You have something to offer no one else has.
Your choice is whether or not to share it with others.
You have a unique twist, a special tint coloring your work and the way you see the world.
Find people and environments that encourage this.
A dinner party could change everything.

You have something to offer no one else has.
Your choice is whether or not to share it with others.
You have a unique twist, a special tint coloring your work and the way you see the world.
Find people and environments that encourage this.
You’re not going to get it back.
Think about that when considering the value of your time.
I’m taking something precious from you as you read this.
Now think about the people you’re choosing to spend your time with.
Would anything change if you honored how much each second is really worth?
I’m often asked how I made the transition from social work to social curation. If I’m honest, I never dreamed of having my own business or running my own show. In fact, for a very long time, I was looking for the perfect job, desperately trying to figure out how to craft the perfect cover letter to land the interview that would set me on a fulfilling and profitable career path.
I wish I could say I woke up one morning and realized this dream job was something I could actually create.
It started slowly, with an idea, and — drip by drip! — grew from experimentation to action.
You, too, can start small. You don’t need to have a finished product on the table before you decide to go. Simply identify what’s important to you, acknowledge your skills, and begin to make choices that excite you.
You don’t have to figure it all out today.
The things that really mean something take time.
It’s no wonder we consider work very separate from play. It’s hounded into our heads since we’re able to talk.
We watch Dad grimace as he races to work, and Mom moan about never having enough time (and she doesn’t look like she’s having fun). We’re given hours to learn, write, read, and make things. We have separate hours to talk, move, go outside, discover, and mess around. Recess becomes our gold.
Once the school bell rings freedom, homework hours stand between us and our reward: time to play and make mischief. We quickly learn that good behavior and productivity yields more play time. Decisions are easy.
Then we’re told to find jobs. Quite naturally, we look for ones that bestow upon us the right to play. We look for more money, more time, more vacation hours to do the things we really want to do.
“Work” becomes the vehicle through which play is possible, our income, our sacrifice. Worse yet, boredom. “Play” stands for our hobbies, our leisure, our rest.
Darlene Cohen, author of The One Who Is Not Busy, spells it out:
“We describe our activity as either ‘busy’ or ‘not busy,’ either productively working or taking a blissful break from working. But actually it is possible to experience both ‘busy’ and ‘not busy’ simultaneously, to reach beyond the labels and connect with our work in a way that is deeply satisfying. What this requires is that we develop the breadth of vision and the mental flexibility to be both busy and not busy at the very same time.”
Is it possible to shift our perceptions and redefine what’s work and what’s play?
Can you turn one into the other and find joy in each?
“Everyone’s done it this way” it isn’t a good enough reason.
How can you insert a question mark into what’s come before?
Is there something you’ve followed without thinking? Is there a procedure you could better?
Can you turn good enough into best?
Buck often.