A prisoner dug a tunnel under the prison wall and managed to escape. He came right out right in the middle of a school playground where a child was playing.
When the prisoner emerged from the tunnel, he was exhilarated. He couldn’t restrain himself and started jumping up and down.
He cried, “I am free, I’m free, I’m free!”
The little child looked at him funny and said:
“That’s nothing. I’m four!”
In a podcast interview, actor Matt Damon was asked whether he was surprised by any of his movies that weren’t as well received as he expected. He said:
“They are all bets to a certain degree…
You don’t see the movie before you make it. You get the ingredients for whatever you’re cooking. You see what the ingredients are, and you go, ‘alright, with all these people around we should be able to do something pretty good.’
Hopefully you start with something you thought was great, and end up with something good.
And some of them just don’t work.”
Among the world’s top five most trafficked websites, one stands out.
This site has 60 million articles available across 332 languages. Two billion people visit the site every month, with thousands adding new content daily. The site has, on average, 5.7 edits per second.
This level of traffic typically means a gold mine for a technology company, but most of the contributors don’t receive a dime. There are no shareholders, and the executives do not have million-dollar compensation packages.
Most amazingly, this website has no ads except for occasional asks for donations to cover operating costs. It’s a rare place on the Internet where you can breathe and read in peace.
An interviewer asked Wikipedia founder Jimmy Wales in 2014, “If Wikipedia were capitalized in the same way as [regular] Silicon Valley companies, wouldn’t you have more money to do more things?”
He replied:
No, no, because if we were in that situation, we wouldn’t care about languages, for example.
If we were supported by advertising, we would care about entries that get another million users in the US but not what might be of interest to another million readers in India.
A big part of my aesthetic vision for Wikipedia is that it is like a temple for the mind. I’m not anti-commerce, but I don’t think it belongs in every aspect of life.
Brad Bird is a film director, animator, and producer at Pixar. He led the production of two major computer-animated films: The Incredibles and Ratatouille. Both movies won the Oscars.
When asked whether Pixar tries to “find out what the customers want,” Bird explained his approach during an interview:
“My goal is to make a movie I want to see. If I do it sincerely enough and well enough—if I’m hard on myself and not completely off base, not completely different from the rest of humanity—other people will also get engaged and find the film entertaining.”
Marina’s feet were in the mud. She was trudging towards Russia’s border with her 11-year-old daughter.
Half a year earlier, Russia invaded Ukraine.
On March 14, 2022, Marina was, as usual, working in the newsroom for Russia’s most popular state-run news program. But this day was different. She was looking for an opportunity, an opening.
The guard on site was on her phone, distracted.
It was time.
When the broadcast went live, Marina burst into the set. She went behind the news anchor and held up a big sign. It said:
“No war. Stop the war. Don’t believe the propaganda. They are lying to you here.”
The camera cut away within six seconds.
Marina Ovsyannikova was born to a Russian mother and a Ukrainian father who died when she was a baby. She grew up in Chechnya, a Russian-speaking region with a history of seeking autonomy. Russian soldiers crushed the area in the 90s, so her family fled.
The war left a scar on her.
After college, Marina joined the state-run Channel One TV channel as a journalist in Moscow in 2002. Her job: cherry-pick broadcasts to make the West look bad. She was in the propaganda role for twenty years. It paid well and allowed her to raise two children in a safe, gated community.
However, something changed when Russia invaded Ukraine in March 2022.
As part of her job, she saw clips of villages destroyed by strikes. She watched Ukrainian refugees struggle to escape. It reminded Marina of her childhood.
If she continued the work as she had in the last two decades, her hands would be “covered with Ukrainian blood,” she said. “The war simply became a point of no return. It was no longer possible to keep quiet.”
After the extraordinary anti-war protest on TV, Marina faced days of interrogations by the FSB, Russia’s security service. She resigned from her job and paid a fine.
Many Ukrainians were skeptical of her protest, given her prior history as the state’s mouthpiece. Her 18-year-old son said she had ruined her family. Her ex-husband, who works for another state-run TV channel, attempted to take over the custody of their two children.
In July 2022, she protested again outside the Kremlin against the killing of children in Ukraine. This time, she faced a criminal offense with up to 15 years of prison.
Her lawyer urged her to escape while she was on house arrest.
With the help of organizations that support reporters and dissidents, Marina left Moscow on a Friday night in October 2022. She cut off her electronic monitor, changed car six times, and finished her journey on foot.
Marina is now in exile in France with her daughter Arisha.
This week I emailed a colleague with a simple, straightforward request. My message included context. She responded:
I don’t understand.
What do you need?
Her blunt reply surprised me. A few colorful ways of responding came to mind (“Did you read?” was one of them), but I was hungry and went to lunch. After I ate, I wrote:
Hi [colleague name], apologies for any confusion.
Then I followed with three bullet points stating the same things in the previous email. This time, she said:
On it. Thanks.
On March 17, 1959, Tenzin Gyatso had to make a choice.
By then, the Chinese Liberation Army had surrounded Lhasa, Tibet’s capital. Nine years of negotiation between Tibet and Communist China resulted in little prospect for peace.
A Chinese military officer invited Tenzin, then 23 years old, to a “dance show.” The officer demanded his bodyguards stay home.
The signs were clear: If Tenzin stayed in Tibet, the Chinese would arrest him. He would likely disappear from the face of the earth.
The only other option—escaping—was equally unthinkable. He would have to depart immediately, sneak past the Chinese military, and summit 19,000 feet up the Himalayas with little planning. Snowstorms, sandstorms, anything could happen.
Above all, what would be the fate of his country if he left? How about the lives of the millions who viewed him as the spiritual leader?
South African Archbishop Desmond Tutu asked The 14th Dalai Lama 56 years later, “You had to leave behind the country you love the most. Why are you not sad?”
The Dalai Lama, who had been in exile in India ever since, replied[1]:
We lost our own country and became refugees, but that same experience gave us new opportunities to see more things.
If you look from one angle, you feel, oh how bad, how sad.
But if you look from another angle at that same tragedy, that same event, you see that it gives me new opportunities.
Personally, I prefer the last five decades of refugee life. It’s more useful, more opportunity to learn, to experience life.
That’s the main reason that I’m not sad and morose.
There’s a Tibetan saying: ‘Wherever you have friends that’s your country, and wherever you receive love, that’s your home.’
[1] See this video (part of the Netflix documentary Mission: Joy). The interview between Desmond Tutu and The Dalai Lama was first transcribed in The Book of Joy, one of my favorite books.
One day, a young business executive made a long-distance call to a foreign colleague.
The executive said with intensity, “I am giving you instructions. I only have exactly three minutes. I will talk, and you will listen without interruptions.”
He went on to deliver his message. He spoke so rapidly that he finished a bit ahead of time.
“We have twenty seconds left. Any concerns?” the executive asked.
“Yes,” the man on the other line replied.
“What is it?”
“You spoke so fast. I didn’t understand a word!”
As a Chinese saying goes, “If you want speed, you don’t arrive.”
Anthony Trollope was a 19th-century English writer. Throughout his life, he published over sixty books and an impressive collection of letters and short stories. He did that on top of a full-time job at the postal services.
His childhood and young adulthood didn’t appear promising:
But things began to turn in 1841. Trollope transferred to Ireland for a new postal assignment. Around this time, Trollope explored becoming a writer.
Every morning Trollope would write for a couple of hours, in 15-minute increments, before heading to the post office. He aimed at 250 words every 15 minutes.
He kept this routine for decades. It made a difference.
—
When I first read Trollope’s story a couple of years ago, it inspired me to set small, effort-based goals.
I used to set multiple ambitious goals on a given day, like “finish an article” or “file taxes.” I would get frustrated at the end of the day when I couldn’t get even one thing done.
Now my goals are simpler: “write for 20 minutes” or “work on taxes for half an hour.” They are independent of the outcome. I find it easier to focus on the task at hand and get into the flow. Working on projects this way has become less stressful and more enjoyable.
Trollope’s method has also inspired me to go on short walks.
Every day I stroll around the neighborhood for 15 minutes. It has done wonders for my mental health. Sometimes Youali teases me and says, “You are back from the walk already? You just went out.” It’s lovely.
Born in the 1930s, Rosey Grier was a big guy at 6’5″ and 300 pounds. He was a professional football player for eleven years. After his NFL career, Rosey served as a bodyguard for his friend and former US Senator Robert Kennedy. When a gunman assassinated Kennedy in 1968, he was at the scene and helped subdue the attacker. He also sang and did radio talk shows.
While his career was fascinating, what intrigued me the most was his hobby.
Rosey loved needlepoint. It’s a form of embroidery where one stitches yarn through an open-weave canvas. This hobby calmed him and reduced his fear of flying.
However, his hobby was controversial. It didn’t conform to the muscular image of a big football player. His friends and other NFL players mocked him. He received harassing phone calls.
All this bothered Rosey, but he kept doing what he enjoyed. He managed to convert some of the football players who made fun of him to give needlepoint a try. He published a book called Rosey Grier’s Needlepoint for Men in 1973.
“Getting a little more interested? Read on, brother! Next, I’m going to tell you how to make your way around the needlepoint store,” he wrote in a book chapter.
A reviewer insightfully commented on Rosey’s book on Amazon:
“He looked at a hobby usually taken up by female dead in the eye and said, ‘Why not me?’”
This past week, I organized a drawer and came across a stack of old notes. It appeared I journaled for about three months in 2014 (before picking it up again six years later).
I was taken aback by what I privately wrote (in Chinese) on August 23, 2014:
A blank piece of paper.
Don’t know what to write.
No plans.
No goals.
I must write.
Translate my thoughts into ink.
I don’t need a glamorous life.
But I also don’t want a suffocating routine of only making money and paying bills.
I must leave here.
Life has to be more than this.
Many aspects of me have evolved in the last decade, but many have also remained.
You might have heard Silicon Valley Bank (SVB) failed this past week. I don’t usually write about news, but SVB’s collapse was quite a stunning story.
If I were to explain what happened in the simplest possible manner:
This story is a reminder that the tide can turn quickly. An established organization that looks formidable can crumble anytime.
This past week, I organized my room and came across a stack of old notes from a decade ago. It appeared I journaled for about three months before picking it up again six years later.
I was taken aback by what I privately wrote, in Chinese, on August 23, 2014:
A blank piece of paper.
Don’t know what to write.
No plans.
No goals.
I must write.
Translate my thoughts into ink.
I don’t need a glamorous life.
But I don’t want a suffocating routine of only making money and paying bills.
I must leave here.
Life has to be more than this.
Many aspects of me have changed in 9 years, but many have also remained.
In the last 20 years, I started many projects. I had a dozen blogs with less than ten posts. I had a podcast in 2006 with five episodes on computer-related topics. I lost count of how many journals I had bought.
These projects were nowhere to be found three months later (sometimes only two weeks).
Cantonese, my first language, has a lovely expression for someone like me: “having three-minute passions.”
While six months isn’t long, my weekly newsletter project is the most consistent creative pursuit I have ever done.
This time, I made a simple rule for myself: No matter what happens, the newsletter goes out on Friday at 6:30 am Pacific Time every week. No exceptions. Even if the week is a disaster. Even if doubt kicks in. Even if I cringe at my draft on Thursday night.
Let’s see if one change can break the patterns of two decades.
Writer Anne Lamott said in her TED Talk that while we have a biological age, we all are ageless inside.
I would further argue that regardless of when you were born, you are all the ages simultaneously.
Technology has advanced at an unbelievable pace over the last few decades. Life expectancy is higher. Food arrives at our doorstep with the click of a button. No one ever gets lost again (as long as there is the Internet).
But when it comes to the things that matter, our ability to control them hasn’t changed much. Whether you get sick. Whether it is sunny this weekend. Whether something you care about happens or not.
The same goes for life, aging, and death.
Technology remediates at best.
Have you ever pounded on the table and screamed:
“Why does this happen to me?”
Lamenting what holds you back is natural, but what if the constraints you face could be a source of strength?
Three remarkable individuals have transformed how I view challenges. Let me share their stories with you.
When Gillian was eight, she struggled with school. Her classmates found her noisy and disturbing. Homework was never on time. The teacher told her parents she had a learning disorder.
The school was concerned. They sent her to a specialist to assess whether she should attend a special school instead.
At the doctor’s office, Gillian grew restless and started to fidget. Twenty minutes into the session, the doctor told Gillian, “I need to speak to your mother privately. Wait here. We’ll be back.”
The doctor turned on the radio on his way out. He whispered to Gillian’s mother, “Just stand and watch her.”
Something unexpected happened the minute they left the room. Gillian was on her feet. She moved to the radio music with natural grace. Her face beamed with joy.
After watching for a few minutes, the doctor turned to her mother and said, “Mrs. Lynne, Gillian isn’t sick. She’s a dancer. Take her to a dance school.”
Her mother hesitated at first but gave it a try.
The dance school in London became Gillian’s new home. She discovered a community: people like her who couldn’t sit still and used movement to think.
She started with classical ballet and then moved on to jazz, tap, and ballroom. The young lady learned it all, practiced every day, and flourished.
At sixteen, she joined one of the foremost ballet companies in Great Britain. Her talent quickly caught the city’s attention. Before she knew it, she was performing Swan Lake and Sleeping Beauty all over the world.
After about a decade, her ballerina career slowly came to an end. Part of it was age, but mainly because she discovered a keen interest in choreography.
She started her own dancing company, even though the field was male-dominated. Female ballet choreographers were rare at the time. Despite her accomplishment as a dancer, many did not receive Gillian’s transition with a warm welcome.
It didn’t bother Gillian. She loved the art and was too busy breaking new ground. She innovated, took risks, and pushed boundaries.
The challenging sequences she created departed from traditional balletic movements. Her work delighted the audience and impressed respected composers like Andrew Lloyd Webber. Invitations to collaborate on large projects began to go her way.
Another decade later, she became responsible for some of the most successful musical theater productions in history on Broadway and beyond.
Her name is Gillian Lynne. Heard of Phantom of the Opera and Cats? She was the musical stager and choreographer behind it. She came a long way from being the problem child.
“I believe that every child is born with unique talents and gifts, and it’s up to us to help them find those talents and develop them.”
Gillian Lynne
Steve was devastated as he walked out of the doctor’s office.
Basketball was Steve’s calling. His talent was evident. He dribbled like a magician. He was an excellent shooter. He was even better at finding creative ways to pass.
He asked what the heck spondylolisthesis was.
The doctor explained that one of his vertebrae in the spine slipped out of place and onto the vertebra below it. This condition led to weakened muscles, which explained the tremendous pressure and pain in his back.
The doctor’s conclusion: he should not play professional basketball after college. One wrong twist could put him out of the game for weeks — possibly forever. The risk was too high.
The most brutal fact Steve didn’t want to hear: the condition was degenerative. It would worsen over time.
This threat, however, did not stop him. He didn’t believe that was the end of his career — it hadn’t even started.
One thing became clear to Steve: he must approach the sport differently.
He started to ask new questions: What should he do differently? How could he become stronger? What would it take to thrive in a game that favors physical strength — something he had less than everyone else?
The doctor and physical therapist prescribed a tailored regimen at his request. Steve religiously followed the plan: He trained his core with discipline. He stretched daily. He re-learned how to run, jump, and pass to avoid injury. Little by little, Steve worked out a system.
He knew he had to create space and minimize direct contact with others, so he mastered ball handling.
He surveyed the entire court at all times during a game. His priority was to create opportunities for his teammates. Only when uncontested did he finish a play with a graceful finger roll or a long three-pointer.
While on the bench, he rarely sat in a chair. Instead, he laid on his back on the floor. That helped reduce muscle stiffness and kept him in the game longer.
Steve had a long and successful basketball career despite getting injured quite often. Throughout his 18 seasons as an NBA player, he made over 9 out of every ten free throws across 1,300-plus games. His three-point percentage was 42.8% (about the same as Stephen Curry today). Most impressively, he contributed more than 10,000 assists. Only a few players have ever done that.
His name is Steve Nash. He is one of the best point guards in NBA history. That is not bad for someone who almost gave up basketball.
“I’m not the biggest, fastest, or most athletic guy, so I have to do all the little things to help me succeed.”
Steve Nash
Temple’s parents were alarmed.
They were expecting the two-year-old to be like her siblings. Something was off, however. There was no eye contact when they talked to her. Instead, Temple was busy flapping her hands. She repeated the exact phrases over and over. She sometimes spaned around in circles for hours until she got dizzy and could barely stand up.
The doctor’s diagnosis: brain damage. In the 1950s, that diagnosis meant they didn’t know what it was (she would have been diagnosed today with autism).
Temple’s parents went for another assessment when she was four. The doctor’s recommendation was dire: send her to a state mental institution. Eustacia, Temple’s mother, refused. It would be unbearable to lose her daughter forever, she said.
After hustling for options, Eustacia found a school meeting Temple’s needs. She also started Temple on speech therapy, which helped, but the success was mixed. Her classmates at school still ridiculed her for constantly repeating herself. They gave her a nickname: “tape recorder.”
Once at 14, Temple got angry and threw a book at a schoolmate. The school expelled her. Shortly after, her parents divorced.
Everything was falling apart.
After she got expelled, Temple spent the summer with her aunt. She discovered a deep sense of connection with the animals on the farm, who seemed to understand her better than the humans.
It was then that Temple spotted a funny-looking machine. It is known as a squeeze chute, which holds cattle tightly while they are examined, marked, or treated. Temple became fascinated. She wanted a similar machine to hug herself to feel safe and secure.
She started spending all her time reading books on machine design. As she did, her challenge in understanding text began to fade away. With the encouragement of a science teacher, she built a makeshift squeeze machine. It calmed her anxiety through her teenage years and young adulthood.
From that point on, Temple became engaged. Even though she was a slow reader, she graduated from college with a degree in psychology. She went on and pursued a master’s and doctorate in animal science.
Temple became a professor 30 years after she discovered her love for animals. In addition to advocating for animal rights, she pioneered humane and effective livestock-handling systems. Her designs helped reduce animal stress and injury. She spoke worldwide and raised awareness for autism and neurodiversity.
Her name is Temple Grandin. She is currently a faculty member at Colorado State University. In 2010, Time listed her as one of the 100 most influential people in the world. Her category: “Heroes.”
“I am different, not less.”
Temple Grandin
A British dancer and choreographer. A Canadian basketball player and coach. An American professor and animal advocate. Born in different parts of the 20th century.
These three inspiring individuals shared nothing in common on the surface, but an underlying thread connected them all: each was told there wasn’t a future. Their limitations were too overwhelming. Their control was too little.
None of them took the judgment as the final verdict.
What can we learn from them? I see five lessons.
We face constraints at any given point: money, time, health, skills, or opportunities. The limitations are real, but they are not the problem.
The real issue is that we get stuck. We assume there is only one way to overcome the obstacle in front of us. That’s false.
Steve Nash had limited physical strength. He couldn’t compete on power or height with the big guys in the league. He would be a fool to do so.
However, building bigger muscles wasn’t the only way to play the game. Once he realized that, he uncovered other possibilities. He used his instinct to move the ball around. When he needed rest, he rested. He made layups when no one paid attention and took shots from a safe distance.
A limitation tells you one thing: you can’t go forward this way. It also means another: you can explore all other viable possibilities.
You are liberated when you see and accept your limitations as they are. You don’t have to run away anymore. You can experiment with other ideas that will help you get unstuck.
Life is a paradox. When one door closes, another opens — but only you choose to see it.
Step back and ask: What are the other available paths?
It’s time to get creative.
“Why” is an irresistible question when something goes wrong.
Temple Grandin could have dwelled on why she was autistic and anti-social her entire life, but she didn’t (at least not all the time). Steve Nash could have done the same with his spine condition.
Asking why something happens can generate insights, but spending a lot of time on it rarely yields a better answer.
The truth is we all inherit a set of circumstances. Most things in life are out of our control. Some people don’t try very hard and have it easy. Others work incessantly and still struggle.
Comparison with others, however, is a dead end. What you will get is anger, frustration, and despair.
The point is not about other people. It’s about you. Of the things you can control, what do you choose to do? How will you exercise your freedom?
When you ask, “what now,” you become curious. You shift your focus from what you lack to what you have.
Given your set of constraints, what are your options? What assets do you have? How do your past challenges offer a unique perspective? How can you turn your pain into valuable lessons? What does your gut say?
These questions move you forward.
If the road ahead is unclear, you can approach it like a puzzle. Start with the answers you’re surest of and build from there. Don’t be afraid to guess. Don’t be afraid to move on from a solution that isn’t working out. If you are stuck, put it aside and return later. It’s your puzzle. Solve it any way you want.
Focus on what you can do now.
Gillian couldn’t have possibly planned her career. To her, dancing was captivating. The work itself was the reward. Opportunities emerged as she kept moving.
Even when others in the industry didn’t recognize her initially, she was too immersed in her work to worry.
When you do what you love, you become alive. Joy transforms your perspective. The energy is palpable and attractive. It’s life-giving.
You may say, “I don’t know what I like.” Then it’s time to discover. Take a class on something you don’t know. Explore art. Solve a new problem. Build, fix, or break something (you can do it gently). Make something useful or fun or both for someone you love.
You won’t like everything you try. Most will initially feel hard and unnatural, but some will leave an impression. Pay attention to those. If you worked through a difficult challenge but still want more of it, that’s a sign you are onto something.
You are off to a start if you are lucky enough to know what you love. Play with it. Dedicate time to the craft. Find inspiring work done by others.
Don’t build a grand plan. Just start. Get moving. Take small risks. Use your gifts. Follow what moves your heart.
Opportunities will emerge if you work on what makes you tick. I don’t know what they are. No one does. That’s for you to find out. Welcome to life!
Steve Nash couldn’t have played a competitive sport without medical advice. Temple Grandin couldn’t have become a professor, a speaker, and an activist without speech therapy from a professional.
We all want help, but we hate asking for it, even though intellectually, we know no one can survive on a lonely island. Nor do we have to.
As you embark on your journey, you will face roadblocks. If you look closely, though, help is usually close by, but only if you ask for it.
The universe works in a mysterious way. Help may come from a neighbor, a friend, or a colleague. It may be a conversation, a link to an article, or a passage from a book.
People are more eager to help than you think. They are waiting for you to take the first step. So ask, listen, and test the advice you get. If it doesn’t work, try another one.
For a long time, I refused to ask for help when I couldn’t find something in a store or something at home broke. It was such a simple thing, but asking for help seemed weak.
Now I do it: little to lose and much to gain. I highly recommend it!
(Conversely, share what you know if someone asks for help. It’s a small world. Things go around. You will receive more when you give.)
Gillian honed her Pointe work. Steve improved his physical conditioning. Temple practiced social skills. They did it every day, even if it was uncomfortable.
You can ask for advice, read books, and buy fancy tools. What matters most, however, is to do the work. This means to create, to act on the knowledge, and to keep trying despite the resistance.
If you are a scientist, head to the lab. If you are a designer, sketch. If you are a lawyer, prepare the best case for your client.
If you read a book, take notes. If you learn a language, speak it. If you sign up for a class, apply the learning in real life.
It can be scary to do the work. You enter into unknown territory. You don’t know what to expect. You also fear being exposed. What if people make fun of you? Will it fail? Will you look stupid?
Surely a few things may go wrong, but the better question is: Does walking your path matter more than staying put? Does the benefit outweigh the risk? Is the growth worth the price?
Every precious thing requires a leap of faith. It doesn’t mean we don’t fear. Instead, we go forward with the fear and be open to what’s to come. Every time we act, the path slowly reveals itself.
It starts with doing the work.
Next time you hear yourself saying, “If only I didn’t have this holding me back…”
Remember the lessons from Gillian, Steve, and Temple:
Keep at it. You got this.
A couple of years ago, I learned a strategy: inversion. It has helped me discover simpler solutions to tricky issues and avoid unnecessary work.
To invert is to turn a question upside down. Instead of attacking a problem with brute force, we work backward: what if we do the opposite? What if we avoid the obstacle altogether?
Some examples:
• You spend a lot of time on some report that no one cares about. Instead of doing it every month, is it possible to kill the busywork?
• A client is hard to work with and adds little value. Instead of stressing about their unreasonable demands, can we let the client go?
• A coupon is expiring, but I can’t think of anything I need. Instead of looking for something to buy, what if I throw the coupon away and move on?
The easiest move could be the best one.
Life is a paradox. For every amazing thing in the world, there is another just as disturbing.
The world is filled with unbelievable landscapes and deadly disasters; breathtaking sunsets and depressing winter nights; tree-lined shopping streets and heart-breaking encampments two blocks away (look no further than Berkeley or San Francisco).
It’s also home to anonymous donors and sleazy scammers; bold artists and Internet trolls; the Dalai Lama and Vladimir Putin.
Sometimes I can’t help but wonder: is this all the same world?
One strategy I use to offset the negativity that comes my way is to expose myself to the same amount of beauty.
Overwhelmed by catastrophes? I put the news away, go out for a walk, and look up to the sky.
A reckless driver cuts me off on the highway like he’s playing Mario Kart? I look for another driver who gestures to me to go ahead with a smile.
The guy at the pizza shop gives me an attitude for no apparent reason (and the pizza isn’t even that good)? I patron the noodle shop across the street where the owner beams with pride when he serves homemade broth and extra cilantro.
The point is not to ignore the negative, but to remind myself to see both sides of the paradox as it is.
In order to figure out what I need to do next, I must first stay sane. A balanced view of the world helps.
I recently reconnected with two friends. At the end of both conversations, I found ourselves saying, “We should connect more!”
Then I wonder: how much is optimal?
Interestingly, the conversations are enjoyable precisely because we don’t connect often. Every topic is fresh. All stories are intriguing. Questions flow.
If we meet up every day, it won’t be as enriching.
A relationship wilts if there is no contact. But too much time together risks staleness or even conflicts. Presence is essential, and so is absence.
Balancing closeness and distance is an art. It requires ongoing experimentation. What applies to me may not apply to you. What works today may not work tomorrow.
There’s no one-size-fits-all.
But if we get the balance right, the relationship thrives.
Every precious thing in life requires a leap of faith: to be vulnerable and to move forward without knowing what will happen.
If you have an enriching friendship or relationship: some time ago, you mustered courage and reached out at the risk of being ignored or rejected.
If you have a personal or professional opportunity to make an impact: at one point, you said yes when it was unclear what you had signed up for.
If you have created something you are proud of: you presented the work at the risk of ridicule.
If you have a skill or a hobby: you probably went through periods of frustration and felt unsure whether you would ever improve.
If you have gone on a memorable journey: the parts you likely remember the most are the people and the experiences that were never part of the plan.
If the above is true, we can conclude: embracing the unknown brings life. It’s in walking into the unknown that our path begins to reveal itself.
What stops us from proceeding is often the fear of getting hurt. What if people make fun of us? Will it fail?
Surely things can go wrong, but the better question is: does walking our path matter more than staying put? Does the benefit outweigh the risk? Is the growth worth the price?
All this is not to say that we must take undue risks or expose ourselves indiscriminately. That would be unwise and unnecessary.
Instead, take small risks first, listen to your heart, and course-correct as you go. Once you start moving, signs—words, people, opportunities—will emerge and guide you.
The path ahead will look nothing like what you have imagined, but it is uniquely yours.
I want to share with you a practice that has transformed my life. I have been doing it for more than two years. It makes me happier. It helps me make sense of a bad day. It gives me a sense of clarity.
This practice is a five-minute daily review. The method is inspired by an exercise called the examen, developed many centuries ago by St. Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits. I further simplified the practice and made it my own. Every morning, I answer three questions and note my answers in a journal.
The first step is to look back at the last 24 hours. Then ask: What are you grateful for right now? Doesn’t matter what it is. Note it. Some examples:
Gratitude is one of the most underrated superpowers. It shifts our focus from what we lack to what we have. Gratitude affirms that good things exist. We are free to enjoy them as they are given to us.
“If you’re grateful, you’re not fearful.” Benedictine monk David Steindl-Rast once said. Gratitude casts out fear. That makes it easier to experience joy with what we already have. It’s simple. It’s free. And it’s powerful.
The second step is to review the challenges in last 24 hours. What do you see in your day? Sometimes we go through a hectic crazy day without being aware of what happened. This step gives you space to observe.
Pay attention to what you did, how you felt, and what left an impression. What was difficult? What made you sad or angry? Did you feel tense, empty, or discouraged? If something didn’t go well, what could you have done differently?
The last step is a natural extension of your reflection. What are one or two things you will commit to doing (differently) today?
Did you feel grumpy working in front of the computer all day yesterday? Perhaps a short walk after lunch today will improve your mood. Did a comment yesterday hurt someone? Maybe you should say sorry. Did you waste too much on your phone? You can try leaving your phone in another room for a couple hours so you can focus the most important work.
You don’t need to come up a laundry list of complex, overhauling changes. One or two simple things are enough. The point is not to be hard on yourself, but to see the possibilities within your control. Think of this as making small tweaks in the system. You can get creative, experiment with a tiny change, and see if it works. Then resolve to doing it.
This three-step program—gratitude, reflection, and resolution—is not complicated. Yet it could be the best five minutes you spend on a given day. It allows you to make sense of what’s going in your life. It gives you a holistic perspective. At the end, you arrive at small actionable steps you can take.
There’s no success or failure in this exercise. You simply learn to see things as they are. You experiment and see what works. Every day you learn something new. Not from other people, but from yourself. You can’t find better, more relevant lessons from anywhere else.
Once you do this for a few weeks, the benefits will become even more obvious. Things that seemed like a big deal on a particular day will look trivial after a while. You will start to see patterns over a timeline. You will gain a better perspective of your life that no one else can offer you.
You will be surprised by how much you can learn from yourself.
Late one night, a policeman sees a man looking for something under a streetlight. The policeman asks the man what he’s looking for.
“My keys,” he says.
Both of them look under the streetlight together. After a while, the policeman asks the man if he is sure he has lost the keys near the streetlight.
“No, I lost them in the park,” the man replies.
The policeman asks, “Why are you looking for the keys here?”
“This is where the light is,” the man says.
An easy place to search, but not where he should be looking.
In 1928, Scottish physician and microbiologist Alexander Fleming went on a two-week vacation. He left a stack of Petri dishes for a bacteria study in his hospital lab in London.
When he returned, he realized the dishes were never placed in an incubator as intended. Mold grew. The dishes were ruined.
Amid the mess, however, he noticed something unusual. A particular kind of mold stopped the bacteria from spreading. He studied the mold further and ultimately discovered the first antibiotic: penicillin.
How would medicine have turned out differently if Fleming did not pay attention? He could have become angry and thrown the unsalvageable dishes straight into the trash.
But he chose to look. His mistake turned out to be a game-changer.
Space unlocks creativity. Once set up, it yields unlimited benefits. Space can be physical, digital, or spiritual. For example:
Invest in one early.
As Lunar New Year approaches this weekend, it dawns on me: I have lived almost half of my life in America.
In the early days, I lived as if I had never left home: spoke Cantonese all day, read Chinese books, and hung out with Chinese friends. When I started working, I hid my Chinese-ness in all possible ways because the identity seemed like a disadvantage.
Neither felt right.
I have since discovered a third option: embrace where I come from and where I am. This middle way frees me to be creative. Mix filial piety with open communication. Combine humility and fearlessness. Put my head down and speak up when it counts.
Why choose between A or B when A and B is possible?
Reframing is a powerful strategy I discovered a few years ago. It is a mental tool to step back from an initial belief and relook at it from another perspective for constructive insights.
Below is a list of reframing I went through over the years:
Original: It’s too late.
Reframed: It’s never too late.
Original: I have no freedom.
Reframed: What will I choose to do now?
Original: I wished I started a year ago.
Reframed: In twelve months, I will wish I started today.
Original: He angered me.
Reframed: I allowed myself to become angry.
Original: She didn’t listen.
Reframed: I didn’t listen.
Original: I’m not ready.
Reframed: I will never be ready, so let’s just go.
Original: I failed to achieve the plan.
Reframed: That plan was never meant to be.
Original: I’m not good at this.
Reframed: The only way to become better is to work on it.
Original: I will never recover.
Reframed: It always passes.
Original: I have to wake up.
Reframed: I get to wake up.
Original: It should have happened.
Reframed: Look at the story I tell myself.
Original: No one understands me.
Reframed: I understand myself.
Original: It’s too risky to do it.
Reframed: The cost of not doing it is too high.
Original: What do other people think?
Reframed: What does my gut say?
Original: I must accelerate.
Reframed: I must slow down.
Original: Does it make money?
Reframed: Do I love it?
Original: I can’t produce anything on a consistent basis.
Reframed: I need a system to support consistent work.
Original: I have no motivation.
Reframed: I must lower the barrier so I don’t need motivation.
Original: I don’t have the inspiration to start.
Reframed: I must start to get inspiration.
Original: I can’t draw.
Reframed: Start drawing.
Original: I can’t write a polished essay in one sitting.
Reframed: I can produce one interesting idea.
Original: I need to find one good idea.
Reframed: I need to collect a thousand ideas.
Original: This work sucks.
Reframed: The time for this work hasn’t come. Let it sit.
One interesting contrast between English and Cantonese speakers is the way they describe what they do.
English speakers tend to assert an identity: I’m a teacher. He’s a photographer. She is a great basketball player. Cantonese speakers prefer to state the verb: I teach (我教書). He likes to take photos (佢鍾意影相). She plays basketball really well (佢打籃球好勁).
The English way of thinking is powerful. An identity shapes your beliefs. If you believe you are a marathon runner, going on a long run is natural. The behavior is expected.
There is, however, one limitation: you can establish an empty identity and fail to follow through with any action. Painters that don’t paint. Artists that don’t create. Entrepreneurs that don’t start businesses.
The best strategy is to combine the two: state the identity and act.
Say “I’m a scientist” and head to the lab.
Say “I’m a chef” and fire up the stove.
Say “I’m a designer” and sketch.
Do both.
One time Confucius (孔子) was with his students. A student named Zi Lu (子路) asked if it was a good idea to immediately put a teaching into practice. Confucius urged him to wait and be patient.
Later Zan You (冉有), another student, went to Confucius with the same question. Confucius said, “You should practice it immediately.”
An observant third student noticed the contradiction. He asked Confucius to clarify. Confucius replied, “Zi Lu is impulsive, so I slowed him down. Zan You is cautious and tends to give up, so I pushed him.”
Every one is unique. Every situation is different. There’s no one-size-fits-all.
Before starting a creative project, the voice says: you need more prep! More research, more planning, more studying.
That voice is loud and obnoxious. Writer Steven Pressfield calls this voice the Resistance. It takes you on detours like getting a somewhat related certificate, envy other people’s achievement on LinkedIn, or worrying about where the money comes from.
No, no, no. These are the Devil’s plans: to wear you out, to overwhelm you, to lead you down frustrating dead ends. You don’t need that certificate (yet). You don’t need to spin your wheels on how others get to where they are. You don’t need to quit your full time job (yet).
What you need is to start. Do the actual thing. What are they? Poets write. Chefs cook. Comedians tell jokes. Designers design. Painters paint. Artists create. Make stuff. Share your work. That’s what you need to do.
You are ready. Let’s go.
Florence Nightingale founded modern nursing. In the mid-1800s, she drastically improved hygiene standard and reduced the death rate in hospitals.
But before that, Nightingale was torn by the idea of leaving her comfortable home for service. In fact, it took her almost 16 years to respond to what she later referred to as “the call.” Healthcare work was dangerous back then. Unsurprisingly, her wealthy family disapproved.
While wrestling with her call, Nightingale once asked Gridley Howe, a physician:
“Do you think it would be unsuitable and unbecoming for a young Englishwoman to devote herself to works of charity in hospitals?”
Dr. Howe responded:
“It would be unusual, and in England whatever is unusual is thought to be unsuitable. But I say to you “go forward,” if you have a vocation for that way of life, act up to your inspiration and you will find there is never anything unbecoming or unladylike in doing your duty for the good of others. Choose, go on with it, wherever it may lead you.”
Brad Bird is a film director, animator, and producer at Pixar. He led the production of two major computer-animated films: The Incredibles and Ratatouille. Both movies won the Oscars.
When asked whether Pixar tries to “find out what the customers want,” Bird explained his approach during an interview:
“My goal is to make a movie I want to see. If I do it sincerely enough and well enough—if I’m hard on myself and not completely off base, not completely different from the rest of humanity—other people will also get engaged and find the film entertaining.”
Read more: Innovation lessons from Pixar (An interview with Brad Bird)
Jesuit priest Anthony De Mello on cultivating work you love:
“You must cultivate activities that you love. You must discover work that you do, not for its utility, but for itself.
Source: The Way to Love
How many activities can you count in your life that you engage in simply because they delight you and grip your soul? Find them out, cultivate them, for they are your passport to freedom and love.”
Author Steven Pressfield on fear:
“Remember our rule of thumb: The more scared we are of a work or calling, the more sure we can be that we have to do it.”
Source: The War of Art
The best task management system I have used so far:
Discard the list at the end of the day. Start again the next morning.
*I usually use a post-it note or my journal. I have experimented with many productivity systems in the last 15 years. They are all too complex. Keep it simple.
If a project feels difficult, break it down into smaller components. Start with the easiest one. Gain momentum. Focus on one thing at a time. For example:
As Henry Ford said, “nothing is particularly hard if you break it down into small jobs.”
*My wife, who wrote a lot in her younger days as an eng. lit. major in college, advised me to separate ideation, drafting and editing more than five years ago. I never listened. I kept trying to perfect each sentence as I wrote. My output was dismal. Somehow I couldn’t figure out why.
In recent months I have come around and agree that she is right after all. Sometimes ideas just take time to sink in, right?
Doesn’t matter what it is, how insignificant it appears, or whether anyone notices.
Take the long way home. Learn a new word. Do the exercises at the end of the chapter. Review old photos. Find a better way to solve the same problem.
If we do that daily, we will have experimented over 360 small ideas a year from now. Many will be duds, but we will find at least a dozen gems in between.
Above all, our mental muscles will grow stronger. Facing the next unknown will become just a bit less scary.
Key to building a new habit: start small. How small exactly? Try one.
Make it absurdly easy. Then do it every day at around the same time*. Resist the temptation to ramp up quickly. Keep it nice and steady instead.
If you miss a day, no worries. Pick it back up where you left off. You will see progress within weeks.
*Tips: Putting an “X” on a calendar every time you do the habit will help visualize progress. It’s also a good idea to focus on only one habit a time.
Inspired by: Atomic Habits and Tiny Habits
I took time off and disconnected from work email over the holidays. On the first day back, I noticed a familiar reaction before opening the inbox: sweaty palms. My mind raced. My stomach tightened.
Anxiety is anticipating failure in advance. “Did something blow up? What went wrong? What did I miss?”
Intellectually, I knew probably nothing happened. And if something did happen, I knew I could face the issue, break it down, and handle it.
Anxiety still arose nonetheless.
I returned to a practice I’ve been working on: observe the emotion, watch it evolve, and get curious. What if I write about it? When revealed, it has nowhere to hide. It loses its grip. It melts away.
We often think about what to add.
What new things are necessary? What is missing in the plan? What other goals should be on the list?
But equally, if not more, important is what to subtract.
What goals must I remove? What stuff has cluttered the space? What bad habits must I shed? What unhelpful assumptions must I leave behind? What resentment must I let go?
When we remove the baggage that no longer serves us, we make room for what’s important.
Most of the plans I made last year did not pan out as expected.
Does that mean that planning is a waste of time? Not at all. Had I not planned, I would have been far more distracted.
I like how President Dwight Eisenhower put it, “Plans are useless but planning is indispensable.”
Throwing the plan out of the window should be part of the plan.
The items most accessible in our environment often determine what we do in a given moment.
If there are potato chips on the counter, I will likely eat them. If the phone is my pocket, I will likely check it. If the TV is on, I will likely watch it.
We can exploit this by making the important things easier to access. For example, put fruits and vegetables in a visible location to eat healthier. Carry the book you want to read. Lay out supplies on the desk to encourage more creative work.
Conversely, we can increase the barrier for the things we want less of. For example, charge electronic devices in another room. Remove an overused app from the homepage. Hide the chocolate chip cookies behind the cabbage.
Changing the environment alone doesn’t determine whether we do something or not, but it has a huge influence.
When we start a new project or develop a new habit, it is tempting to go big right away: read an entire book, run three miles, or play an instrument for five hours.
But by doing too much at the beginning we risk burning ourselves out. I can’t tell you how many times I quit an endeavor within a week.
Another option is to start small. Do a little on the first day. Make it easy. Read one page. Walk half a mile. Practice one chord. Then ramp up slowly.
Never underestimate the power of a small step. Going from zero to one is already an achievement.
Labels, when abused, are licenses to be desensitized. When labels are all we use, we stop understanding. We reduce someone people to a single phrase.
“Mary is an engineer.” What if she quits tomorrow? Does that fundamentally change who Mary is?
“Tony is wealthy.” We see mansions, fancy cars, and lavish parties. How about his hopes, his struggles, and his love?
“Jimmy is Chinese.” What does being “Chinese” represent? Bruce Lee? Kung Pao chicken? Good at math? Eats bats? Can’t write English? I am none of the above*.
If we believe in a label, it becomes a fixed lens we use to filter the world. In many cases, facts no longer matter. Existing assumptions prevail. Disapproving information, even right in front of us, changes nothing.
As Søren Kierkegaard said, “Once you label me you negate me.”
* I do enjoy Panda Express once in a while
Christmas is often associated with comfort: beautiful gifts, candle-lit dinners, and celebrating with loved ones. All of which are wonderful.
One interesting contrast is how the festivities compare to Jesus’ life story:
He was born in a manger. His bed was made of hay. Not even a one-star hotel. Didn’t smell great with donkeys around.
He spent days in solitude in the wild. Cold and hungry. The devil tempted him with food. He said no.
He traveled long distances on foot. He stayed with whoever would receive him. Couch surfing, basically.
He attended to the sick and shared meals with the marginalized. Not much time with friends and family.
He challenged the authority. Those in power hated him. They hung him on a cross.
He understood discomfort is a rite of passage to something greater.
The seasonal Christmas lights remind me of Thomas Edison.
After experimenting with thousands of filaments, he discovered a material that would glow well and last a long time for an electric light bulb. His effort literally lit up the world.
Was he a genius? Certainly. But more importantly, he did a lot of work.
I wonder how many dark moments he endured along the way.
*Note: Contrary to common misconception, Edison did not invent the light bulb. He built on inventions done by many scientists before him. However, Edison did advance light bulb design and contributed to the commercial success of electric lighting.
When I was a kid, I practiced karate for a few years. I focused on kata, basically a choreography of martial arts movements. Like most Japanese art forms, precision, control, and accuracy are key to a great kata performance.
One year I participated in a kata competition. My body was tense that day. The moves were not smooth. I lost balance on one of the turns. The punches and kicks lacked measured strength.
I came in second. I was devastated.
“If you are number one, you may not have won. But if you are number two, you have for sure lost.” I said, in tears, as my mom came to comfort me.
My mom then kindly said, “Isn’t it good to lose sometimes? Others get to feel happy. And you get to learn what you need to work on next time.”