You will soon begin to notice it: there are things that people say to do, and there are things that people actually do, and the two routinely bear no relationship to one another. It’s especially easy to notice this phenomenon in childhood when advice, guidelines, edicts, and instructions are most forthcoming. Upon observing the disconnect – when people give you suggestions that they themselves don’t follow – it’s natural to be consumed by confusion. I am here to help.

When something becomes cliché there is great danger that mindlessness ensues. People will repeat a phrase like “Don’t lie” over and over without really thinking about why such a phrase is true. It just is. In childhood, though, if you ask Why? you’ll usually receive at least an attempt at explanation. It hurts people. Would you want someone to do it to you? It will make you a bad person. Perhaps these reasons can momentarily placate a child, but they are surely not good enough to honestly motivate behavior of anyone beyond a certain (read: young) age. At that tipping point, a safe conclusion is that adults are saying “Don’t lie” simply because everyone else is saying it. That’s it, that’s the mindlessness I’m referencing.

The conclusion is, of course, borne not solely out of insufficient explanations, but upon seeing a world filled with lies. Little lies. Big lies. Little big lies. It’s a bit like what the great Coach Chip Kelly said re: stretching:

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You are our Lebron James. That is, our surefire, “can’t miss,” once-in-a-generation, absolute lock #1 draft choice in the “Road Trip Partner Draft brought to you by State Farm.”

In the current age of analytics, it’s tempting to overcomplicate the obvious. This error, I promise, shall not be made by our organization. In RTPD, there are three metrics that truly matter, and you happen to score perfectly in all three:

one // Driving Skills // Generally accepted as the least important trait in draft prospects, but an area where if the bare minimum standard isn’t met – stick driving competence – an otherwise tantalizing stud becomes undraftable. Supreme driving skills, the let’s-see-how-fast-I-can-go-in-a-neighborhood balls that you flaunt, are often registered as a sort of “tie-breaker” among elite draft choices.

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This seems like the absolute perfect time to stop making a mistake I keep making. Your nascence is what makes the timing so right (welcome to the world, btw) because it is expected that the youthful need advice. And it’s the entire advice-giving enterprise where I continue to err.

Quite quickly you will begin to explore the world. Exploration will bring you much joy; it will also bring questions. In need of answers, you may well turn to adults, and, perhaps, you may turn to me at some point. I would be honored by an inquiry. Glowing from the request – Me?!? I can’t believe xxxxxxxxx thinks so highly of me – I’ll be tempted to answer with facts, figures, wisdom, and anything else that counts as “advice.” After all, I’m the adult here, the man with all this knowledge, and the least I can do is share with you. This logic feels right. It will even feel right to you. I asked for advice, so give it to me. No longer will I oblige.

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There is always a temptation to think you have the answer for someone else. Consumed by this noble desire to help, it’s easy to forget that most problems are not information problems – the fat person is rarely confused about what constitutes healthy eating. Which means that action is the issue, and how to inspire action is as elusive an answer as any.

With you, though, action is unlikely to be lacking either. This puts you squarely in an elite genre of people who are both willing to try and deeply understand the world, and who then possess the will to carry out the prescribed behaviors.

Still, the temptation emerged: Let me get xxxxxxxxx a good book of philosophy. But no, I am the master of my fate, the captain of my soul, and I shall not give in to this desire.

So I give you this book because it is très lolz. That’s it. No grand message. No deeper purpose. Just an enjoyable way to spend some time.

Be well. Or not. But do laugh. If that doesn’t happen, I’ve done something wrong.

Kids used to be beaten. Fortunately, this practice has largely been abandoned as parental gentleness has won out over “tough love.”

A trend away from aggression has also occurred in youth itself. And again, there are victories to be celebrated as unsafe, risky behaviors become less common.

This transformation, though, is not without at least one major downside. While I do not doubt that your wonderful parents will create a loving, compassionate, and fun environment, that you will be encouraged and supported endlessly, growing up shall still be an angsty process. You’ll need an outlet as you grapple with your place in a world. I dare say that the greatest such outlet is really loud and really “violent” music that is screamed along to while driving fast (but not too fast) with all the windows down. But in society’s rush toward softness, the genres of music most appropriate for this great outlet have all but disappeared. No harsh guitars. No dominating vocals. No epic darkness.

Sometimes it’s okay to look back. Progress winds imperfectly, thus what used to be can indeed trump what is. So, like your father before you, when the messiness of life seems too much, Nine Inch Nails will not let you down, will not make you hurt.

Running a four-minute mile is hard. Being happy is hard. But these are distinct types of “hard,” and remembering that truth is vital.

The first type of hard is Never Done Before (NDB). Even for the most adventurous, the most risk-loving, and the most challenge-oriented, unique difficulty accompanies first attempts. For as much as you may believe in yourself, and as much as you may possess a rich resume of success, an inner voice of doubt (IVD) whispering Yea, but you may not be able to do this will be waiting for you upon an NDB undertaking. There are some near-universal NDBs, like running a four-minute mile, but every individual’s complete NDB list remains unique. This helps explain why the same activity can be so easy for one person (non-NDB) and so arduous for another (NDB).

Another type of hard is Please, Do That Again (PDTA). Unlike NDB, you have indeed successfully done That. Yet, you remain skeptical about your abilities since you lack understanding regarding how triumph occurred – you feel “lucky.” Thus, a replication crisis grips you such that if you are asked to perform That again, IVD will appear whispering essentially the same message it gives for NDB.

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There is seeing X.

There is also seeing X AND seeing how others see X. In this modern version of witnessing, truth is more easily obscured. Do you not like X, or is that you just don’t like the way others view X? 

There are limits to animus in clearly seeing X, even if X is loathsome, that are easily exceeded when one is reacting no longer to merely X itself, but to the people who view X differently (a.k.a. more favorably).

This excess animus is possible because responding viciously to opinions is more acceptable, more justified than when responding to an actual individual’s actual actions. Furthermore, the clarity of only seeing X as X necessarily involves understanding, which leads to some level of compassion, which blunts hatred.

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A risk inherent in the perform-better-each-day (PBED) mentality is that one may well be tempted to coast upon realizing he’s massively outperforming at, say, the halfway mark. The temptation is two-fold:

1. Trying hard is hard, so if giving anything less than will keep PBEB intact, comfort AND success can be achieved with easy effort.
2. Outperforming too greatly jeopardizes the entire PBED enterprise. Marginal improvements are absorbable, Carl Lewis-leaps are not.

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PBED tends to ignore the non-linear nature of progress. When detached from the tidy narrative society tells itself about a neat work-in-work-out process of progress, a reality is revealed where seemingly no progress, despite great practice, is made for long stretches. Then, as if by magic, massive gains are suddenly achieved. Of course, we will still fight to cram this genre of progress into a narrative … and this will be a mistake. The lesson: randomness plays a larger role in progress than any of us feel comfortable admitting.

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Your 100% is absolutely contingent on the context, some of which you can comprehend, most of which you cannot.

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is not telling people that you are fasting.

Sharing your willingness to either be (a) very kind (think volunteer work) or (b) do challenging things (i.e., fasting) are bankable ways to gain “social credibility.” While it’s completely natural to covet esteem, being overly driven by this desire is to remove a pureness in the activity. Are you doing this because you want to do it, or because you think other people will be impressed?

The less external validation you need, the greater the inner peace you will have.