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    • The 75% Lifestyle Choice

      “Scientific studies suggest that only about 25 percent of how long we live is dictated by genes, according to famous studies of Danish twins. The other 75 percent is determined by our lifestyles and the everyday choices we make. It follows that if we optimize our lifestyles, we can maximize our life expectancies within our biological limits.” ― Dan Buettner, The Blue Zones: 9 Lessons for Living Longer From the People Who’ve Lived the Longest

      When you think about it, most of us have far more agency over the quality and length of our lives than we believe we have. Accidents will happen, genetics are what they are, but on the whole we have a say in how healthy and resilient we are. So it follows that we ought to make better choices in our day-to-day routines. Eat better, move more, find time to decompress and place ourselves in a supportive environment with people more like the person we want to become. Simple, right?

      January has come to be known as “damp January” or “dry January” as people cut out alcohol from their daily lives. If we moderate our consumption more in November and December, perhaps we all wouldn’t collectively feel the need to quit cold turkey. But Americans in particular love the pendulum swing. One extreme to the other is our game, but is it a long-term formula for winning the game of life? Probably not.

      My meal choices the last two days reflect that of a business traveler. Too many carbs and fat and sodium, too few fruits and vegetables. The only bright spot in my diet is that I haven’t consumed alcohol on this trip. But deep down I know I ought to be exercising more and eating less junk. We usually know what we should be doing, we just don’t always do it. The more we systematize our choices, the easier it is to stick with what we should do.

      We’re all works in progress, but we should remember that every choice is a step in one direction or the other. We either move towards healthier or move away from it. A good routine makes that direction easier to follow.

    • On Action

      “Action may not always bring happiness, but there is no happiness without action. ”
      ― William James

      There’s nothing more essential to getting to where we’d like to be than a bias towards action. Want to have a better relationship? Earn it with attention. Want to be a better writer? Read, experience the world more and write about it often. Want to be fit? Stop wishing for it and get moving already. We know deep down that the answer is action.

      We can’t close a gap without effort. We can’t climb a corporate ladder or a mountain peak without moving one step at a time higher than we currently are. To open a door previously closed to us, we must first reach the door before we can open it and step through. Take the steps necessary to get there.

      Personally, I have a five year plan for where and who I want to be. To reach that person in that place, there are some clear steps necessary to bring me there. Most essential is taking care of the mind and body that will carry me there. We can work all our days for a goal, but we won’t reach it if we physically slide sideways off the cliff. The rest is identifying the systems, routines and habits essential to getting us to our goals, scheduling and tracking them from now until the end. We’re building a lifestyle of active participation, not just reaching some summit.

      How we want to live is as essential to ask ourselves as who we want to be. We may never close the gap fully, but a lifestyle built making ourselves better than we were yesterday is inherently optimistic and happier than one built trying to hold on to the pieces of who we once were. Be a builder instead. What is the gap and what are the steps necessary to close it? Once it’s all laid out for us, the rest is taking that first step and following with the next.

    • First Snow

      I’ve had many snowstorms in my lifetime. Blizzards and lake effect dumpings, heavy wet snows and light and fluffy snow globe snows, white-outs that scare the heck out of you and ever-lasting slow drifts that barely seem to pile up. You tend to grow used to it after awhile, but that first snow of the year is always magical. Having a few mild winters in a row, and snow this year taking forever to reach the part of New Hampshire I reside in, it just began to feel like we’d never get another good storm. So there’s delight when if finally arrives, tinged with calculations about cleanup, road conditions, viability of the power lines and how much bread and milk one might consume before it all spoils.

      This first snow brings with it the perspective of a puppy, just nine months old, experiencing a heavy accumulation for the very first time. Now this in itself is appointment watching, as she steps timidly outside at this new world awaiting her, sniffs and licks at the white blanket and slowly steps ever deeper. My own obligations took a back seat as I watch her figure it all out. Eventually she grew bolder and began walking more quickly, and then in a spark of instinct or insight, began to prance like a deer through the drifts, ever faster. Soon she was running about the yard like it was her best day ever, and who was I to argue?

      The thing about heavy snow days is you learn to time the cleanup, that you aren’t out in it all day long, but you aren’t letting it accumulate so much that it’s difficult to work with. There’s an efficiency to snow cleanup that is learned through experience. Whatever the perfect moment is, it feels like the entire neighborhood decides to go out at the same time. The nods and waves and getting back to the business at hand inevitably follow, like some scripted scene from a pharmaceutical company’s drug du jour commercial. We’re all keeping an eye on each other in a way, even as we mind our own business.

      With all the responsibility of adulthood, sometimes we get caught up in the cleanup and calculations, and forget to just play in the snow. A new puppy, like children, teach us to delight in the wonder of a fresh snowfall. To roll about in it and clop through it and fly across it laughing at the sheer magic of the changed landscape. The cleanup is never the fun part, but we ought to remember the do fun part in our rush to clean up. Life deserves more magic and delight, don’t you think?

    • Revisiting the 20/10 “Stop Doing” Exercise

      “Suppose you woke up tomorrow and received two phone calls. The first phone call tells you that you have inherited $20 million, no strings attached. The second tells you that you have an incurable and terminal disease, and you have no more than 10 years to live. What would you do differently, and, in particular, what would you stop doing?” — Jim Collins

      “If it’s not a hell yes, then it’s a no!” — Derek Sivers

      This idea of contemplating our expiration date (memento mori) combined with the possibility of having the financial freedom to do whatever we want with the time is an essential filtering mechanism for designing our future. It’s almost never about the big ticket money activities, it’s about carving out time for the simple things in life, like being there for the kids or having the lifestyle commitment and personal responsibility to get a puppy. Sure, money helps, but it’s freedom people seek in their lives. The fastest way to freedom is saying no to more things.

      We ought to remember we all have a terminal disease, whatever our timeline, and get busy prioritizing the essential over all the rest. Life is a short game, best fully-optimized. We’ll never fully reach that level of excellence, but we can aspire to close the gap. Instead of resolutions, we may choose instead to define what our “no’s” will be, that we may have the space for those “hell yes’s”

    • Unfailing and Habitual Consistency

      “Remember we wrote in Good to Great that big things happen by pushing on a giant, heavy flywheel. You start pushing in an intelligent and consistent direction, and after a lot of work you get one giant, slow, creaky turn, but you don’t stop. You keep pushing and you eventually get two turns and four and sixteen and thirty-two and sixty-four and one hundred and one thousand; pushing; cumulative, consistent momentum; and at one point it’s one hundred thousand and then a million turns in that flywheel. Big things happen because you do a bunch of little things supremely well that compound over time. This is what we learned. We see tremendous consistency in any truly great enterprise. The signature of mediocrity is not an unwillingness to change—although, and we’ll get to this, if you don’t change, you become irrelevant—but the true signature of mediocrity is chronic inconsistency.” — Jim Collins

      If the signature of mediocrity is chronic inconsistency, then the signature of personal excellence (Areté) is unfailing and habitual consistency. It’s staying to task, every day until something more essential to our being becomes our task. Blogging every day is pushing the flywheel. So is exercise and changing the engine oil and washing the dishes and doing the most tedious-but-essential things in our chosen path. We do these things not because they’re always joyful, but because they are part of our identity today and ensure that we continue from here to our future identity. The opposite of order is chaos.

      There were several times writing this blog that I thought it would be my last post. There’s so many things to do, and beginning each morning with writing delays some other essential habits from forming. But the writing has taken me to places I hadn’t anticipated when I began, and the path forward looks promising. That’s not a reason not to question the flywheel I happen to be pushing (who wants to run around in circles for nothing?), but to embrace the process of becoming what’s next that the writing offers. The trick is to stack other positive habits into this routine to ensure success. The writing isn’t pushing me away, it’s those other habits that need attention that are pulling.

      Systems and routines are our salvation or an albatross. We are what we do. We must therefore keep pushing.

    • The Evening Walk

      “A dog can never tell you what she knows from the
      smells of the world, but you know, watching her,
      that you know
      almost nothing.”
      — Mary Oliver, Her Grave

      Walking the pup the last few nights, I’m reminded of what hides in plain sight from us. Rabbits standing still, waiting out the passersby. Other dog walkers, faces glowing in rapt attention to the phone while their dog cries for attention, if not from her leash mate, then perhaps from us. A phone ruins night vision immediately, but that’s not the only sense ruined. Awareness is a fragile thing, stolen away in an instant.

      Some things still scare the pup, even as she approaches nine months. She’s a teenager now, as dog years go, and most things don’t scare her on the surface. When she grows timid I pay extra attention, wondering what in the night draws her in so. A good flashlight usually reveals nothing but shadows. The pup knows better.

      The walks were what I missed most about having a dog. Dogs force a break from the comfort of the home, and pull us outside to engage with the world. Where we learn to be more aware. To confront our own senses and what we miss when we’re not fully present. Like poetry, sometimes the smallest thing means everything in this lifetime.

    • The Quest for Better

      “Let me start with issuing you a challenge: Be better than you are. Set a goal that seems unattainable, and when you reach that goal, set another one even higher.” — Herb Brooks

      Wishes are nice. When my daughter asks me what my wish is on any given occasion for such things, my answer is always “world peace” because it’s as good a wish as any, and better than most. The short answer is, I don’t wish for things, I plan (too often over-plan) and I take steps towards them. Planning and deliberate action are better than wishes.

      Resolutions are nice. I don’t make them, because I would always break them. Instead I see the person I want to be, identify what that person would be doing every day to reach further than that point and I start adding those routines to my own calendar. As a streak hitter, I know streaks are made to be broken eventually. I try to string together as many days as possible on any desired trait and track it in a journal. Writing has surpassed five years every day and counting. Some other habits aren’t holding up as well. Each informs and I restart every day with the best intentions fueled by a desire for better than I currently am. How about you? What gets you beyond the resolution rut?

      Experiences are the currency now. Doing things I wouldn’t have done a few years ago. Even thinking to do things is a step beyond the more insular world I once inhabited. Each stage of life brings with it a new set of priorities. Prepare better meals. Speak a second or third language better than yesterday. Experience something entirely new each week. Pretty soon that calendar is full of interesting leaps forward. Pretty soon we’ve become that person we thought unattainable. And the quest for better begins anew.

    • On Time

      “Days are expensive. When you spend a day you have one less day to spend. So make sure you spend each one wisely.” — Jim Rohn

      We have an extra day added to the calendar this year. Leap Year and all that. What will we do with one more? Each day in the books is one less, if you look at it a certain way, or one more, if you look at it another way. Do we look at the scarcity of time left or the abundance of experiences we’ve accumulated along the way?

      Perhaps the answer is to be aware of the time going by and to be deliberate in our use of it. Wasting less time by utilizing it better. That’s a good reason to make goals and focus on productivity, but the root of each ought to be a resounding answer to the question, “how do I want to use my time?”

    • Counting Wins

      “Give yourself fully to your endeavors. Decide to construct your character through excellent actions and determine to pay the price of a worthy goal. The trials you encounter will introduce you to your strengths.” — Epictetus

      And so we begin again. If a human life is marked by the sum of our days, then this day is our opportunity to launch into something greater than we were in our previous days. A new year is just the same as a new day: it’s all the same on our march forward. What counts is the march to better. What matters is following through one step at a time to the end of our days.

      The trick is to focus on the strengths we wish to develop in ourselves. The weaknesses are what we tend to resolve to change. This leads to frustration and failure. Where’s the fun in that? We all know deep down which resolutions are doomed to fail. They’re the ones without a compelling why and the simplicity of routine. What is more routine than doing the little things every day?

      Epictetus had it right. We must decide which kind of character we want to construct first. Who do we want to be? What is the price that closes the gap between that person and the person contemplating change? There will be days for leaping, but we ought to begin with what we’ll call a win when everything is upside down and failure is in the air. What counts as a win each day?

      I’m a streak hitter. I publish every day to keep this streak alive, just like every other positive habit. There are days when it’s the bare minimum, there are days when it’s a lot more, but it’s always something. That’s one example of paying the price every day, and a small win that keeps the momentum going. It’s become a strength simply in the doing.

      That gap isn’t closed with a leap. It’s closed by filling in the gap. One small win at a time.

    • Some Years

      Forever alive, forever forward,
      Stately, solemn, sad, withdrawn, baffled, mad, turbulent, feeble, dissatisfied,
      Desperate, proud, fond, sick, accepted by men, rejected by men,
      They go! they go! I know that they go, but I know not where they go,
      But I know that they go toward the best—toward something great.
      — Walt Whitman, Song of the Open Road

      Some years feel monumental for the changes that wash over us. Some years feel like nothing happened worth writing home about. For the former, lessons in living life anew. For the latter, a tap on the shoulder that maybe now is the time to shake things up a bit and step outside of the familiar. We only have so many some years to work with.

      Heading into a new year, what are we to make of it? It can’t be more of the same for us, for everything changes all the time. Even what feels familiar and constant is changing, just at a slower rate than the world around that thing. I look around at the house I’ve lived in for what feels like forever and everything but the framing and windows has changed over and over again. Change is indeed a constant, reliable dynamic that we either must surf or be swept away by. We’ve all shown ourselves to be able surfers thus far.

      What makes a life great? Isn’t it the experiences we have with the people we surround ourselves with? Everything in life is an interaction between the inner self and the universe that surrounds us. To have lived well in this shell of a body is to have engaged actively with the world and to draw something from it, that we may grow for as long as we can.

      All years come and go. We advance with the years, forever alive, forever forward. Some years stand out as more memorable than others. Like a puzzle, the full picture doesn’t emerge until we put in the time. As the picture of the year that was is completed, we realize that there’s a larger puzzle still in the works. All our days make a picture—the sum of our lives. We must keep advancing towards something great, even if we can’t quite see it in ourselves. We must decide what to be and go be it.