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It takes me the first few weeks of January to realise I’m in a new year; at least when it comes to writing the date.

Although writing ‘2020’ instead of ‘2019’ is a mild change, it’s easy to forget. Maybe you’ve scratched out a few ‘2019s’ this past week, too?

When we’re faced with new realities—especially ones more complicated than a date change—it’s normal and natural to need time to adapt.

And giving ourselves a little grace when we make mistakes is a recipe for easier transitions.

I just finished William Zinsser’s excellent book, ‘On Writing Well,’ and I love how he used the example of Joe DiMaggio, one of baseball’s all time greats, to define what makes a careful writer.

No one looked more relaxed than Joe. He “covered vast distances in the outfield, always arriving ahead of the ball, making the hardest catch look routine, and even when he was at bat, hitting the ball with tremendous power, he didn’t appear to be exerting himself.”

When a reporter asked about his outstanding form and consistency, he said: “I always thought that there was at least one person in the stands who had never seen me play, and I didn’t want to let him down.”

This idea extends beyond baseball and writing. Whatever your craft, imagine your work in the hands of at least one person who hasn’t seen it before. Who knows where it’ll take you.

If you’re interested in improving your writing—or occasionally need answers to those niggly punctuation questions—you should check out The Punctuation Guide.

It’s got a simple user interface, with clear explanations, and helpful examples. It’s a world of punctuation answers within a few clicks.

If writing comprises any meaningful part of your life (yes, this includes email), it may pay to bookmark it for a rainy day.

Australia’s current bushfire is a climate tragedy.

A 2019 Australian government report on wildfires and climate change said, “Human-caused climate change has resulted in more dangerous weather conditions for bushfires in recent decades for many regions of Australia.”

How does this work?

The drier the fuel (trees and plants), the easier it is for fires to start, and the longer those fires can burn.

Despite its global media coverage, the sheer magnitude of this bushfire is hard to put into perspective.

Twitter user, Bodie Ashton (@manwithoutatan), shared some helpful comparisons to help others grasp the scale of the issue.

• More Australian land is burning than exists in the entire country of Belgium
• 500 million animals have been killed
• 23 people have died
• In parts of Sydney, breathing the air is equivalent to smoking a pack of cigarettes
• The smoke is causing breathing problems in my homeland, New Zealand, more than 2,000kms away; even the glaciers are turning brown due to the smoke, ash, and dust
• The average temperature across Australia is above 40 degrees Celsius (105 degrees Fahrenheit)
• The current bushfire started 3 months ago, and is likely to continue for at least another 3 months
• The fires are being fought by volunteers

This is a frightening insight into 1) the impact we’re having on our planet, and 2) the colossal climate challenge we have to face in the coming decades.

But today, all I can muster in response is that my thoughts and prayers are with all Australians.

Some days are for new experiences; others for transit.

Transit days can be frustrating. Even those 2-hour flights can turn into all-day headaches due to security, immigration, and journeys to and from the airport. It can feel like we’re wasting precious time.

But in travel, and in life, these moments exist to help us get where we need to go. Transit days may not feel like fun, but they help us arrive.

I use TripAdvisor to find places to eat when traveling. Crowdsourcing your restaurant decision making gets good eats at good prices.

This week in Hội An, Vietnam, I came across a restaurant called ‘Home Kitchen’. The food was fresh and tasty; consistent with the 5-star reviews. However, their real point of difference is their owner, Bông, a friendly woman in her late-thirties. I loved how she took the time to come to our table and share her story with us.

Bông was born here in Hội An, and always had a dream to start her own restaurant. She worked for 11 years at another local eatery to save the money needed to start Home Kitchen; a restaurant focusing on Hội An delicacies and home-style Vietnamese dishes.

Bông talked joyfully about hiring her six neighbours, all of whom she grew up with. She spoke with pride about paying them an above average salary, and providing them with a safe and secure job. And we saw evidence of this too; the open kitchen allows guests to see the staff smiling and laughing as they prepare the food.

We often hear about people starting businesses for the freedom, autonomy, and financial upside. But Bông’s goal is to also provide meaningful and fair employment to those close to her. By making sacrifices over 11 years to pursue her dream, she’s changing the game for those in her neighbourhood and community.

Every business has a founding story, and it was a real pleasure to learn of Bông’s this week.

The rules for crossing the road in Vietnam can seem otherworldly at first:

• Just step out
• Don’t pause to look both ways
• Trust the traffic will move to avoid you

However, what may seem otherworldly is just a different social contract.

Instead of “we look both ways, and cross when green,” it’s, “we agree to move a little slower, and adjust to each other.”

Whether there are more rules, or fewer rules, it doesn’t really matter. As long as when we’re playing, we’re all using the same rulebook.

I’m sitting in the calm of the first morning of the new decade.

I can hear the waves and birds, but not a whisper of human noise.

And in this moment, it hits me: I’m grateful that I look to the 2020s with hope and possibility.

Not everyone gets that.

So when it’s there, there’s a responsibility to acknowledge it, to accept it, to touch and feel it like a physical object, because it’s not guaranteed.

Here’s wishing you a great start to the new year, and the new decade!

As 2019 and the 2010s come to a close, there are many reflective posts flying around.

Over the past week, however, I’ve been drawn to the few posts that try and predict the future.

This is, of course, impossible. But that’s why it’s fun.

It requires daring, guts, and a willingness to be wrong in a very public way.

Most of the predictions converge on the ever-increasing role data and A.I. will play in our future, and where our global political climate is headed.

I enjoyed Alex Danco’s 10 predictions for the 2020s. His ideas are considered and bold, with a specific focus on technology, start-ups, and market trends.

I was also inspired by Shideh Bina’s words shared with Fortune. She succinctly gets to the heart of many issues facing humanity, and does so with grace.

“More than any decade I can recall (in the six I have lived through), the next decade will be defined by how well we, as leaders, and as citizens, respond to challenges and threats to our foundational beliefs, structures and institutions. Will we respond with wisdom, courage, accountability and creativity to our climate, our political storms, our vast inequities, our soon-to-be obsolete skills base and our deeply engrained biases about each other and about how things “ought to be”? If we respond well we can turn these threats into glorious, transformative opportunities. If not, we will preside over tragedy. The transformation required to prevail also requires a transformation of ourselves as leaders and how we think and act. The decade has not been written, the pen is our hands.”

I don’t yet have the courage or knowledge to make such predictions, and it’s liberating to admit that. I’d like to though; maybe one day.

Happy New Year, folks! And here’s to the next decade!

I’m in Vietnam for the next week. And less than 24 hours in, all the reasons why I love this place have come flooding back.

Back in 2014, I spent 4 months here working on a BCG project based out of Hạ Long Bay. The natural beauty was unlike anything I’d seen in New Zealand. Hundreds of limestone islands greeted me each morning when I looked out my window; like a dragon they dipped in and out of the clear waters and stretched across the horizon.

It was also a professional coming-of-age moment. It was my first time working without the safety net of friends, family, and traditional western culture. Even little things, like needing to complete documents 1 week early to allow time for translation, helped me understand the challenges of working in a multi-lingual environment with a different worldview.

Above all else, my Vietnamese colleagues were warm and generous. We became friends following many hours working in the hotel restaurant, as there were no other rooms available to work. They welcomed me into their homes to celebrate the birthdays of their children, took me to their treasured hole-in-the-wall Hanoian pho shops, and have since invited me to celebrate with them at their weddings.

They made me feel at home.

My posts over the next week will, no doubt, be influenced by Vietnam; it’s impossible to spend time here without being inspired by the warmth of its people, and the richness of its culture.

After sharing my 2019 reading list, I received a number of emails from those of you who’ve added books to your reading lists or given me recommendations for 2020. I’m grateful this blog has allowed me to have these conversations with you. I’ve discovered, learnt, and grown more because of your generosity.

This reminded me of a quote from Yoshida Kenko, a Japanese monk from the 1300s.

It is a most wonderful comfort to sit alone, book spread before you, and commune with someone from the past whom you have never met.

Kenko has inspired me to begin tackling older texts; to seek ideas that have persisted over generations, rather than the noise of the latest publishing cycle.

Mentorship has renewed possibility when viewed through Kenko’s lens.

I was out walking in a small Malaysian town this morning when I came across a set of power lines engulfed by mango trees.

The wires disappeared among the fruit, leaves, and branches; making them inaccessible and dangerous to maintain.

An annual tree trimming would’ve made managing the power lines easier, but it’s now a complex job just to untangle the mess.

Every system declines into chaos if left unattended for long enough; this is known as entropy.

Software breaks, friendships grow stale, plants wither, knowledge is lost, and companies become complacent.

Once we’re aware of entropy, we start seeing it everywhere.

It’s our responsibility, then, to decide what’s important to us, and work conscientiously to prevent entropy’s impact in our workplaces, relationships, and bodies.

I’m currently in the market for online Spanish tutoring. I’m conversational, but I’d love to be fluent.

A potential tutor asked me over email what areas I’d like to work on, and my response was, “There are some verb structures I never get right.”

But I immediately felt uncomfortable about that reply, so I changed it to say, “There are some verb structures I haven’t got right yet.”

The difference is subtle, but significant.

“Never” hints at defeat before we’ve even begun; even if we have an aspiration to improve.

Whereas “not yet” says we aren’t quite there, but we’re on our way to better places.

When taking on new challenges, the words we choose set the tone for the journey ahead.

Buried in the depths of my grandparent’s cabinets sit 20 photo albums with memories from the past 50 years.

My mum comes from a big family: she’s one of 8 siblings, her father the eldest of 11, and her mother the eldest of 16; so we’ve got hundreds of photos spanning many generations.

Every time I’m back in Malaysia, I spend a few hours pouring over these photos, resolving to digitise them one day, but never actually doing it.

This trip is different.

A couple days ago, I downloaded PhotoScan by Google Photos, sat down with the photo albums, and got to work.

The app is great; as you’d expect from Google. The user captures an image from multiple angles, and the app stitches it together into one image without the glare. And it’s all saved immediately to the Camera Roll and Google Photos.

If you’re visiting family this holiday season, and have those albums that you’ve always been meaning to digitise, an hour with PhotoScan should relieve you of the anxiety that you may lose those memories.

One of my greatest pleasures of 2019 has been watching my nephew’s personality unfold since he was born 12 months ago.

When I give him a cuddle and start to sing, he joins in.

It’s a tiny, open-mouthed, “Ahhh,” held for 1-2 seconds at a time.

He sings without inhibition.

And his lack of it makes everyone smile.

Somewhere along the way, though, we learn inhibition.

We discover that the school yard rebukes those who act differently. We’re chastised for colouring outside the lines. We learn shame.

When we’re doing work that matters, it’s easy to fall victim to inhibition, to worry about failure, or to feel self-conscious.

My nephew’s singing, though soft and sweet, is a bold reminder to let go of what other’s may think.