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If we have the same perspective, we have the same blind spots.

Thus, we should welcome contrarian, encourage their input, and celebrate their point of view. Even if their presence results in hard conversations.

We don’t get to better by thinking the same.

Have you ever felt overwhelmed by all the things you have to do? Do you ever get the niggling feeling that you may have forgotten something important?

I constantly felt like this until I read Daniel Levitin’s ‘The Organised Mind’ back in 2018.

There is a lot of information in the book, but one idea stood out from the rest: there is immense value in externalising your mind.

What does this mean?

Whenever you remember an important task, immediately write it down; either on paper, or in a to-do list app.

The act of taking a thought out of your head—and putting it in a place where you can easily access it in the future—frees up mental bandwidth. You no longer need to expend energy remembering upcoming tasks.

I found this particularly helpful on weekends. When a thought popped into my head about something I need to do first thing on Monday, I immediately took out my phone and wrote it down. I could then focus on my weekend.

This idea may sound plain, and it is. But it’s real power appears when it becomes an automatic habit.

When you’re playing with a dog—tussling and rolling about—and it sneezes, it’s telling you something.

It’s saying, “We’re playing, and I’m having fun.”

I spent years with Ruby—my family dog in New Zealand—not knowing what these sneezes meant. They now make sense.

We can use all the codes and signals we want, but unless the other person knows what we’re saying, we’ll never understand each other.

P.S. Dogs are amazing.

The true test of a person’s character is how they treat the people in life that they don’t need.” —Lee Corso

Every day we give others the chance to see our true character.

More importantly, every day we get the opportunity to move closer to who we want to be.

The race horse doesn’t choose to wear blinkers.

The jockey and trainer make that decision.

Depending on the situation, blinkers can help or hinder.

I’m sure if you’re a jockey, they’re helpful. But if you’re going on a cross-country horse riding trek, they’re more dangerous than helpful.

We all have blinkers in our own lives; knowingly or unknowingly.

What blinkers have you got on today? This week? This year? Since you were born?

My late grandfather gave me a piece of advice I’ve never forgotten.

When you’re unwell, don’t doubt the magic of what a hot shower, a shave, and a fresh pair of clothes can do to help you feel better.

Taking care of what you can control powerfully influences what you can’t.

Our willingness to say, “I could be wrong,” is an antidote to many maladies in the workplace and in the home.

In fact, the medicine is even stronger when we have the humility to say, “I got it wrong.”

At the turn of the decade (okay, so, three weeks ago), I linked a few posts covering others’ predictions for the 2020s.

One prediction from Alex Danco stood out to me: the smartphone is it.

There will be no major form-factor that supersedes the smartphone. The phone is it. If you went forward in time to 2029, you’d be surprised that the phones are more or less the same. The 2×5 inch glowing glass rectangle will remain more or less similar as our common interface with the internet and with the world. Nicer in some ways, and they’ll have some genuinely cool AR features, but other than that? We figured out the phone. It’s gonna stay put now.

I’ve since spent a lot of time thinking about this, and I’ve arrived at two reflections.

Firstly, the form of this prediction is great. It’s bold, clear, and plausible. Predictions shouldn’t be vague or limp. Danco does well.

Secondly, I think it’s wrong. Really wrong.

For the majority of human history we passed on our knowledge and culture through stories told from one generation to the next.

In the past 5,000 years, we’ve had written language. Letters and books immortalised our ideas.

Then, in the 19th Century, photography and telephony entered the scene. We could now capture an image and have it say something across cultures and generations. We could also speak to each other across vast distances.

The next century brought the first television, which changed how families consume knowledge and interact with the world.

And the 21st Century is where we’ve grown into the potential of the internet. It’s been a rapid march from instant messaging, to audio, and video. With true VR and AR on the horizon.

All this to say, the past 100 years have seen huge changes in the way we communicate and interact with each other; made possible by technology.

Danco’s prediction that the smartphone is the final destination is forgetting how much has changed even in the last 20 years.

I think there’ll be something else.

What exactly?

I don’t want to hazard a guess.

The sun is finally starting to emerge before 8am.

Since the winter solstice in late December, each day has been longer than the last. The daily change, though, has been largely imperceptible.

It’s the early morning blue sky—instead of darkness—that makes you realise change is afoot.

The small changes—minutes of additional sunlight each day—compound over time to produce seismic shifts: trees come into bloom, animals awake from their slumber, and humans eventually enjoy the sun in the parks.

Lest we forget, it’s the small, measured, and consistent actions that end up producing the biggest effects in the long run.

H/T Kylene for noticing the blue skies!

I love the famous Chinese proverb, “The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is now.”

It’s never too late to try something new. To meet new friends, try new hobbies, and seek new experiences.

But although it’s never too late, it’s best to start now.

It’s easy to get caught in a worry state of mind.

We solve one worry, then another rears its head. We flit from problem to problem; our to-do list never finished.

It’s scary to consider, but maybe we derive meaning—in a weird way—from feeling like we have to solve the next worry on the list.

This has a crushing second-order consequence, though: we spend less time on important things.

Less time with family. Less time pursuing a new skill. Less time resting.

But perhaps it’s liberating to know another worry is just around the corner. Perhaps we can use it to our advantage.

If we know it’s coming—whatever it may be—it can’t catch us by surprise. We then have a chance to respond; to control it, rather than it control us.

Have you ever learnt a new word, and then soon after started seeing it everywhere?

I feel that way about the author, David Foster Wallace. I’m surprised I only learnt about him this year, but since then, he’s appeared in blogs, speeches, and in conversations with friends; all referencing the man and his wisdom.

I loved this short story from his book ‘This is Water’.

There are these two young fish swimming along and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says “Morning, boys. How’s the water?” And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes “What the hell is water?”

Wallace goes on to say, “The point of the fish story is merely that the most obvious, important realities are often the ones that are hardest to see and talk about.”

In other words, the timeless ideas for what make a good life are often hidden in plain sight, and we don’t often talk about them because they sound like banal platitudes. I’ve touched on this subject before in ‘Take the stairs, eat more veggies’.

It’s also tempting—when writing and posting each day—to always be on the hunt for fresh, undiscovered ideas to share. But this story is a reminder that it’s perhaps more important to relearn, reflect, and practise the simple, timeless ideas for living.

Every January, it’s packed in the gym.

Scant space. Claustrophobia central.

Also known as: Sardine January.

The gym business model is crazy. Since I learnt about it, I have yet to come across another one like it.

“Let’s sign up tonnes of people in January, and make our money when most of them don’t turn up for the rest of the year but continue to pay,” said the honest gym owner.

Under this model, members who don’t use the gym subsidise the ones who do. All gym owners have to do is get through a packed and miserable January.

But February is just around the corner. When resolve wanes, the gym will go back to being a pleasant, spacious place.

And for those keen to continue their gym streak, they’ll get a cracking, subsidised deal.

There is no deeper lesson or idea here, it’s just a fascinating look into a weird business model. Although, I am left with a question: does a better gym business model exist?

Note: I listened to this excellent Planet Money podcast episode last year on this topic (for those interested in learning more). It was only when I couldn’t comfortably make my way round the gym this past week that I decided to write on the subject.

I’m not a natural when it comes to home DIY. So I marvel—and get a little jealous—at how easy it comes to others.

For the past 2 months, we’ve had a few broken items in our kitchen and bathroom. I was unable to find a convenient time with the handyman, so I tried to ignore the issues.

But miraculous things happen when you have guests visiting in a few days.

I unboxed replacement items, read manuals, pulled out dusty screwdrivers, and swallowed imaginary patience pills.

I didn’t get close to fixing everything, but I made a start.

Sometimes, even if we think we’re out of our depth, all we need to do is pull out the manual, take a deep breath, and give it a go. What’s the worst that can happen?

I’ve posted before about how the double decker bus is a magical way to get around London.

Every so often, though, I come across a story or idea that changes the way I see things. Being open to those ideas—and sharing them—is the point of this blog.

This weekend’s BBC article did just that.

Little did I know that during the evening hours London buses become a safe haven for the homeless. There are 24-hour routes offering warmth and sleep as they travel across the city.

The article follows the story of Sunny, a Nigerian man who slept on these buses for 21-years as he seeked asylum in the UK. It’s a story of tragedy, hardship, and hope. And one that has me looking at each red double decker with new eyes.