After not using something for a while, that thing can get rusty. The rustier it gets the less likely it gets used. Using it gets one thing clear: it’s either still functional, or it’s over. Finding out is the challenge. What if it matters? I used to be so nervous excited before getting on the Matterhorn. It seemed so huge. So fast. Pfff. It’s nothing. As an adult, what a joke. As a kid, the fear was part of the fun. Matterhorn … it matters to take on the fear. Rust notwithst

Here’s an idea I learned in software development about a feature that started as a bug, really an unfixable bug, so it got to become a feature. A good thing. That’s exactly how I retroactively experienced Dolly Parton. I would’ve thought it was a bug that my bosom was twice the size of the rest of my body, but she let it be a feature. And that’s just one of the things. I don’t know how I would possibly have been able to do that, given the ideas I inherited about women’s bodi

Project Stands started as a way of engaging people outside of Zoom, official meetings, or predictable places. I want to know what people are working on. What important work is being accomplished. What is lighting people up. Today’s Project Stand offered something different. No mere waiting for someone to want to talk to a stranger about their project. Today they had a chance to play. Too weird, maybe? Fishing for a Fortune in a crystal fishbowl … I don’t think it was too weir

The best croissant in the world was once a mess of flour and butter. Important work is like that. We admire the finished thing—the book, the company, the website, the conversation, the decision. We forget the bench covered in flour, the starts and stops, the wrong turns. The dough that looked hopeless until someone folded it one more time. Most worthwhile projects spend far longer in the bakery than they do in the display case. That's one reason why I like working beside peop

Noise has a way of masquerading as complexity. So many obligations. So many opinions. So many possibilities. So many tabs open in your head. The next step becomes obvious once the noise settles. That's what I'm listening for with people.

Harbor. I can't leave that word alone. I don't think I want to use it. Yet it keeps showing up. I looked up recognize. I looked up reconnoitre. I looked up harbor. Why am I circling this thing? I don't know yet. Harbor keeps showing up. I'll keep watching.

Seeds in the ground. Watered. Tended. Riots below sight line. Growth. Quiet. Certain.

Standing tall with my chin slightly down, shoulders dropped, neck long. My whole body feels relieved. Breathing deepens. Weight drops through my heels. My spine lengthens. My belly softens because I’m longer. I feel better.