The seeds will only grow if you plant them.

Those of us in the northern hemisphere are shifting out of winter into spring - whether we’re ready or not. It’s a moment to release winter’s fur coat and greet the rays of light, to take the vitamin D and make something rich.

We can start to pivot from planning to planting. We can plant seeds, holding the potential energy of life. Kinetic energy gets tons of attention, but potential energy is still energy, still potential. Like buds on a tree, something is waiting to bloom. What is it? 

The need to start – or even name what to start – carries the weight of choosing something hard, yet the weight evaporates when we opt to just… start, without perfection in mind. 

We can lower the bar to starting by taking away any expectations of what the first attempt looks like. Few seeds are beautiful as we place them on the Earth, and they bear no resemblance to what will grow. First attempts are often messy (hello, rough drafts!); they’re also sometimes golden; and they’re always a step forward from not starting at all. The inimitable writer-on-writing Anne Lamott calls this a “shitty first draft.” Let the first draft be ugly. Give yourself permission to make the start rough, and then to keep going. 

The first idea doesn’t have to be the best idea. Rather, what if you’re allowed to make it the worst possible first idea?

If you had a blank page, a napkin, an imperfect surface begging for your worst best idea, what would be the first stroke?

I have a napkin from Southwest Airlines (whose business idea was actually born on a napkin): “The best ideas are born on napkins. What’s yours?” 

The vicious cycle of needing to simultaneously name the first idea and the best idea is that the pressure of being the “best” often prevents us from even trying the “first,” the next, or simply… something… an idea. When we insist the first idea be the best idea, we often end up with no idea at all.

Take your worst version of your idea. Sketch it out. And then what? Keep going… this is where “and what else?” becomes one of our richest questions. When we think we’ve found the answer, when we’re all set and ready to stop, that feeling is the signal to go deeper. Sure, 30 seconds of stretching feels nice; why stop? When you’ve overcome the hesitation to start, recognize what “I’m onto something” feels like, and don’t quit.

As you plant the seed, dig around a bit. Don’t put down your pen until the first draft is done. 

Once you have your seed sprouting, let the young ideas mature where vulnerability is safe. It’s just a draft, still full of potential. Keep it close to you. Let your best worst ideas see the light of day, but trust only the right people to see them. Meanwhile, water them, nurture them. Grow them from seeds to sprouts and saplings that can stand the test of wind and rain… then let them go and let them grow.

You beg me: but what if I’m not ready, Stephen?

Now, I’m a big fan of “take your time,” but also, it lives in tension with rarely defining what “ready” looks like. I know the comfort of “I’ll be ready when…” My own waiting for spring’s “permission” to invite you into a shared practice of starting is perhaps a shining example. Y’all… I’ve thought about building a whole website, sending you seed packets, stickers, and badges to welcome you into the April Fools Club. Look at me raising the bar instead of just… starting. If you're equally not ready to start something — imperfectly, together — consider yourself in. This is your welcome email.

And I've seen it in my clients, too. One recently thought that he would be ready to apply for jobs once his German improved. In the end, we found opportunities that would both use his existing strengths and skills and support him to learn German. We could’ve invented excuses all day long. Instead, we started.

The best opportunity to write a first draft, to sketch a prototype, or to plant a seed is yesterday. The second best opportunity is now. Start where you are. Start with what you have, without what you don’t have, without what you might need later. 

Chances are as ready as we are for spring to come, for permission to start whatever is waiting, we’re also not ready. We’ll never be “ready.”

Let me spill another little secret: the April Fools Club is a home for people who have waited all winter for spring, a home for opting to start something new, something hard – together.

What have you been avoiding? What’s the one “hard” thing that feels simultaneously like what you need to do and the last thing you want to do? 

What if you get it over with and the rest of the day can be a delight? 

What if starting is not that bad? What if it’s… good?

Start slowly, gently, in your way. 

But start.

And What Else?

Explore one or all of these questions, and embrace the challenge to dig deeper, asking what else might be relevant to answer.

These questions match the categories of the And What Else? coaching card deck, which you might have seen prototypes of last year. Just in time for spring, I’ll have some fresh copies for sale soon… stay tuned! (Or message me to reserve a copy.)

Nuggets of Work-Life

Every coaching session and workshop closes with acknowledging learnings, insights, and moments of celebration. Here are a few of my recent nuggets:

• Psychological safety has been a recurring theme in my coaching, workshops, and courses over the last weeks. New managers, people exploring new jobs after rough work experiences, even fellow coaches. A lot of people appreciate learning that when we make mistakes out in the open and talk about them, it contributes to higher performance and better environments. I’m trying to be a role model for sharing mine. Will you join me and talk openly and vulnerably when you get stuck?

• It’s starting to freak me out how often people tell me that my voice helps them calm down. I was in a webinar with a Harvard business professor last week, and after answering my question, she also suggested I should have a podcast… because of my voice. As hard as it seems for me to really hear this feedback (I was mortified!), I’m also doing my best to embrace the possibilities. Sometimes we need to hear something again and again before it lands. (Anyway, this is not an announcement that I’m starting a podcast, but I did spend time learning about audio engineering to add music to my meditation recordings - and a one-hour sleep support! There are a few new options on Insight Timer this month.) Any feedback you’re hearing repeatedly that you’re starting to embrace?

• Patience is a mantra I often return to. As much as my work is about helping people to improve their relationships to work and make life better, I’m also building a business, which brings tons of challenges and learnings. When the numbers start to reflect the effort, I’m grateful that patience and persistence have shown me the way toward both stability and growth.

Practice Makes … Space for More Practice

• A pastime: How about planting some literal seeds? Mentally, I’m getting ready to seed bomb my neighborhood. Next time you’re in a shop with garden goods, pick up a packet of wildflowers. Find a spot that could spontaneously bring someone a smile, and go set your seeds free. Future-You will love what you create.

• A recipe: Did you know that homemade pasta only takes 100 grams of 00 flour, an egg, and a pinch of salt per person? Well, a little bit lot of elbow grease or a pasta machine help, but it’s a fun project to prepare solo or with friends.

• A movement: Next time you reach down to tie your shoes - if that’s your style - take an extra second to appreciate the gentle stretch of the forward fold. Stand with bent knees, breathe, and tie slowly. I could stay there for hours. I recently started exploring other ways to tie my shoes, too. Go ahead and take a little longer to tie your shoes, just to appreciate the stretch and the chance to see things from a different perspective.

Ways to Engage and Support

I’m super grateful to those of you who have been my clients (or those simply cheering along to grow &joy Coaching) over the years, as well as to the ones just getting started. It’s really a privilege and an honor to support folks in finding their way forward. A lot of what I do is purely listening, and while I have quite a bit of training, there’s very little stopping all of us from practicing better listening. 

As the world carries immense complexity and we’re all just walking each other home, take a moment to pause and listen the next time a loved one shares what’s close to them. Don’t respond. Just listen. That’s a way you can support us all.

In joy,
Stephen