When we choose to punctuate our lives with new moments time slows down. There's certainly something to be said for feeling at home, but for now I'm enjoying the generosity of my friends and quiet mornings in new places. I wonder where I'll sleep tonight. 

Our real calling then is not to mark the passage of time with a wish we’ll morph into who we’re supposed to be, but to rest in the quiet knowing of who we already are. Who we’ve always been

Maybe that’s what cautious parents do when they love their kids - they introduce them to people who can tell the stories they can't themselves. It wasn’t going to be Craig who would tell his boys about the world and how to cautiously let it in, but it could be me. 

One thing I've learned about living through pain is that sometimes you can give yourself the gift of seeing just two or three seconds beyond where you are now. 

It's easy to believe the whole world is against you. It's much more difficult to live in the blind confidence that the world belongs to people who trust in the magic of love and connection. Flowers open up around their ankles. Sun perpetually shines on their eyelids. 

What important work it is to help others see things they've never seen before. What a beautiful opportunity it is to guide people to new ways of understanding. 

Do you ever have trouble sleeping on Sunday nights? Your heart is pounding and you’re worried about all the things you have to do. Have you ever imagined there is a private meeting in a secret conference room where your colleagues talk about whether or not you’re fulfilling your potential? 

Going home means finding an anchor in your identity. Home means remembering formative experiences and relationships and recognizing their influence. That’s a powerful thing. That’s perhaps the only reason we’re here: to belong and to help others feel like they belong.

When we invite others in, we remind one another that we can't do life alone. We cut the crap and realize that we're more alike than we think we are. We can always learn something from moments of forced humility.

Participating is difficult and inconvenient. Despite our knowledge that the formula works, we're still hesitant. We retreat into ourselves, we decide to be comfortable. If we're to become who we want to become, we must begin acting that way and the mindset will follow. The confidence will follow. 

I think it’s small moments of discipline that get us through challenges. In movies, these moments are collected in montages because they can sometimes be boring or kind of regular unless there’s a sweet song playing. It takes consistent hard work to be an extraordinary person. It means you have to trust the process and show up each day.

We learned to accept Don, so that means we can accept us. Despite all of the terrible things Don did, we wanted him to find peace - so that means we can find peace.

The synthesizer can talk about what's happening. They have the ability to stand back, be silent, and see trends. They weave themes together. Do you have a synthesizer on your team?

Invite others to tell you what matters most to them, invite them to tell you who they are. Because when we invite people to tell stories, we give them the chance to reveal what it is they hope for, what they're afraid of and what they really want. 

If I ever have child (a boy I hope), I’ll tell him that if I did life again, I might have smelled the inside of my post office box.

Sometimes people notice me out on the porch and sometimes they keep walking. And maybe they notice me but they pretend they don’t – because I know I feel some ownership over this street and I know they must feel some right to park on it. So we’re cautious in our knowing and unknowing of the other people who pass along down the road.

I wonder when such an early morning hour became a time to wake up instead of the last moment when things could happen. I wonder why I believe that a good day is measured by things going according to plan and why we’ve started to find comfort in predicting tomorrow and why we applaud ourselves when we choose to not stay up late anymore because that’s an adult thing to do.

At this hour – still – there is something worth coming back to. It’s different everywhere, but the soft feeling is the same. At this hour, here, today, the motorcycle across the street catches light; the air smells like it’s been filtered through leaves.

I’ve always been interested in the difference between regular teachers and extraordinary teachers. Beyond all of the external pressures that teachers face – in addition to a regular life they’re trying to live – they consistently prioritize the things that matter over the things that are measured.

But there comes a time (say, one year with no sofa) when one realizes that the idea of something is never going to equal the arrival of something or the remaining of something. It can’t. We play this trick on ourselves and create these pressures and don’t allow life to flow up against us because we’re too busy trying to channel life into what we want it to be.