I got my booster today.
I thought it’d be prudent given I’m soon heading back to the UK—which is a bit of a COVID mess right now.
It’s crazy to think that two years ago we hadn’t heard about COVID, yet now we sit here with global vaccination programs and a possible end of the pandemic in 2022.
With each vaccine dose, I’ve paused to be grateful. They’re our best shot at returning to normalcy and giving us the freedom to spend time with those that we love.
I don’t want to take that for granted.
The competition for attention is exhausting.
Take our inboxes for example, they’re constantly flooded with promotions, special offers, and deals. It all becomes one big blur.
We used to have to sort through the noise one by one. Read emails, check notifications, or sort through circulars. We also used to feel a responsibility—and obligation—to do so.
But once we accept the noise will be incessant and never ending, we can free ourselves from it.
Features like automatic filtering within Gmail’s inbox turns the chore of sorting into a quick glance. Notifications on most apps and devices can be turned off without consequence. And almost all circulars can be thrown out without a first look.
The most important information will rise to the top. We can rid ourselves of the noise.
I’m staying in an AirBnb on Mount Paku for a weekend away with my best friends from childhood.
It has a wonderful view of the Tairua Estuary, and has a bird feeder that attracts a number of native New Zealand birds.
I managed to capture a few slow motion videos of the birds flying up to the feeder.
They may not know it, but they’ve got an amazing breakfast with a view.
The competition for attention is exhausting.
Take our inboxes for example, they’re constantly flooded with promotions, special offers, and deals. So much so, they all become one big blur.
We used to have to sort through this noise one by one. Read emails, check notifications, or sort through circulars. We also used to feel a responsibility—and obligation—to do so.
But once we accept the noise will be incessant and never ending, we can free ourselves from it.
Features like automatic filtering within Gmail’s inbox turns the chore of sorting into a quick glance. Notifications on most apps can be turned off without consequence. And almost all circulars can be thrown out without a first look.
The most important information will rise to the top. We can rid ourselves of the noise.
I’m not usually one for the motivational quotes on gym walls—I find them a bit trite and cheesy—but today I saw one that I liked.
“If it doesn’t challenge you, it won’t change you.”
It’s easy to complain about the challenge, but it’s often the only thing between us and getting better.
We got up at 05:30 this morning to walk up Mauao. I love the story of how the mountain came to be.
“Mauao is the sacred mountain at the entrance to Tauranga Harbour. Its name, meaning ‘caught in the light of the day’, comes from the legend in which Mauao was once a nameless mountain, spurned in love by the beautiful mountain Pūwhenua. One night he begged the fairy-like creatures of the forest to drag him to the ocean and end his misery. But the creatures fled as the morning sun’s rays struck, and he was transfixed on the spot.”
We caught the sunrise and were equally transfixed.
I recently noticed how I spend significantly more time on goals for work compared to personal ones.
So I’ve taken time this week to reflect on 2021 and set personal goals for 2022.
Instead of reinventing the wheel, I used Rohan’s annual reflection template.
They cover the right set of topics for what I need: highlights, lessons learned, sources of learning, themes for the year ahead, etc.
I also like how the questions are easy to answer, but also inspire me to take the time to write out thoughtful responses.
I’m pairing it with a set of annual and quarterly goals that I’ll revisit throughout the year.
An individual, team, or company can only focus on one thing at a time, maybe two.
Any more than two, and the focus is spread too thin.
Things will always be added to our plates, and our typical reaction is to think, “I can make it work.”
But the trade-offs, and their consequences, aren’t immediately apparent.
We bury ourselves in the work, and only further down the road we realise we’re overextended.
Although it takes discipline to anticipate future challenges, ruthlessly prioritise, and build in a margin of safety, what’s the cost of not doing it?
For 15 years—from the time I was 5 til 20–I can’t remember my mum ever swimming in the ocean.
It just wasn’t her thing, she said.
The sun too hot. The water too cold. Someone needed to watch our stuff.
However, more than a decade later, she’s been in the water every day on this recent trip to the beach.
Shocked, I asked her what changed.
She said, “As I get older, I choose to be open to new things and experiences.”
And that was it. No further explanation.
I then started to notice other small changes that have built up over the years.
She goes to the gym almost every day; something she never did when I was a kid. She reads voraciously—even more than she used to. And she’s now always up for a trip on the boat with my dad.
She’s quietly and consistently setting a great example on choosing to be more open with age.
I’m really proud of her.
Playing board games is one of our camping traditions.
This year, we brought 10 with us.
Not excessive, at all.
From strategy, to numbers, to cards, to words, to abstract—we’ve got a sufficient range and styles to satisfy everyone in our 8-person group.
Quite a few are 2-player games that Dad and I get a lot of mileage from, and the rest of them are a mixture of classics (i.e., Catan), and off-the-wall (i.e., Dixit).
Dad and I have a rivalry on Yinsh, an awesome 2-player that requires equal parts abstract and strategic thinking. Super easy to learn, but tremendous depth once you get into it.
Codenames has become a staple every night after dinner, as it’s a great word/guessing game for a larger group.
I’m also really enjoying Azul, because although there’s an element of competition, the goal is to complete a mosaic of tiles which makes it quite relaxing.
Full list here:
Let me know if you’ve got recommendations for larger groups, or if you’ve got a few family favourites!
Catching the fish and eating it is the fun part.
But it also comes with a tax: an early morning start, weather checking, route planning, boat cleaning, and quite a bit of mess.
But the tax doesn’t have to be a cost. It can also be an investment: a memory, a story, and a moment that can’t be traded.
I’ve loved going out fishing with the family over the past week. Dad did it a tonne when he was a kid, but our family only did the odd bit when I was young.
So we’re making up for it now!
It may not be fishing for you and yours, but it’s worth asking what’s the tax you’ll pay to create those most valuable memories?
I’m currently camping by the beach with family for 2 weeks.
We’re at the base of Mt Maunganui. It was our Christmas Break spot for more than a decade as I was growing up, and it’s great to be back.
With my 3-year-old nephew now on the scene, we’re taking a lot of photos. In the midst of capturing a funny moment, or new experience, there often isn’t time to set up a nice shot.
Balance. Exposure. Contrast. Saturation. Alignment. Framing.
It really doesn’t matter if what you’re trying to capture is the emotion, the moment, the memory.
When we’re framing memories, it doesn’t need to be perfect.
Part of the joy of this blog is getting messages from you folks—things that reminded you of posts, or ideas you think are worth sharing.
I wrote back in November about how nature can have a mind of its own, and how sometimes we need to build around it rather than fight it.
Lucy shared the below photo from a recent canopy walk in Thailand, and it was too stunning not to share.
It’s wonderful idea to finish the year on for a few reasons: 1) it’s good practice to reflect back on things we’ve learnt throughout the year, 2) and what we learn is always better when shared.
So thanks for joining me this year, folks! It’s been a blast.
Happy New Year, and here’s to all that’s to come.
Dad and I went cycling today along a track in the Bay of Plenty.
Almost everyone who we came across smiled and said a hearty, “Hello!”
It’s been a while since I’ve been back in New Zealand, and I missed these outdoor greetings.
It’s not that they don’t happen elsewhere—because they do—but rather that they happen so reliably and ubiquitously here.
It reminded me of Seth Godin’s idea: people like us do things like this.
Things like this are a culture, a habit, a way of life.
They don’t just happen.
Not can they be bought.
And for all things that can’t be bought, they need to be cared for, maintained, passed down, and preserved.
In many countries 911, 112, 111, and 999 all work.
When there’s an emergency, it’s unwise to be pedantic which numbers are right or wrong.
It’s better to make it as easy as possible to get hold of emergency services—no matter who you are, what country you’re in, or what number you learnt growing up.
There’s something in here we can learn for the products, services, and processes were responsible for building because, sometimes, the rules can hurt more than help.