Category: Uncategorized

  • Old Routines and New Eyes

    I take a walk almost every day, usually taking the same route. This is intentional. I set my inner GPS, and, free from thinking about where I’m going, my mind is allowed to wander in whatever direction it chooses. 

    The other day, I tried an experiment. I decided to walk the same path, but in the opposite direction.

    I couldn’t believe what I experienced.

    Despite the familiar surroundings, I saw a ton of things I’d never seen before:

    I saw new signs, strange knots in trees, and unique vistas that were there all along, just not in my field of vision. 

    Then there was the strangely-shaped house I only noticed because I was approaching it from a different angle.

    My biggest shock was discovering an impressive landscaping arrangement spelling out the name of the cemetery I like passing through. Even though I walked through it hundreds of times, I didn’t know that word was there because my back was always to it on my usual route.

    The experiment reminded me how our lives have a way of becoming familiar, too, making us blind.

    We form routines that help maintain discipline and automate decisions so our brain has the bandwidth for other, more important tasks. But these routines can also crowd out serendipity and novelty, which makes us feel older. Researchers tell us that one reason time seems to fly so much faster than when we were kids is that we have fewer novel experiences. 

    The “same old, same old” steals our years away, one moment at a time.

    This is why travel is so beneficial. It lifts us out of our ordinary and drops us into something new. We can gain valuable perspective (and slow time down a bit!) by shaking ourselves out of our sleepwalking state from time to time.

    And you don’t even need a plane ticket or a passport.

    You could literally take an alternate route to work. (Or a different mode of transportation: Ride your bike if you normally drive, or take the bus if you typically walk.)

    Go to a different church service than usual, even if it’s just a different time.

    Eliminate tools of speed and convenience and try doing a job or household task the long-hand, old-fashioned way.

    Swap chores or responsibilities with a spouse or employee for a day.

    Listen to a radio station you never listen to. 

    You can also gain a fresh perspective by hopping into a time machine and revisiting something from your past.

    Explore a place you haven’t been in years, like an old neighborhood where you used to live, your elementary school, or the place where you had your first date with your spouse.

    Watch a movie or episode of a television show you haven’t seen in decades. 

    Read a book you read when you were a teenager or young adult.

    You might be surprised by what memories come back, or how different it seems, now that you’re different, too.

    By the way, it’s not just our environment that becomes familiar. Our perceptions of people can become just as entrenched. 

    It’s not unusual for relationships to be relegated to routine. If the interactions we have with our co-worker, our spouse, our children become rote, we miss things. We might make incorrect assumptions about them. 

    This is where doing something together that’s outside your routine can be revelatory. Take a pasta-making class with your partner. Go camping with just one of your kids. Attend a ballgame or organize a charitable event with your co-workers. 

    These opportunities allow us to see one another in a new light, to encounter new facets of the other person that were there the whole time, but we simply didn’t have an occasion to witness.

    It can even change the perceptions of self-perceived “enemies.” Sometimes, the opportunity to engage with someone we dislike or disagree with under entirely new circumstances can transform the relationship. There have been people in my life that I didn’t particularly like at first who became dear friends after encountering them in a different light.

    Here’s the point.

    Routines are great, until they become ruts.

    When we make even the smallest effort to shake things up and force ourselves to experience a new perspective, we can slow down our lives, transform our relationships, and maybe even uncover solutions to our most stubborn problems.

    When we see with new eyes, we encounter blessings hiding in plain sight.


    ☕ What is one routine you can shake up this week, or a new adventure you could have with someone in your life?

  • My Subpar Imagination

    I pride myself on my imagination.

    I’ve always been a daydreamer. I can get so immersed in my imagination that I’ve missed exits on the interstate more than a few times. (Just ask my wife.)

    Plus, I’m an artist. My paintings feature macarons as spaceships, elk wearing bathrobes, and war planes dropping gummy bears from the sky.

    My imagination is on point.

    Or so I thought.

    Consider how convicted I felt when I recently read something I wrote in an old Kim & Jason Annual:

    I just want to  see Kim & Jason touch the lives of millions of people, even if in some small way. I cannot imagine doing anything else with my life.

    I cannot imagine doing anything else with my life.

    If you’re new here, you might not know that I haven’t been doing Kim & Jason for a long time. I retired the comic strip in 2007. And in a plot twist that would have come as quite a shock to 2007 Jason, not only am I not doing Kim & Jason, but my career unfolded in a way I could have never imagined, and I am totally ok with it. It’s even better than what I was doing then.

    When I wrote those words in 2001, I couldn’t foresee the speaking career that would take me to 48 of the 50 United States (I’m coming for you, Delaware and Mississippi!). I couldn’t envision how much I’d love making the art that I now make, let alone what it might look like.

    And therein lies the problem.

    There was something even better out there, and not only didn’t I see it, but I couldn’t even imagine it.

    Frankly, I should have been well acquainted with this limit to my imagination. It wasn’t new. Less than a decade earlier, when I was a teenager, I was despondent over my struggle to win over a girl I was pursuing. I sat at the dining room table to confide in my father, laying out the case for us being a perfect match, as if logic alone would resolve the deteriorating situation. I was looking for some wisdom to unlock her heart and our happily ever after.

    Instead, he said this: “Jason, have you ever considered there might be a girl X out there who’s even better for you?”

    My heart sank. Either my plea wasn’t convincing enough, or my father wasn’t as perceptive as I’d given him credit for. 

    Girl X?!

    It was the single stupidest thing I’d ever heard in my life.

    Because my imagination was terrible. 

    And apparently very short-sighted. Literally just a few months later, I met so-called “Girl X,” whose real name is Kim, and now happens to be my wife.

    Frankly, I’m not alone. It’s a problem for all of us, this pandemic of subpar imaginations.

    Oh, they are professional grade when it comes to imagining worst-case scenarios, able to summon tragic plot twists too far-fetched even for Hollywood. We see them plain as day, a smorgasbord of unhappy endings in living technicolor. But when it comes to imagining something better than our present circumstances, our imagination stalls like a cart with no horse.

    Life has always looked this way for me, and it always will.

    No one could ever be as good a match for me as he was.

    I should be content with where I am now; this is as good as I can expect.

    It’s been so long; I can’t imagine how our situation could ever improve.

    How can anything good possibly come from this disaster?

    These are undeniably true statements…

    If your imagination stinks.

    Just because you don’t know how something is going to turn out doesn’t mean it has to be scary.

    Fortunately, we don’t have to figure out how to level up our imaginations. We just have to trust in someone more creative than we’ll ever be.

    I never could have imagined inventing snow.

    I never could have imagined the smell after it rains.

    I never could have imagined the taste of a strawberry plucked fresh from the garden.

    I never could have imagined adding those adorable dimples on the knuckles of a baby’s hand.

    If I could have imagined such a thing as a fish, I probably would have stopped with one. I never could have imagined the seemingly limitless variety of them that swim in the sea.

    I never could have imagined a seahorse, a sea urchin, or the staggering variety of seashells that wash up on beaches.

    Are you like me, too busy holding tightly to what I have, fearful of losing it, because I can’t imagine something better coming along? When life throws you a curveball you didn’t expect, is your imagination exposed as an imposter?

    My imagination is pretty good. But it’s far from great, especially when life goes sideways. When it does, I take great solace in this reminder from St Paul:

    “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him.” (1 Corinthians 2:9)

    Just because you can’t imagine a happy ending doesn’t mean there isn’t one.

    ☕ Where in your life could your imagination benefit from an upgrade these days? You probably have the worst-case scenarios down; what are some best-case scenarios that could happen?

  • Can I Tell You a Secret?

    If a secret isn’t secret, can it still be called a secret?

    Over twenty years ago, I wrote my first book, titled “Escape Adulthood: 8 Secrets of Childhood for the Stressed-Out Grown-Up.”

    Can I tell you a secret?

    The secret to success and happiness is not a secret.

    The recipe is really just hard advice none of us want to follow, so we keep searching for some magic wand, secret potion, or easy shortcut that doesn’t exist. 

    In my half-century of life, I’ve heard lots of inspiring stories. After a while, if you’re paying attention, you realize they are all the same. In one week alone, I heard about three people who achieved great victories after overcoming great odds: An athlete on the way to the NFL who got paralyzed. A woman who had both feet amputated. A guy who got busted for drugs and was sentenced to 65 years. 

    Sure, the details — the races, genders, backgrounds, and specific circumstances — are different. But the advice is always the same. 

    Always.

    Change your attitude. Practice gratitude. Do hard things.

    Simple. Clear. Straightforward.

    But far from easy.

    We are always looking for the hack, but there isn’t one. 

    To get from where you are to where you want to be requires a change. 

    You have to change your thoughts.

    You have to change your actions.

    That’s it. 

    Deep down, we know this.

    But it’s hard.

    It’s easier to trick yourself into thinking there must be some knowledge you don’t have. Some guru you need to find. Some hidden path you haven’t uncovered yet. 

    No. The secrets aren’t secret.

    Change your thoughts.

    Change your actions.

    Easier still is to paint yourself a victim. If someone else is responsible for your suffering, it lets you off the hook. It excuses you from doing the work.

    And hey, you can go with that strategy if you want. It’s pretty prevalent these days. I’m not saying you’re wrong about the cause of your problem. It just won’t do anything to help.

    I don’t even know why we keep publishing “self-help” books. Everything that matters has been said. They have different authors, different titles, and words arranged in different combinations, but every single one of them is some version of this:

    Change your thoughts.

    Change your actions.

    My first book is out of print. I am in the process of rewriting it. The original was written when I was in my twenties and is filled with things I believed to be true. This one will be about what I know is true, because I spent the last twenty years living out those beliefs.

    And you know what? There’s a good chance I’ll include “secrets” somewhere in the subtitle. 

    Why? Because I know we can’t seem to resist them, and I really want people to read the book.

    But the truth is this:

    If you want to write a novel…

    If you want to lose fifty pounds…

    If you want to learn a language…

    If you want to find your soulmate…

    If you want to make the team…

    If you want to improve your lot in life…

    If you want to achieve that dream…

    If you want to be more successful…

    If you want to turn your life around…

    There is no hack. 

    The only secret is not a secret.

    The answer is that you have to do hard things.

    Change your thoughts.

    Change your actions.

    You don’t have to do either, of course.

    Just own the fact that even though you’d like life to be different, you’ve decided you’d rather not change your thoughts or actions.

    Do yourself a favor. Be honest. Call a spade a spade.

    But please.

    Please stop looking for secrets.

    ☕ Do you find it harder to change your thoughts or your actions?

  • Play Ball!

    For me, the start of baseball season is one of the most wonderful times of the year. It means winter is over, and hope springs eternal for each team. Even long-suffering fans know that every season brings with it favorites who falter and long shots who shock the world. 

    I saw a tweet in a newspaper years ago (when X was still Twitter) from Bryce Harper (when he was still playing for the Nationals, not the Phillies) that still resonates:

    “Play this game like the 8 year old you used to be, dreaming to play in the show! Heart, passion, and fire! Remember where you came from!”

    –Bryce Harper

    He tweeted this rallying cry after his team lost 2-0 to the Mets.

    You might not be a Major League baseball player, but you are a former eight-year-old.

    Remember when you were eight?

    Remember how amazing being a grown-up sounded?

    No one telling you to make your bed! No school bells or book reports or homework! Happy Meals every day! You’d trade in your bike for a car (hopefully the flying kind) and could go anywhere you wanted!

    When you were a kid, you spent a lot of time imagining the day when you would finally be grown up, with all the amazing powers that came with it, like independence and height and a drivers license. You had dreams and visions of great adventures, once you finally had the chance to call your own shots and live your own story. 

    If you’re reading this, and you’re an adult, how’s it going?

    I know, it’s not all it was cracked up to be. 

    But.

    Are you taking advantage of your powers and the opportunities now before you? 

    Kim and I like to joke that as adults, we have the ability to make the best living room forts because we are taller, have a better handle on physics, and have access to all the sheets and blankets in the whole house.

    And yet, when was the last time you made an epic fort and spent an entire Saturday in it?

    It appears that adulthood is wasted on adults.

    Yes, I know well the unanticipated downsides of adulthood: the bills, the filing of taxes, the thankless and exhausting task of raising children of our own.

    But can you imagine how excited your 8-year-old self would be with the power you now possess?

    You don’t have to dream about publishing a book, learning how to sail, opening a bakery, starting a community garden, putting on a concert, building a go-kart, or flying somewhere you’ve always wanted to visit. You can actually do them! You finally have the power, resources, and freedom to change the world. (At least your small part.)

    You can just do things.

    But the fact remains, most adults are still sitting around waiting for someone to give them permission, as if they were still eight years old.

    What’s worse, they’re missing that eight-year-old energy.

    Remember where you came from. Are you playing this game of life with the heart, passion, and fire of an eight-year-old?

    If not, get to it. 

    This game only has so many innings.

    ☕ What area of your life could use a little more eight-year-old energy?

  • Doubt Your Doubts

    My art studio is where the magic happens.

    Magic that has nothing to do with how the pretty pictures are made.

    My studio serves many purposes – it’s my favorite place to sketch, brainstorm, write, paint, and design cool things – but basically, it’s where I go to slow down, get silent, and listen to God. It’s my creative base of operations where I receive light that I reflect into a dark world.

    That’s why I call it Echo Base.

    (And also because I am a Star Wars nerd.)

    When I am there, in my happy place, a strange phenomenon occurs: Time simultaneously slows down and speeds up.

    It slows down in that all the distractions and frenzied noise from the outside world fade away. I am present, and everything feels calmer, slower.

    Meanwhile, time flies. I am so engrossed in the act of creation that hours pass in a way that feels like minutes.

    As wonderful as it feels to be in that zone, even that’s not the magical part.

    “Doubt your doubts and believe your beliefs.”

    I first heard that line in a Switchfoot song many years ago. I was probably barely into my twenties, but it sure resonated, and still does today.

    As we journey through life, it’s easy to get duped into doubting our beliefs. When we put too much stock in our doubts, the grip on our beliefs loosens. This leads to uncertainty and anxiety, which causes even more doubt. We are more susceptible to this cycle when we are operating at a hurried pace, inundated by noise and distractions.

    When we are in a place of peace and calm, it’s easier to feel a sense of conviction and certainty about what we know to be true.

    My studio is where I doubt my doubts and believe my beliefs. I do this by painting what I believe: That God is good, the world is beautiful, and light always defeats darkness. (If you look closely at my portfolio, that’s the theme you’ll see over and over again.)

    If you look at the world, it doesn’t take long to doubt those beliefs. It looks like darkness is winning. The world can be violently ugly. And God doesn’t always seem so good.

    When I am discouraged and filled with doubt, I retreat to my studio to create things that are good, true, and beautiful. This act of creation helps remind me of my beliefs, causing the doubts to shrivel and fade away.

    In the midst of this process is where the true magic — bordering on miraculous — occurs. As the act of painting reinforces my belief, it also transforms it into a physical embodiment of that belief. This arrangement of paint on canvas turns it into a totem, something tangible that can be passed along, in the form of a social media post, a greeting card, or a framed print that can be shared with someone else. At that point, it becomes more than just a painting. It becomes a gift that reinforces the belief within them, perhaps in a desperately-needed moment, when doubts were starting to pile up in their own life.

    It’s like a message in a bottle that can float on through the years, impacting people far away and even after I’m gone.

    If that’s not magic, I don’t know what is.

    In these days when darkness seems to have the upper hand and anxiety is at an all-time high, retreat to your secret hideout. You might not have an art studio, but I bet you do have a place where time simultaneously stands still and speeds up. A place where that little flame inside you gets reignited.

    Turns out that any time you light a candle, even if just for yourself, it can illuminate the path for someone else, too.

    Doubt your doubts and believe your beliefs.
  • The Boring Road to a Magical Life

    I am not a natural-born rule breaker. This may come as a surprise, coming from someone who wrote a book about breaking rules. 

    The obvious question for anyone who knew me as a child is, “How did you go from being a shy boy who was afraid of new situations and spent an eternity in swimming lessons to a guy who makes a living speaking in public about breaking rules?”

    For years, I’ve tried to come up with a compelling answer. After all, it seems like some sort of magic was involved.

    I’d often point to a moment, sometime around college, when I imagined myself as an 80-year-old guy looking back on my life and wondering, “What if?” And yes, that was when I started to experience the fear of regret as more powerful than the fear of trying something new. 

    Other times, I’d give credit to a retreat I attended after high school that had a profound impact on me and changed the course of my life. But as monumental as that experience was, it doesn’t fully explain the shy-kid-to-speaker transformation. 

    The truth is, there wasn’t one magic moment that instantly turned me from a timid rule follower into an artist who speaks to strangers for a living and wrote a book about breaking rules. 

    Earlier in my career, I was always frustrated that I didn’t have a better, flashier story to tell than the boring one that included hard work, persistence, and a lot of help from others.

    But then one day, my friend Kelly reminded me that Damascus moments are rare. The Biblical story of Saul experiencing a divine intervention on his road trip to Damascus that included being blinded, getting knocked off his horse, hearing the voice of Jesus, and having scales fall from his eyes before totally turning his life and changing his name to Paul around sure is dramatic. 

    Stories like that make great theater, but aren’t very common. 

    Most of the time, change happens one small choice at a time.

    Yes, critical “aha!” moments can alter our course (like the retreat did for me), but most of the transformation from who we are to who we want to be can be accomplished through tinkering: little experiments where we try new things, push our limits, and spend time breathing the air just outside our comfort zone.

    Looking back, I can see that every time I took a tiny step beyond my comfort zone, it grew. And I noticed that it would stay that new size, forever, or until I nudged it slightly larger again.

    Little steps — even the seemingly backwards and sideways ones — add up to make a difference. 

    Where do you want to go? Who do you want to become? What do you want your life to look like five years from now? 

    Stop looking for a magic wand. Take a little step, and then another little step, and another. 

    You may not get knocked off your horse by a blinding light and hear the voice of God. But trust me. After enough little steps in the right direction, the difference between who you’ve become compared to who you used to be will seem a lot like magic.

    Even if the story about how you got there is downright boring.

    ☕ What’s a boring thing you could do today that might make your life better a year from now?

  • Fixing the Olympics

    The Winter Olympics are broken.

    My family has been looking forward to them. We love the pageantry, the drama, and the vignettes about the athletes’ backgrounds. I just wish they’d implement one idea I believe would enhance the experience for everyone.

    Before each event, they should hold an exhibition match or heat with regular people demonstrating the sport we’re about to see. And when I say “regular people,” I don’t mean an amateur who missed the cut, or even a teenager familiar with the sport who can hold their own. 

    I mean a regular Joe who has literally never done the thing before. Ever.

    Look, we all think a Triple sow cow Salchow (Really? It’s not “sow cow?”) is impressive, but it would take on a whole new level of wow when compared to a guy attempting it who can barely stay upright in skates for three seconds.

    Be honest: How many of us have sat smugly on our sofa with our half-empty bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, scoffing at the bobsledders who don’t appear to be doing anything other than going for a ride?

    It’s a fast ride, but still.

    Something tells me we’d all be singing a different tune if we swapped the four athletes out with four random dudes from the neighborhood bar.

    Am I the only one who’d like to see how a career politician fares on her first-ever ski jump?

    And I have a whole list of people I’d love to volunteer for a luge run.

    All I’m saying is that these athletes who are competing in sports most of us only encounter once every four years have put in incredible levels of work and sacrifice. This little addition to the programming would help us appreciate it all the more.

    But there’s another fringe benefit, too.

    These world-class athletes are so good, they make what they do look easy. Seeing the schlubs struggle would remind us that it’s actually not. And then, perhaps it would dawn on us that when they were just starting, those world-class athletes probably looked more like the schlubs than Olympians.

    And then maybe, just maybe, we’d let go of the foolishness we carry around and give ourselves some grace. Maybe we’d finally let go of the pressure of scoring a perfect 10 the first time we try something new. Maybe we’d finally realize that when we feel like the schlub slipping around, making a fool of himself that first time, it’s…normal.

    Don’t let the fear of failure or looking foolish keep you from starting. 

    It takes a long time and lots of practice to make something look easy.

    Until then, embrace your inner schlub and start putting in reps.

    ☕ What is something you’ve been putting off because of a fear of looking foolish or not feeling ready? What would a first step look like?

  • Serving Up Signed Copies of Humble Pie

    Every book has a typo.

    I don’t care how prestigious the publisher, how persnickety the author, or how many editors looked it over; there will always be at least one typo. 

    It’s a law of nature, like gravity, and how whatever line you choose to stand in always becomes the slowest.

    Ok, maybe it’s not that ironclad. But it does happen more than you might expect. I even noticed one in my Bible the other day (although it wasn’t the Author’s fault).

    Obviously, a professional works to minimize typos as much as possible. A book riddled with errors is the mark of an amateur. It looks careless and detracts from the message or story the author is trying to convey.

    I’ve talked about this law with my friend Scott, who writes books like most people change socks. Since then, I’ve seen typos pop up again and again. Instead of raining down condescension upon the world-renowned author and their fancy New York publisher, I just nod and think, “And there it is.”

    It happens to the best of us.

    But not me.

    No, I’ve written seven books (plus all the Kim & Jason comic strips), and have thus far been able to avoid this fate.

    Ahem.

    Well, I spotted one recently, during a public reading of my new children’s book. It tripped a wire in my mind. Something felt wrong, but I kept going. Afterwards, I looked back at the text, trying to find the problem. I couldn’t, so I figured my brain must have misfired while my mouth was busy saying the words out loud.

    Except then it happened again. During another public reading.

    Yep. 

    There is a typo in The Penguin Who Flew, a picture book for children that only has 32 pages and just 527 words.

    This article is longer than that.

    I published a book with 527 words, but only 526 of them are typed correctly. 

    (As far as I know.)

    I can confirm that the professional editor I hired isn’t to blame, as the final manuscript does not have the error. It must have happened as I typed the copy into the final layout (why didn’t I just copy and paste?!), so the blame falls squarely on my shoulders.

    To be fair, 99.8% of the words in the book are totally fine.

    Somehow, that doesn’t make the 0.2% burn any less.

    And let me tell you, it really bummed me out. 

    Still does.

    But as the person who has stood on stage after stage, declaring into darn near every microphone I’ve been given that every storm cloud contains a silver lining, I had to ask the question:

    Now that this has happened, what does this make possible?

    Let’s see…

    It unleashed an avalanche of embarrassment upon me, that’s for sure. It provided an opportunity to lose face in the eyes of readers, who will conclude that I am a hack who clearly didn’t care enough to proofread his own book. It will confirm to the world once and for all that I am a fraud…

    (Wait, this is not helping…)

    Then I had this thought: It’s an opportunity to grow in humility. Which, believe it or not, is something I’ve been praying for. In an attempt to become more like some of my spiritual heroes, and more specifically, Jesus, I realized that I have a long way to go in this department. 

    (If you don’t think God answers prayers…)

    So yes, this disaster did make it possible to grow in humility. Strangely, that actually made me feel better about the whole thing. 

    Then I realized I could grow even more if I told everyone about the typo, publicly, like I’m doing right NOW. I assume most people will have missed it, as I did, the hundred times I read it BEFORE signing off on thousands of dollars of printing to commence. 

    But now everyone will be alerted. It’s no longer just my little secret.

    (Yes, this sounds like a really smart move…)

    That said, I have decided not to share where the typo is. Perhaps you can make it a game, or a fun scavenger hunt for your kids that you can use to teach them at least seven valuable lessons. 

    (See? Another good thing made possible by my blunder!)

    When we do the next printing, I will correct it, which will give those who ordered early a collector’s item. It might even be worth more if it’s anything like the “error cards” from the baseball card-collecting days of my youth. 

    (That’s me doing you a solid, giving you an investment tip, and rewarding my early investors. Order now, while supplies last!)

    But please, just do me one favor. When you do find it, don’t email me to tell me. I already know where it is, and I have no gold stars for you. It might seem like it’s helpful to let an author know you found a mistake in their book, but there’s usually not much they can do about it. Plus, no author I’ve ever met is under the illusion that they’ve written the perfect book. Let them reside in the bubble that maybe, just this once, the stars aligned, and they did.

    On the other hand, after sharing my embarrassing debacle opportunity to grow in virtue with Scott, he reminded me that when people point out a typo, it means they actually read your book. Which, in today’s attention-deprived world, is just about the best compliment an author can receive. 

    So, to all the many folks who have sent me anecdotes and pictures of kids (and former kids) who have read and LOVED it and, in a few cases, declared it their new favorite book(!), thank you. It’s gratifying to know that this story about a persistent penguin with an impossible dream has landed the way I’d hoped.

    And you know what? Feel free to spread the word about the typo.

    Especially to the kids. 

    Maybe the fact that even the big-shot professional author of their new favorite book makes mistakes will remind them that he is human, just like them. And then maybe it’ll dawn on them that they don’t have to be perfect to achieve their dream, either. 

    Like Marty the penguin, they only have to give it everything they’ve got.

    So remember, friend: every book has a typo.

    Every life has them, too.

    Just don’t let them stop you from making something great.

    Hurry! Only a limited number of typo-enhanced copies are still available!


    🤔 Anybody else want to grow in humility by sharing one of their colossal screw ups?

  • 15 Frozen Hearts

    Photo by Kim Kotecki.

    Kim and I spent the first few days of this new year together, alone. The kids were with grandparents while we enjoyed our annual respite to reflect on the year that was and dream about what might be next. 

    After breakfast one day, we strolled along a pier that juts into Lake Michigan. The air was cold but invigorating because the wind was elsewhere, as were most people. We had the pier to ourselves. Upon reaching the end, we paused in silence, surrounded by thin, cracked sheets of ice. It was quiet, except for the crackling and crunching of the stiff blanket covering the surface of the water.

    Peace.

    We lingered for a bit, then walked back toward land, resuming our conversation. As our stroll concluded, Kim declared her desire to return for a Wonderhunt, casually mentioning that she’d seen fifteen hearts in the snow and ice over the course of our short walk.

    How many had I seen?

    Exactly none.

    What a talent! I marveled to myself.

    But is there such a thing as talent for something like this? For seeing hearts in nature? I’m not so sure. It’s not the same as having been blessed with a beautiful singing voice, exceptional sprinting speeds, or a penchant for math.

    I do know this: The biggest reason Kim has a knack for spotting hearts seemingly at will is that she spends a lot of time looking for them. 

    What looks like magic to someone else is often the result of lots and lots of practice.

    I once wrote a book about seeing. In it, I talked about storms, the metaphorical kind that blow through our lives. I also wrote about one of our most underrated superpowers: the ability to choose what we look for in the midst of those storms. 

    Yes, the storms will come. Scary, devastating, faith-shaking storms. They are a given, right up there with death and taxes.

    But the people who see the silver linings are usually the ones looking for them.

    It’s not a talent. It’s a practice.

    And the more you practice, the better you get.

    This, my friend, is as true with finding hearts in nature as it is with anything.

    So…will this year be even worse than last year? Or could it be that this will be your best year ever? 

    Want to know a secret? You don’t have to wait to find out.

    The trap that’s so easy to fall into is letting external circumstances dictate our answers: The news headlines, the outrage du jour on social media, the ups and downs of our personal lives. 

    It’s hard to see a year in which you hit rock bottom as anything other than bad. But a decade later might bring a new perspective that recasts it as a gift of great value.    

    Please know I’m not suggesting you pretend that the tough or terrible moments don’t suck. I know I had plenty of those last year. Being sad, mad, or angry is part of the human experience. We don’t have to bury those emotions under some false blanket of positivity. 

    Just remember that the best year ever is not one devoid of failure, conflict, tragedy, or loss. The storms are part of life.

    But. 

    If you spend a lot of time looking for miracles, you’ll start finding them everywhere.

    No talent is required.

    You just need to practice.


    ☕ How would you assess your ability to spot the “hearts” in your life? What’s one way you could practice getting better?

  • The Best Investment Advice

    Many Januarys ago, as the ho ho hos of the holiday season abruptly transitioned to the ho ho hums of winter, I came across this abandoned television on a walk around the neighborhood. (Sad face added by me.) I’m sure this one-time technological marvel was the highlight of some Christmas past, but there it sat on the side of the road, abandoned, amidst dirty piles of old snow, valueless. I had no doubt a new TV was in its place; better, flatter, higher def…and also destined to be discarded in a few years.

    It was an oversized reminder of our obsession with stuff and our never-ending chase of the latest and greatest. We so easily forget that while we prioritize the tangible — physical things we can see, touch, and that take up space — their most consistent attribute is how they distract us from the things that matter. 

    Indeed, it’s our experiences — the intangible, fleeting moments of our lives — and the memories they leave behind, that become our most highly valued treasures.

    It’s the beauty of the light from a hundred candles in a darkened church on Christmas Eve, the afternoon spent together covered in flour while baking snicker doodles, tucking some deliriously excited but exhausted kids into bed after a late night at Grandma’s; these are the moments that rush by too fast (rudely neglecting to warn us of their importance as they go), and are more valuable than a million big screen TVs.

    When we spend money on stuff, it usually depreciates in value over time. This year’s must-have Christmas gift is next year’s Goodwill contribution.

    However, the money we invest in experiences is different. The memories we make appreciate in value as we get older and loved ones move on. The money we spend on experiences is always a bargain and leaves us with longer-lasting feelings of happiness. We usually wish we had savored them more when we had the chance. 

    Instead of buying a “thing” for someone you care about, you might consider gifting them an experience of some kind. It could be a simple weekend trip, concert tickets, a nice dinner out, an offer to babysit for a whole day, a scholarship for an art class, an evening of bowling, or a visit to a spa for a massage. The possibilities are endless.

    Now, I seem to be always adding to my Funko Pop collection, and I’d like to upgrade my grill, but just as no one on their deathbed ever said they wished they spent more time at the office, no one ever said, “I wish I had accumulated more stuff!”

    But certainly more than a few people have wished they’d taken more family vacations, thrown more parties, undertaken more adventures, or created more memories with the people they loved.

    This is not as much a rant against stuff as it is a rally for mindfulness. 

    In many ways, this year will be the same as the last: filled with temptations to chase the tangible, as well as thousands of opportunities to seek out, embrace, and savor that which is not.

    May our goal be to look for ways to invest in memories that get more valuable each passing year.

    It sure beats accumulating a future ornament for the end of our driveway.