thought of doing nothing freak you out? My guide can help with that.

Knife Paths

I decided today was the day I’d break my bike in for the summer.

I maneuvered it out from the back of my garage, dusted it off, filled the tires with air, cleaned off the ol’ helmet, packed my lock, and off I went.

…I didn’t make it but 10 houses down the street when my rear tire went flat.

Now, what this moment represents is one of those ever-so-present fork-in-the-road moments where you’re given a choice.

A) Swear, kick, fuss, scream, and temper tantrum until a dark cloud forms over your head.

B) Use it as an opportunity to finally learn how to change the inner tube on your road bike.

We’re given choices like these, dare I say, by the hundreds every week.

What many of us don’t realize is that by changing our choice to something like “B” more often, not only might we eliminate the dark cloud from forming, but we build a skill or new level of resilience that mitigates the same type of situation from happening again in the future.

I, for example, plan on keeping a back-up tube with me as I ride from now on. And the prospect of having to set aside hours of time and chunks of money to get my flat tire fixed by a professional, is a path that is quickly fading from any future forks in my road.

I’ll soon be able to do it myself.

…Which means less forks and more knife paths for me.

I like knife paths.

Normal and Nonspecific Moments

This weekend, I had the great pleasure of looking through my grandmother’s personal photo albums which included never before seen pictures of my dad, grandmother, grandfather, aunts, uncles, and various other associated parties.

In fact, it was just this weekend that I saw baby pictures of my dad—something I had never seen prior.

It struck me how grateful I was that those pictures were taken, collected, and saved.

And what I found most interesting was how much was coming back to my dad and uncle that they, just then, thought to share—things that I suspect would’ve never resurfaced otherwise. Memories that needed that trigger of a picture—taken during what would’ve been, I imagine, seemingly normal and nonspecific moments in time—to be revived in their minds.

…Moments that I, in my life, constantly question for validity and worth.

Like, why capture this moment? Why now? Why not in the next moment? Why not stay present and as aware of the moment as I can—minus the thought of how to best capture it? How to know what’ll serve the most long term value—capturing or thoroughly soaking in?

What I don’t know is how to answer those above questions.

What I do know is that, like my dad and uncle, there are countless memories laying buried in dark corners of my mind that need but a picture to be excavated and revived…

And no picture was taken.