We're breaking records left and right, my friends. Unfortunately, the particular record I'm referring to here is the average surface temperature of our (currently) beautiful green Earth. Now, maybe this streak ends up as a fluke in the grand timeline of Earth's history, but I'm not convinced riding this out and leaving our future up to chance is worth the risk.

I'll be the first to admit that taking environmentally-conscious action can be daunting, and we've long been told to focus on sustainability. Where do we begin? What do we actually do? Will it even make a difference (spoiler: it will)?

I think we've been aiming at the wrong target - a well-intentioned one, but the wrong one nonetheless. Environmental responsibility goes beyond sustainable and environmentally-friendly practices—it requires us to embrace the role of environmental stewards. As stewards, we don't just do sustainable things; we become guardians of our planet, taking personal responsibility for its care. This shift from sustainability to stewardship isn't just semantic—it's a fundamental change in how we view our relationship with the Earth and our role in its preservation.

One of the primary distinctions between a focus on sustainability and stewardship is that of doing versus being. I looked up the Merriam-Webster dictionary of stewardship and this is what I found: "the careful and responsible management of something entrusted to one's care."

Sustainable practices are something we can and should do, being a steward becomes a part of who we are.

The power of a stewardship mindset comes down to responsibility. When we view ourselves as stewards of our Earth and environment, we view ourselves as personally responsible for its care. Sustainable practices are a common byproduct.

Without a stewardship mindset, we may only ever consider more sustainable options if they are convenient or easy. These practices end up viewed as nice-to-haves versus critical actions. Stewards see things through because they are the right thing to do.

And, I want to highlight that having a stewardship mindset is no less concrete than the sustainable practices someone engages in and I think the distinction, at risk of overusing the word here, is sustainability itself. Or maybe a better word choice here is durability or resilience.

Do you continue to engage in these practices even when it's difficult? How consistent are you over time? In many ways, stewardship vs. sustainable practices isn't an either/or argument, rather one of depth and duration.

When we pair a global awareness with local action, and have an appreciation for the interconnected nature of all things, we all but eliminate the risk of overlooking broader environmental challenges when we focus our energy on local impact. A healthier local environment and community is almost always going to be a net positive. for the surrounding communities and beyond.

One thing to look out for is short-sighted solutions. An exaggerated example is cleaning up litter in your city or town and then dumping it on the side of the road in neighboring towns. Obviously, this solves nothing and we've all but undone the positive impact. We've solved nothing, rather we've merely put the problem at arm's length. That's not what we're after here.

This is where something like Second-Order Thinking (Farnam Street has a great 3-minute read on the subject: https://fs.blog/second-order-thinking/). This looks like us asking "and then what" to help better understand the reach and consequences of our actions and will help prevent us from becoming too narrow in our focus.

It's a valiant stance to want to change the world. But, it's also quite daunting. Only a massive ego could avoid feeling a bit overwhelmed by the notion. When we look at things on a global scale, it's easy to experience a mix of analysis paralysis and apathy - both leading to inaction.

Because there's so much we could do, the overwhelm creeps in and we do nothing. Or, that feeling of insignificance creeps in and we can't help but think, "Why bother? I'm just a drop in a very big bucket. What I'm doing doesn't matter." It DOES matter, but I appreciate why it doesn't feel like that. It's easy to feel insignificant when we zoom out on our Earth and see ourselves for the specks that we are, and in many ways we are insignificant (I'll talk about why this is a good thing another day). But, it's foolish to think our actions don't matter at all, that what we do over time doesn't impact or influence the world around us.

One of the only ways to overcome that is to adjust the scope and scale. We may be insignificant on a global scale, but we're often quite significant on a local scale. What we do directly impacts our friends, family, and community Here are a couple examples. There's not much any one of us can do to make a significant dent in the pollution problem facing our oceans besides maybe donating some money to the organizations working to solve that. Even then, it's difficult to know exactly the impact your contribution made. But, you can make a massive impact by helping clean up the parks your kids play at or the beaches your family visits. Even cleaning up the sides of the roads you travel regularly will have an immediate impact - less trash and pollution and a more beautiful road to travel.

Another example is simply consuming less. It's difficult to think forward to the end of the life of whatever it is that you bought and consider how purchasing less of that impacts what's being sent to landfills. It's far less difficult to see the impact on your bank account.

It's ok to be a little selfish here when we're talking about stewardship and sustainable practices, even though it really isn't being selfish at all. It's only selfish if there isn't any mutual benefit for all parties involved. In the first example, your surroundings are cleaner and the Earth is a wee bit less polluted. In the second example, you're saving a couple shekels and fewer things are inevitably ending up in the trash. There's this misconception that stewardship requires selflessness and sure, there are plenty of instances when that's true. For the most part though, there will typically be an opportunity for a mutually beneficial exchange.

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The path to true environmental responsibility isn't just about what we do—it's about who we become. This shift in mindset—from sustainability to stewardship—empowers us to take consistent, meaningful local action, creating the potential for global impact. What you do and who you are matters. You can make a difference. Will you?

Cover Photo by Noah Buscher on Unsplash

A few months ago, the generous YouTube algorithm suggested a sermon by Francis Chan around the teachings of Thessalonians 4:10-12:

"And in fact, you do love all of God’s family throughout Macedonia. Yet we urge you, brothers and sisters, to do so more and more, and to make it your ambition to lead a quiet life: You should mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you, so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and so that you will not be dependent on anybody."

Then by chance, a comment on this post led me to John Mark Comer's "The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry" (which has an epilogue featuring the Thessalonians verse above) that is based on Matthew 11:28-30:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

The thesis of the book suggests it's not just the teachings of Jesus worth emulating but also how Jesus lived his life. Prior to that, I read Cal Newport's "Digital Minimalism" and then started Jenny Odell's "How To Do Nothing" before shifting to Newport's newest "Slow Productivity"

Similar messages from a Pastor, former Pastor, a Computer Science Professor and Author, and an Artist/Educator/Author. Oh, and two of Jesus of Nazareth's Apostles - can't quote them and not mention them. While there are some similarities between Chan and Comer, Newport and Odell, these are all very different people with different experiences all rallying against the current cultural trajectory.

All of these related messages and perspectives helped me begin to understand what my soul had been craving: a pull toward a different pace. A calmer, quieter pace. A pace that cultivates joy and peace, not output and productivity.

I think this pull is the result of my changing relationship with work. I'm learning that it's a very American thing, particularly an Northern / East Coast American thing to wrap much of our identity into our profession. It's been a long, tedious process but I'm finally separating who I am and what I do. I spent the first decade of my professional life unable to do that, leading to a state of never feeling like I was Kenough. The result? The exact opposite experience of what I opened with: a rushed, frantic pace that cultivated stress and anxiety.

Pace. Purpose. Meaning. Thoughtfulness. Intention. Those five words keep circling around my head. "Hurry" is incompatible with each and every one. Something of meaning cannot be hurried. A purpose cannot be rushed. Thoughtfulness requires time and space, as does intention. In all of this, the notion of "take your time" has stood out as a signal among the noise. Obviously, this isn't a new or revolutionary saying. I asked ChatGPT for help tracing its origin:

"The phrase "take your time" has its origins in English and has been used for centuries. It's a simple expression that encourages someone to proceed at their own pace, without rushing or feeling pressured. The exact origin is difficult to pinpoint, as it likely emerged organically over time through everyday language usage. The sentiment behind it is universal, acknowledging that rushing through something may lead to mistakes or overlooking important details while taking one's time allows for thoroughness and careful consideration. Over time, it has become a common and polite way to encourage patience and deliberation in various situations."

• Pace.

• Without rushing or feeling pressured.

• Rushing leads to mistakes, to overlooking.

• Thoroughness, care, consideration.

• Patience and deliberation.

"Has been used for centuries." Have we always felt this hurried? I suspect we have. I mean, Lao Tzu is attributed to saying "Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished." Seems like unnecessary commentary if the world around was calm and collected. And this is going back a couple millennia.

So yeah, there's little new or novel here. But like many things, we need a reminder from time to time - something to help us realign to that which our hearts and our souls crave, not what the world suggests that we should. There's something both reassuring and discouraging about knowing many generations before us struggled with this all the same: discouraging because clearly we as a species have done little to remedy the frantic pace of our lives but reassuring me writing this and you reading this means we're alive and well today so clearly something is working in our favor.

Hurrying is an act of powerlessness, an indicator we do not feel in control of our time. When we take our time, we're in control. We're the ones setting the pace. We're choosing the what, when, and how much.

Cover Photo by Chris Thompson on Unsplash

When I sit down to write, sometimes it just isn't there. Today is one of those days. I'm tired, having had to tend to my darling first-born who woke to a bad dream in the wee hours of the morning and sought out her dad to help her back to sleep. I'm trying to finish up a different article, in this case the ending, but I cannot seem to make it happen.

Maybe the title of this article is misleading. It's not that I don't want to do the thing today, it's that it's a bit of a struggle to do so. Regardless, my recommendation stands: Do something, anything.

I took a crack at the unfinished article with little success. Instead of packing it in right there, I'm writing this one. It won't be a particularly lengthy article, but it's something.

Doing something, anything, is all about momentum. Whether it's keeping the momentum we already have or building a little in our favor, doing something is typically the simplest solution. It's a step in the right direction. It might be a small, seemingly insignificant step, but it's a step nonetheless.

What's important to me right now is writing. When something is good enough, it'll get published. Someday I'd like to publish on a regular cadence but that's not yet the priority. As long as I'm writing something, I'm good.

And that, like this article, is good enough for me.

Cover Photo by Lindsay Henwood on Unsplash

Our perspective is the lens through which we view our world. It's the filter that largely determines how we interpret the events that take place in our lives.

Often, our greatest challenges are our greatest opportunities. To see that, we simply need to change our perspective.

A couple years ago, I read Jason Goldberg's book about stepping into Self-Leadership. I love it because it's a modern take on the understanding that we may not always be able to choose what happens in our lives, but we can always choose how we show up and respond.

What if instead of saying, "I have a problem," we instead began saying, "I have a project"?

This is a telltale sign of stepping into Self-Leadership, the key tenant of JG's book.

Seriously, what "problems" do you have in your life?

Are you struggling to lose weight?

Are you struggling in your career?

Are you struggling with your finances?

Are you struggling in your relationships?

Great. Now, just like weekend plans to visit The Home Depot (maybe Bed Bath and Beyond but I know, I know, you're not sure there will be enough time) to carry out your home projects, you now have some life projects to work on as well.

How does this shift make you feel? For me, I instantly feel lighter. Problems are heavy. Projects are fun and exciting. They shift our dialogue from "I can't" to "how can I and what do I need to do this?"

When we speak in statements, there's not much room for negotiation, even when it's with ourselves. But when we start asking questions, good questions, we start finding answers. And lots of them.

You see, our life is what we make it. If this sounds cliche, it's because it is. And you know why it's cliche? Because we say this over and over and over and yet, we do nothing about it.

Once we're able to shift our perspective, we must then ACT on this shift. Plans are great, but action is everything.

So use your newfound perspective to your advantage. If you have some projects on your hands, it's time to get to work. But don't forget to have a little fun along the way.

Cover Photo by Anika Huizinga on Unsplash

I recently started learning a bit about Web Development, think HTML, CSS, Javascript, and Python. I want to build things on and for the internet with as much sovereignty and ownership from (centralized companies/entities) as possible.

And you know what, it's probably all a distraction.

Learning Web Development isn't a bad thing. It's a great thing. Being able to bring ideas to life in any capacity is a net positive. But, like my dad often says, there's a time and a place for everything. If it's neither the time nor the place, then it's probably a distraction.

Why do we distract ourselves, whether intentionally or unconsciously? Like most things, there are plenty of (potential) reasons or explanations. I'm going to focus on one common one: avoiding discomfort.

I'm likely not writing as much as I could or should because I'm not nearly as good as I used to be. I'm a bit out of practice. I haven't written and published consistently in about three years. It all feels a lot more difficult when before it didn't take much to get into a flow. Writing has become uncomfortable.

I often struggle with writing topics. What I do write rarely feels very good. Editing takes me a lot longer than it used to.

Because it's uncomfortable, I avoid it.

"I'll just journal for a few, instead"

"Let's check out a couple of articles for some 'inspiration.'"

"Aw shucks, I need more coffee."

And yet, the only way to overcome this pesky discomfort is through it. The answer to my writing problem is writing.

I'd guess you've found yourself in similar situations before, the thing you know you need to do ends up being the thing you most avoid. In my time as a coach, I found health and fitness was (and still is) that thing for A LOT of people. For others, it might be starting a new hobby or making new friends.

Whatever it is, the sooner we acknowledge the obstacle is the way, the better. The only path forward is through.

Here's what I'm working on to work through this. When I write, the words flow through me so, I envision a set of pipes. These pipes, because of years left unused, are filled with muck. For the "good" stuff to flow through again, I need to clear out the muck. The only way to get to "good" writing is to clear out the "bad" writing.

Even practiced writers acknowledge needing to do this each time they sit to write. It takes a bit for things to start flowing, similar to how it sometimes takes a bit for water from the faucet to warm. Now, imagine having three years of stagnation to work through.

I'm going what I can to "embrace the suck." I'm fine with that, despite my best efforts, this article isn't likely to be very good. The next probably won't be either. But, I'm going to publish them anyway. I know writers are supposed to write for the readers but these are for me. And heck, there's a good chance I am the only reader and I'm ok with that.

Each article I publish, no matter the objective or subjective quality, is progress in its own right. Each time I prevent distraction and discomfort from winning out the day is a win for me. And if my own history is any indication, the more I do this and the longer I do it, the better it should get.

Cover Image Photo by Galen Crout on Unsplash