johnmaconline

You want a mandate that will actually do some good? When I’m king, here’s one that I’m rolling out:

From the ages of 12 to 15, each and every American child should have to play baseball or softball. Mandatory baseball/softball service.

Here’s why:

1. You must learn how to handle failure. Baseball and softball are games of failure. The best players to ever play the game failed at 2/3 of their opportunities.
2. You learn how to forget what just happened and focus on the present. You just made an error? Get ready because here comes the next ground ball. You struck out last time? That has no bearing on your next at-bat. 
3. You cannot win individually. Even Mike Trout, the best individual player since Babe Ruth, never has and won’t ever win the championship unless and until he changes teams or the Angels get better collectively.
4. It’s a team sport, yes, but each play requires individual success or failure, and everyone will know how you performed. That ground ball is coming right at you. Only you can hit the next pitch. Will your fastball be a strike? All eyes are on you. You either did it or you didn’t.

“Never Forget” is a tribal mantra.

“Never forget 9/11!”
“Never forget January 6!”
“Never forget what they did to your kids!”
“Never forget how they voted for fascism!”

That’s tribal marketing doing what it does — working to gain and keep the power. They play your emotions like a fiddle, suck you in, and get your head nodding along.

But how exactly do we move forward if we “never forget?”

You can’t. You can’t ever move forward. It’s the surest recipe to stay stuck and exactly where you are. Is this where you want to stay?

Therefore, we must always forget. Start today.

When we didn’t have enough food, people died from malnourishment. Now we have enough food, and people die from over-nourishment.

When we didn’t have enough internet bandwidth to support social media, people were more isolated from each other. Now we have enough bandwidth, and people suffer from mental health disorders from being too connected.

When we didn’t have enough transportation, people died or suffered because they couldn’t get to medical attention. Now we have enough transportation, and people die or suffer because of transportation accidents.

If you don’t have enough money, life can be difficult. If you have enough money, life can be difficult.

Often, we think quantity is our problem. Sometimes it is. But having enough also brings its own set of problems.

Which side is a bigger problem? Less or more? Only context can provide that answer.

To be clear, you don’t need to get smarter. Neither do I.

I don’t really care, nor should you care if I care, because nowhere in this reality we call life does it matter how smart or dumb each of us is.

That’s lesson one.

However, if you want to get smarter, there is a simple prescription:

Question your own beliefs.

When you do that, you realize that many questions are valid scientifically, if not emotionally.

“Could the earth be flat?”
“Could gender be fluid?”
“Could lockdowns and masking be more harmful than helpful?”
“Could Christianity be wrong?”
“Could Q be nothing more than a grand marketing scheme?”
“Could COVID vaccines be responsible for deaths?”

By the way, it’s OK to land back on the same belief you had before you questioned it. Most of the time, you will. But the journey will pay dividends in the form of previously unknown nuggets of insight and understanding. And those tiny little nuggets stacked upon one another allow us to build the bridge of empathy.

Smart people aren’t afraid to question their beliefs, nor are they afraid of revisiting already answered questions, if even just to confirm.

The Science^(tm) demands it.

My software development team has a method of determining the importance of a particular requirement, bug fix, feature, or task by asking a single question.

“Is this elephant shit or mouse poop?”

For example, is it more important to fix the bug that’s crashing the system or that we get the correct heading color on the results page?

When you’re looking around at a room full of elephant shit and spot a little bit of mouse poop over there in the corner, where do you start? Seems easy, right? But it’s not always easy because often, the mouse poop aligns with the story we tell ourselves.

I’m cutting sugar to lose weight, so I don’t eat bananas.
I always buy organic Doritos.
I don’t run because too much running will lower my testosterone.

Mouse poop can be a powerful trap.

If you want to make a difference, attain a goal, or effect a change, take care of the elephant shit first. That may require adjusting the story you tell yourself.

I have the same thought each year as I trudge through my yearly Inbox Enema: 

There oughta be a better law^† for unsubscribing, and that law should look as follows.

• All email messages sent from a subscription service shall include a single-click opt-out for unsubscribing^†
• The opt-out shall be a clickable link in the header and footer of the message.
• The clickable link shall be attached to and presented by one of two methods:
  • The (hypertext) word “UNSUBSCRIBE,” or
  • An image/button that clearly presents the word “UNSUBSCRIBE.”

• Upon unsubscription, the service shall send a single message confirming that unsubscription is complete.

To further define “single-click:”

• When clicked, the link shall directly unsubscribe them from all communications.
• The user shall not be required to further login (provide credentials) or choose from a selection of opt-in/out preferences.

You may:

• Present a page that indicates they have been unsubscribed.
• On that page, include links to re-subscribe.
• On that page, present a selection of opt-in/out preferences.
• In the confirmation message, present any marketing information, resubscribe links, or opt-in/out preference links.
• In addition to “UNSUBSCRIBE,” email messages may include links for opt-in/out preferences or any other related operations. But the “UNSUBSCRIBE” link shall directly unsubscribe them from all. 

† A weak single-click opt-out law already exists.

I used to be a digital hoarder. 

Not anymore, though. Now, one of my beginning-of-the-year tasks is to give my email Inbox(es) an enema. 

Inbox Zero is a myth. Or rather, it’s a myth past the second week of January. So I don’t fight it. In fact, I’ve come to find that I don’t even need it. But once a year, I give that Inbox a right and proper enema. And boy, does it feel good.

Fresh and clean. Uncluttered and unencumbered. Open and inviting.

The opportunities are endless.

My cleaning cycle consists of unsubscribing, archiving, and deletion. Truth be told, though, “delete” is by far my favorite. In a single morning, I deleted over 1000 emails that had left my Inbox looking like a digital version of the dystopian landscape from WALL-E. 

I think there’s something emotionally cleansing about deleting that isn’t quite true of unsubscribing and archiving. Unsubscribing is an act for the future — “I don’t really know if you’ll try to take any of my future time, but please don’t.” Archiving is an act of preservation — “This might be useful, or helpful, or for some reason I may need to recall this. Even if I don’t want to.”

But deletion…That’s wiping the slate clean. 

What’s been piling up in your emotional Inbox that you need to delete?

The difference between misinformation and disinformation is intent.
The difference between murder and manslaughter is intent.
The difference between capitalization and exploitation is intent.
The difference between a misogynist pig and a virtuous Christian is intent.
The difference between a ring and an engagement ring is intent.
The difference between preference and racism is intent.

The outcome may be the same, but the process, thinking, and feeling are oh, so different.

Intention is difficult to discern, but it’s always worth the effort.

Janice had a thought.

“I’m a coffee drinker. I’ve never had tea before because…well, tea is dumb. Obviously. High octane, please. But some people I know really enjoy tea. I can’t imagine why someone would enjoy tea. But I wonder…Do I have it wrong? What would it be like? Why do some people choose tea over coffee? What if today I have tea instead of coffee?”

Of course, it doesn’t matter whether Janice has tea or coffee because the courage to consider that she might be wrong is enough.

The story you tell yourself may be how right you were. Or maybe it’s about how you’re a member of the right team — the smart, caring, and correct ones.  

But the story you tell yourself might be about what a bad person you are. About how you aren’t worthy or will never be who you want to be. It may be a story of failures and regrets.

Which is right?

They both are, of course. We’re talking about reality, not truth. 

Which means if you want to make a change, start a new path, or finally live authentically, start with the story you tell yourself.