Notes

I remember taking trips to NYC with my family as a kid. My younger brother is a tap dancer, and at a young age, danced in clubs throughout the city, so we were there regularly.

On some days more than others, Manhattan traffic was rough. My Dad used to call particularly painful intersections the "white knuckle zone," meaning your hands are gripping the steering wheel so tightly that your knuckles turn white. He also used to say, "you have to commit" before driving fearlessly into a sea of yellow cabs determined to get to their destination.

Spending a decade living in the city, I thought of these phrases often, especially while driving in Manhattan, Dana in the passenger seat, wincing at every turn.

What I've discovered, though, is that these concepts go beyond navigating Manhattan. If my Dad didn't commit; instead, stuck debating the perfect time to go, we would have never gotten anywhere.

In life, indecision is the enemy of progress. It's worthwhile to think things through, but at a certain point, you have to commit.

"When nothing seems to help, I go and look at a stonecutter hammering away at his rock, perhaps a hundred times without as much as a crack showing in it. Yet at the hundred and first blow it will split in two, and I know it was not that last blow that did it—but all that had gone before.” (Jacob A. Riis)

I'm not sure there's a better way to describe the power of perseverance. Whether it's exercising, learning an instrument, or any other endeavor, it is way too easy to give up early on. You can't see the crack forming, but every strike is a strike closer to the split. The tough part is that you never know when it's coming. Before you throw in the towel, remember that you could be giving up one or two strikes away from something big.

My approach? Find joy in the hammering, not the final crack.

You can't rewrite history, or can you? It depends on how you look at it, I guess. You can remember an event one way or another and even document it how you choose. You can try to "fix" any mistakes and remedy any mishaps. However, neither of these options change what transpired.

This thought crosses my mind, now and again, regarding my habits. For example, I try to read every day for 30 minutes. I track this habit, along with others, in a simple little app called Done.

If I miss a day of reading, can I read for an hour the next day and count it as two sessions? Well, of course, there are no rules, but there is integrity. I have a hard time feeling good pretending that I read one day when I didn't. But then again, is it about the tracking or the value of practicing healthy habits?

Taking a step back reminds me that it's the latter. Tracking is just a tool to keep going and check in on progress. That's the risk in gamifying anything. When the game becomes more important than the purpose, it may be time to re-calibrate.

"It all comes down to getting the right people in the right seats." (Gino Wickman, Traction)

Before deciding whether or not you have the right people, take a closer look at the seats.

You hired them because you saw something special. Are they able to flex their unique ability in their current position?

You were excited for them to join because you saw their potential. Are you giving them the opportunities and support needed to reach it?

The hardest part is getting started.
The hardest part is navigating curveballs.
The hardest part is pushing through plateaus.
The hardest part is knowing when you're finished.
The hardest part is acknowledging the fruits of your labor.
The hardest part is seeing the win, even when you've lost.

The hardest part only grows harder when I label it that way. In moments of defeat, I think that life would be better if I could only get through to the other side. Then, if I do, the other side has a new set of challenges.

I'm always practicing how not to get hung up on "the hardest part" because I know it will change with every step forward. In that way, the hardest part is just another part of the process.

If you're like me, and catch yourself labeling challenges, try to resist the urge. Focus on finding your groove. Understand the process. Practice. Show up. Show up again and again.

The hardest parts are no match for perseverance and consistency.

"This week flew by."

"Wow. It felt like this week lasted a lifetime."

"Was that Monday? That seems like ages ago."

"I can't believe it's already been a year."

Time is constant, yet it always feels like it's moving fast or slow. Our commitments, hopes, and fears shape our perceptions.

We cannot control time; but we can control our relationship with it. We can recognize its rhythm and design our world to get in sync. Or we can ride the wave, always falling behind or racing to catch up.

"You should be far more concerned with your current trajectory than with your current results." (James Clear, Atomic Habits)

For the last week, I've been visiting with family in a suburb outside of London. At times, it's been a challenge to keep up with my daily habits, but I've been able to stick with many of them, like reading, writing, and journaling. That said, my exercise regimen, diet, and alcohol consumption have gone by the wayside, by choice.

I've opted to maximize the time to play with my nieces and nephews rather than find time to exercise. I've opted to indulge in one or two sticky toffee puddings with family instead of prioritizing my diet. (It's delicious, by the way.) I've opted to toast with a classic gin and tonic instead of sticking with water. What feels good, though, is that I feel in control. I'm not concerned with how these decisions might impact my life in the near term because I know I'm still on track; my current trajectory is looking good long-term.

I'm excited to continue enjoying what's left of this trip and then hitting the ground running when I return home.

While it's good to be future-oriented and set big goals, we can't forget to be present. When we become obsessed with achieving an outcome, we risk missing what's right in front of us.

"We think we need more and don’t realize we already have so much. We work so hard “for our families” that we don’t notice the contradiction—that it’s because of work that we never see them." (Ryan Holiday, Stillness Is the Key)

Always a welcome reminder; for now, and the future.

While your client may be one of many, to them, you're the only one. Embrace the latter; never give them a reason to be reminded of the former.

"If your shoulder starts to hurt while doing a push-up, the first thing you will do is start making some adjustments to your form. This happens spontaneously and unconsciously. You might slow your speed, move your hands a little bit further apart, or adjust your trunk angle. After a few repetitions of playing around, the shoulder now feels comfortable. Now imagine you are in a class with an instructor telling you exactly how you need to be moving, prescribing the “correct” hand placement, technique, sets and reps. Or worse yet, telling you that you need to stop moving right away and go to the doc. This might inhibit the natural tinkering process that would have solved the problem." (Todd Hargrove, Playing With Movement)

As a manager, it’s natural to want to step in when we see an employee struggling. We know we can leverage our experience to make their lives easier. The trouble is what happens later when we’re not there to provide a step-by-step. They freeze, worrying about remembering the steps instead of feeling out the situation, asking questions, and making their way. The best thing we can do as managers is to teach the fundamentals, leaving enough room for employees to tinker and figure out their version of solving the problem.

The other day, I inflated a balancing disc my mother-in-law got me to keep my feet occupied while sitting at my desk. It's also fun to use for practice balance during a workout. Anyway, as I was nearing the end of inflating it, I noticed it became difficult to see progress in how inflated it was and determine if it was complete.

I'm not sure what it is was about this simple experience, but it made me think about growth in various parts of my life. It was a reminder to keep working toward my goals, even during periods that feel stagnant. Often, you're on the brink of something special, and all you need to do is keep pushing through.

I wonder if we don't ask for feedback more frequently because we don't want the burden of addressing it, not because we're afraid to hear it. When we receive critical feedback, it is natural to feel pressure; pressure to make abrupt changes and find solutions immediately. Rarely does this work or lead to lasting change. Meaningful growth takes time, patience, and discipline.

One of our maxims at Barrel is "all feedback is information." When you look at feedback through this lens, it seems silly for us not to crave feedback daily if we're serious about our growth.

Whether positive or critical, feedback is information that we do not have access to on our own about our work, way of being, and performance. It helps us better understand ourselves and how we interact with the world around us. We can choose to resist it, but the fact is that the feedback, or the way others perceive us, is not reliant on whether or not we are willing to face it.

I like to think of feedback as fuel for new ideas about how I can be better. Even when it's regarding a positive trait or behavior, how can I do this more? What is it about this that I can bring to other areas of my performance?

When receiving feedback, listen closely and take notes. Maybe you disagree with the feedback and feel you need to speak up. Or, there's missing context, and you need to fill in the gaps. If you do either, the chances are that the feedback giver will shut down, and you will lose access to the precious information that they are offering you. That sounds likes a loss to me.

If we agree that feedback is nothing more than information, the best thing we can do is be curious when we receive it, hungry to understand. As you listen to the feedback, ask questions to gain more context. Try to put yourself in the feedback giver's shoes and understand their perspective fully. You said that you feel like you're unable to make your own decisions; do you feel like I trust you? If not, what about our relationship makes you feel that way?

Equipped with notes, take time to reflect. What are the few things you can do today, tomorrow, this week to show even 1% improvement in the key areas? Remember, meaningful change doesn't happen overnight. Sort through the details, prioritize, and keep on keeping on!

In my newsletter this week, I explored the benefits of inviting a reset to routine. Barrel CEO and fellow partner Peter Kang responded to the email with a response that I think captures it perfectly: "Love the reset mindset!! Turning curveball into a home run!" Watching Peter become a father two times over and manage to keep up with his routine has been inspiring to witness. A practice I aim to embody as a father someday.

There have certainly been curveballs with my recent relocation. Rather than force my old routine or dwell on the fact that I'm off track, I have come to welcome these curveballs with open arms and see what opportunities they present.

Since Monday, I've adopted a 9 am to 5 pm work schedule, fully embracing the new work hours options we rolled out this week to give the team more flexibility across time zones. This structural adjustment to my day has opened the doors for me to redesign my routine.

What I've loved the most so far is the quiet time in the morning to think and explore ideas, an activity I used to embark on toward the end of the day. There's clarity of mind in the morning that is hard to capture at the end of the workday.

I start my day by writing in my journal before checking my phone or engaging with the world. Then, I get ready, completing my Readwise Daily Review while brushing my teeth. Then, I head up to my office to read for 30 minutes.

Over the last couple of months, I stopped reading in the morning and transitioned to getting it done just before bed. While I enjoyed how reading provided a calming moment before sleep, I find that reading paired with the other morning rituals is powerful for generating ideas and easing into the day.

After reading, the goal is to write and think. If I'm lucky, I'll get my daily note completed. For the last two days, this has not been the case; instead, I ended up drafting two longer pieces that I'm eager to continue exploring. One of which will likely become next week's newsletter!

By 10 am (when I used to begin working), I feel a sense of accomplishment heading into the day. My vision for the future is for the morning to continue to be a sacred time for deep thinking and long-term planning.

“Without great solitude, no serious work is possible.” (Pablo Picasso)

When the day ends at 5 pm, I try to jump right into a workout and get the body moving. Someday I may try to exercise in the morning, but for now, I still find early evening workouts to be an effective way to release the body and mind from the events of the day and enter the evening with renewed energy.

What I find fascinating is that while these activities are all slight adjustments from my old routine, the change in timing has already proven to make a profound difference. In the past, there were many days where I felt trapped by my daily rituals. I'd stay up late to get my reading in or have to skip working out so I could make dinner. Now, by 6 pm, my goal is to have all my daily rituals completed, leaving ample time to do whatever I want until my head hits the pillow. This feeling is freeing, and the joy it brings is priceless.

"To some, routine can sound like where creativity and innovation go to die—the ultimate exercise in boredom. We even use the word as a synonym for pallid and bland, as in “It has just become routine for me.” And routines can indeed become this—the wrong routines. But the right routines can actually enhance innovation and creativity by giving us the equivalent of an energy rebate. Instead of spending our limited supply of discipline on making the same decisions again and again, embedding our decisions into our routine allows us to channel that discipline toward some other essential activity." (Greg McKeown, Essentialism)

Easier said than done.

However, if you can describe the steps and imagine the outcome, how hard can it be? Are you passionate enough to take the first step? Courageous enough to see where it leads us?

If the answer is no, who cares how easy it is to say? It must not be worthwhile pursuing.

I have this theory that many of the perceived challenges of remote work are gaps that have always existed but have become illuminated now that we can't run over to a coworker's desk in the middle of the day.

Last week, we hosted our quarterly town hall and monthly team meeting. For these team-wide meetings, we enjoy experimenting with new formats regularly. Our focus is on hosting meetings that feel more like a team-wide dialogue than a formal presentation.

Back in the office days, we didn't talk about team meeting engagement nearly as much as we do as a remote-first company. Now, we're hard on ourselves when less than a few people participate. We use this as fuel by asking for feedback and identifying areas to improve the next time around.

From that perspective, I think our team-wide meetings have only gotten better since going remote. We used to rely on non-verbals and laughter to gauge engagement. These days, with Zoom and the need for muting, this can be a challenge.

This constraint has forced us to think more deeply about our time together. Here are a few changes from the last several months:

• Roll out straightforward updates via email memo (introducing a new role, work hours updates, etc.)
• Email team ahead of meeting to let them know what we're covering and give them time to think/prepare when necessary
• Feedback forms, especially when experimenting with new workshops