Notes

My brother, Nick, had a friend growing up who could never hang out when he had one “big” event going on that day, a family dinner, going to the DMV, decorating the Christmas tree, etc. It frustrated Nick. He wondered what happened to the other 13 or so hours of the day.

I find myself guilty of this mindset now and then, despite knowing how silly it is. When there is something "big" I need to get done, my instinct can be to clear the day to make room for it. Otherwise, I worry that I will not have the time to reach completion.

The truth, though, is that I do this when I have no plan. I want to clear my day because I cannot see the path to completion. Without that clarity, I let the one  "big" task takes precedence over everything else.

In these moments, I remind myself to pause, thinking through how to spend my time. Then, getting clear on what completion looks like at every stage of the process. Rather than losing a whole day to write my newsletter, I focus on when I want to have a concept, first draft, and final edit. This simple step puts my mind at ease and frees up space to focus on other important areas of life.

I wonder if Nick's friend was a poor planner or just needed clarity on a few details for his "big" event to make better use of his day.

Inspired by The Path of Least Resistance by Robert Fritz, I've enjoyed thinking about this question lately: If all of your problems disappeared tomorrow, what would you want?‍

When your problems frame your vision, you create imaginary barriers around your future.

What do you really want?

We've all met someone who "thought of that" invention before it hit the market and became wildly successful. I'm not that person, but I do have a story.

When I was in first, maybe second grade, I was crazy about skateboarding. So much so that my sixth-grade assessment topic was "the history of skateboarding." I can still remember the poster board of painted red bricks. Anyway, I digress. I wanted to keep skating while at school, and I couldn't, so I decided to create a mini version of my skateboard.

I cut index cards into the shape of a skateboard, filled the bottom layer with glue, and folded up the sides so my fingers could stay attached. Then, I waited for the glue to dry and become firm before adding artwork to the bottom. The final touch was wrapping the entire thing in tape, my version of waterproofing.

These glue-filled boards were all the rage among my friends. I started making them for kids on the playground, custom artwork included. I can't remember if I charged them or not, but I want to say that a "skateboard" was 25 cents.

In 2008, Tech Deck hit the scene, and I was out of business. If you ask my Dad today, he'll tell you that he still gets sick thinking about this.

If you can't beat them, join them. I joined the Tech Deck movement and pivoted my "business." If you're not familiar with Tech Deck, their skateboards are identical, miniature copies of real skateboards, wheels, trucks, hardware, and all. I'll admit, I still find them super cool.

Tech Deck boards were so realistic, I dreamed of having a mini version of my skateboard. Turns out, so did all the other kids, but naturally, Tech Deck didn't have every skateboard you could buy in real life (especially the more budget-friendly boards I owned).

Fairly new to the power of the internet, I logged on to CCS.com, learned how to resize the image of my board (in MS Paint?), and printed it. With some glue stick action and fancy scissor work, I had a personalized Tech Deck. After I had a few boards under my belt, I began offering this service to my fellow skateboard enthusiasts.

I look back on these memories fondly. I don't think what if? I think about how they were early signs of my love for invention, design, and entrepreneurship.

All said, it is a good reminder that ideas are nothing without action, no matter how big or small. Everyone has ideas. Few of us are passionate enough to go after them with the belief and perseverance to make them a reality. On a second-grade scale, I'd like to think I did. For my seven-year-old self, that was a success.

A couple of years before, my startup did fail, though. I decided to open a bank (I don't know why), photocopying dollar bills onto neon green paper. When my Pop-Pop got wind of it, he shut down the whole operation, sternly filling me in on the illegal nature of what I was doing. That's a story for next time.

"If the quiet moments are the best moments, and if so many wise, virtuous people have sung their praises, why are they so rare? Well, the answer is that while we may naturally possess stillness, accessing it is not easy." (Ryan Holiday, Stillness Is the Key)

We love to be productive.

"Being productive is about occupying your time—filling your schedule to the brim and getting as much done as you can. Being effective is about finding more of your time unoccupied and open for other things besides work. Time for leisure, time for family and friends. Or time for doing absolutely nothing." (Jason Fried, David Heinemeier Hansson, It Doesn't Have to Be Crazy at Work)

Are we afraid to be effective? To have nothing to check off our to-do list? To discover the power in sitting alone with our thoughts?

"While the magnitude and urgency of our struggle is modern, it is rooted in a timeless problem. Indeed, history shows that the ability to cultivate quiet and quell the turmoil inside us, to slow the mind down, to understand our emotions, and to conquer our bodies has always been extremely difficult. “All of humanity’s problems,” Blaise Pascal said in 1654, “stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.”" (Ryan Holiday, Stillness Is the Key)

My Pop-Pop once told my brothers and me that he couldn’t see the difference between the colors of the traffic lights while driving. At a few decibels higher than necessary, he shared his approach with passion, “I know the top is the red one, the middle is yellow, and the bottom one is green. What else do I need to know!?”

I was old enough to be a bit alarmed, but the only driving he did was back and forth to his job at Wendy’s, so we let it go. We didn’t have much choice in the matter anyway; we knew there was no way he'd give up driving.

That night, I remember thinking about how I never paid much attention to the order of lights on a traffic light. Now, when I get stuck at a red light, I often think of Pops.

Maybe it's a stretch, but when I think about Pops's seemingly hazardous approach to driving now, I see it more like a parable on life. We all make our way through the world differently. My path may not be the one for you and yours for me, but who are we to judge? If we trade that judgment for curiosity, we may just learn a thing or two.

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I wasn't sure why I returned to this story last night, but it came to mind after designing the artwork for yesterday's note on going after what you want, an abstracted greenlight. I love these unconscious links in thought.

People like to say some variation of, "do it now because you never know if you'll get the chance again," but I don't know...that seems like a pretty gloomy outlook on life. I prefer to take a more positive spin.

If there is something you want now, make it happen. Not because you won't have the chance, but because life happens, things change.

• You still want those funky shoes you never bought at 25, but at 35, maybe it's not the best look.
• You still daydream of walking the Brooklyn Bridge on a warm Spring day. It never seemed urgent when you lived in NYC, and now, 12 years later, you're living back home in Sweden, and it isn't so convenient.
• Every time you see a Vespa, you imagine yourself zipping around town to pick up groceries and visit friends. Now, you live in a quiet suburban neighborhood. You could get the Vespa, but it wouldn't be the same.

Whether you're seeking the feeling of wearing funky shoes or your hair flowing in the wind doesn't matter. Either way, you'll always wonder what it would have felt like to make that choice.

Sometimes, it won't be what you expect, but living without the weight of wonder and regret is priceless. Other times, it will exceed your expectations. In either case, it may even inadvertently lead to somewhere new. There are few examples of this in my life that immediately come to mind.

Wanted to make a new friend: If I hadn't mustered up the courage to talk to the kid at the bus stop wearing the same shoes as me in fourth grade, I wouldn't have met Kyle. We've been best friends ever since. By the way, we were born nine days apart. Weird.

Wanted to try teaching: If I hadn't decided to inquire about starting a Teaching Assistant program within the Graphic and Interactive Design program in college, I wouldn't have met my wife, Dana, in my first class. I loved teaching. I feel lucky to know that and that somehow it will fit into my future.

Wanted to experience a new city: If I hadn't chosen to move to NYC, I wouldn't have landed at Barrel. I'd probably still be wondering what it would be like to live here, but at this point, less interested in the pace. Oh, and the job that got me to the city? Not what I expected, but hey, it got me here.

Why wonder when you can find out now?

In our pursuit of efficiency, we look for every opportunity to remove the manual part of the process. The more we automate, the more we standardize, the faster we can create. But at what point does our race toward efficiency go too far?

Whether we're redesigning a client's website or launching a marketing campaign, the objective of efficiency during the creative process is about more than speed. Building efficiency creates more space to be creative. By reducing repetitive work, we gain time to focus on thinking big.

We can:

• Create base templates for brainstorm sessions to spend more time brainstorming
• Design a core set of UI elements for wireframes to spend more time imagining the best user experience
• Automate platform setup & configuration to spend more time building and refining the website

When we become obsessed with efficiency, focusing solely on speed, we risk losing our creative firepower. We go beyond the repetitive work and start standardize what made projects special: our ideas. We remove the brainstorm session, and instead, every project begins with a set of boilerplate concepts based on the client.

We slowly become less connected to our work as it becomes formulaic. We start wondering if we're even needed at all.

When you're looking for opportunities to be more efficient, look for the mindless work that happens every time, not the work that requires creativity and thought, even if sometimes that's what takes the longest.

Why do we crave recognition?

Why do we want our work to be acknowledged?

For me, these are signs of progress when I'm doing work that impacts others. I feel good when I achieve a goal, but I often don't feel a true sense of accomplishment until relevant parties notice the step forward.

"Love that document you put together! Super helpful for future projects."

"Great workshop! I enjoyed the new format. Thanks for running that!"

While there is often an audience for the work I do, expecting behavior from them is no way to build momentum because, for one, what if it never comes? Do you stop and give up?

The more that I explore the source of this mindset, I notice there's more to the story: getting clear on what I set out to do in the first place. I seek recognition or acknowledgment when I am not clear with myself on what I wanted to create.

For example, it's not about completing the deck; it's about the team having the autonomy to repeat a process without guidance or clients getting more hands-on during a design presentation.

Recognition is different than feedback. While being recognized may feel good and lift our spirits, it's temporary and rarely actionable enough to move an idea forward. To create results, what we want is information. Information we can get when we ask for specific feedback.

Vision: The team has the autonomy to repeat the process without guidance.

• Recognition: "Love that document you put together! Super helpful for future projects."
• Feedback: "Appreciate that your document gives us a reference point for future projects, but I do worry that people won't reference it because of the length. Any thoughts on how we could make it more digestible?"

Vision: The client can engage and give more real-time feedback during the design process.

• Recognition: "Great workshop! I enjoyed the new format. Thanks for running that!"
• Feedback: "Great workshop! The new format was fun. I enjoyed seeing so much engagement from the client during the brainstorm compared to the intro section. I wonder how we can make that part more exciting?"

Once we get clear on what we want to create, feedback can anchor us to the results. From there, we may decide we can move on to discover a new vision or decide there's more work to be done. Either way, we can breathe knowing that we're in control of getting what we need to make our vision a reality.

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Related: "Shaping 'The Path of Least Resistance' to Create the Life You Want"

We love to tell everyone about the singer/songwriter who can't sell out a show but whose records we play on repeat.

We love to tell everyone about the family-owned restaurant that is always empty on a Saturday night but has the most incredible homemade pasta.

We love to tell everyone until everyone knows.

That band? They're sell-outs. Have you heard of this new artist?

That restaurant? The pasta is not the same. Have you tried this new restaurant?

On to the next best-kept secret...

If something feels off, "flagging it" is hardly enough. Flags without suggestions simply create a mark; they don't heal.

If something goes wrong, "I flagged it" gets us nowhere; it turns our heads backward when we should be looking forward.

To most, "I flagged it" sounds like "I told someone there was an issue, but they did nothing. It's not my fault." We waste time and energy pointing fingers.

Sure, maybe someone is accountable, but if we’re a team and we made decisions together, chances are we all played our part in the outcome.

Flag it, and find a way.

I once attended a design conference where a surprising number of the notable designers giving talks mentioned how terrible their experience following a management track was and why designers should steer clear of it.

Okay, I agree that management isn't the right fit for everyone. But, there I was, a designer with a passion for management and so far, loving it.

I sat among the crowd of wide-eyed conference-goers and wondered, what happens if everyone takes their advice? Who will coach, support, and mentor the next generation of designers?

I returned to New York with an intensified desire to continue on my path and share lessons learned along the way, with the hope that those with a passion for creative management may benefit, or simply, stay inspired to keep going.

"As a general, Napoleon made it his habit to delay responding to the mail. His secretary was instructed to wait three weeks before opening any correspondence. When he finally did hear what was in a letter, Napoleon loved to note how many supposedly “important” issues had simply resolved themselves and no longer required a reply." (Ryan Holiday, Stillness Is the Key)

I wonder how Napoleon would have handled instant access to his mail every second of every day. Regardless, he was on to something with snail mail.

It is way too easy these days, and I guess two centuries ago too, to prioritize everything. Sometimes I think we do it because we want to be the hero. We want to come in and resolve every problem. The thing is that when we do that, there is no priority, and no one learns.

Not long ago, a client was emailing a member of our team late at night. The person did not see the back-to-back emails until it was just about bedtime. Unsure how to respond at that hour, they waited until morning.

At the start of the next day, they got in touch with the client for a call. The client immediately apologized for the late-night messages, embarrassed by their behavior. The issue turned out to be a misunderstanding.

I cannot help but think that had the team member seen the emails earlier and responded, the heat of the moment would have been explosive, dominating the evening and making a mountain out of a molehill.

Some issues do require our immediate attention, but more often than not, it pays to be selective.

I remember inviting a classmate to my house to "jam" with me in middle school. He'd play piano while I sang and played guitar. I was looking for more people to perform music with and heard that he was quite good.

Despite being a talented pianist, classically trained through childhood, he could not keep up. There I was, self-taught, jamming away, not even sure what key I was playing in while he sat there trying to make sense of every note. Unfortunately, I had no sheet music to guide him.

On paper, he was brilliant. In practice, it was not a good fit. As he packed up to head home that day, I remember thinking that I should have talked to him about what I imagined our session to be like rather than making assumptions about his background.

Whether it's adding a new member to your band or a new project manager to your team, who is the right hire?

Someone with the perfect skillset?
Someone with the right experience?

The right hire for you may not be the right hire for me, but does that make the candidate any less qualified for the job?

Imagine choosing a spouse or friend based on the skills you think they'll bring to the table or their track record with past relationships. While these areas may get surfaced early on in one way or another, they are not enough, on their own, to determine the future of the relationship.

You know you've found the right hire because you can feel it in your gut.

Maybe they don't have the perfect skillset.
Maybe their experience isn't what you'd expect.

Portfolios, resumes, tests, and personality assessments may help you feel better about that feeling, but when you know, you know. And more often than not, when you don't know, but let what's on paper tell you otherwise, you end up wishing you hadn't.

Tonight, I embarked on a piece that took me on a several-hour journey, much longer than expected. It has been some time since I've gotten lost like that. I can remember writing music in my dorm room until the wee hours of the morning, sitting on the bathroom floor strumming my sunburst acoustic guitar, singing softly to myself. You always wonder if what you're creating will be as exciting to you in the morning.

Part of me loves those moments of discovery, while the other part of me loves my sleep.

This weekend, I was out with family for a bike ride and decided to turn a leisurely ride into a workout using the Tabata training method.

Tabata training is a high-intensity interval training (HIIT) workout program invented by scientist Dr. Izumi Tabata in the 1990s. It is one of my favorite ways to get in a workout while traveling or when I'm looking for an efficient method for getting my heart rate up. Tabata training is simple:

1. Pick just about any form of exercise (biking, running, push-ups, sit-ups, dumbbell curls, jump rope).
2. Practice that movement at full capacity for 20 seconds.
3. Take 10 seconds of rest.
4. Repeat steps 2 & 3 for 8 rounds, a total of 4 minutes.

You can make any workout longer by stacking Tabatas with different movements. For example, a simple and tough 20-minute bodyweight workout could look like this:

• 00:00-04:00 - Tabata #1: Push-Ups
• 04:00-08:00 - Tabata #2: Air Squats
• 08:00-12:00 - Tabata #3: Sit-Ups
• 12:00 -16:00 - Tabata #4: Burpees
• 16:00 -20:00 - Tabata #5: Jumping Jacks

Note: You can add optional rest time but only between Tabatas. Try to keep it under 30 seconds!

If you don't have 20 minutes to spare, keep scaling it down. I know we all have four. Regardless of how long you workout, don't forget to get a stretch in before you get started.

Wondering how to track the time? There's plenty of options that don't require you to count in your head or doing "math." My favorite Tabata timer so far is this one. There are apps, too, but I love the simplicity of this timer on desktop and mobile. Yes, it was loudly screaming 3-2-1 from pant pocket while biking this weekend. Tested and approved.

Happy Tabata-ing.