Writing on living a deliberate life, focused on building businesses rather than cabins by ponds. Content about strategy, life, and philosophy all building to being more deliberate and living a more amazing life.

Happy Weekend…

Before we go further, can I ask you a dangerous question?

(Don’t worry—it’s not about your 401k or your cholesterol.)

What does living deliberately mean to you?

One part of my definition is learning not to hate work.

Because, honestly, I really do hate work. Not my job, work. It feels like a perpetual process of pulling teeth and fingernails. And yet, it occupies the vast majority of my time (well beyond 9–5).

I spend a ridiculous amount of energy just trying to start.

There’s always a voice inside whispering:

“Let’s just quit… everything. Maybe become a goat farmer.”

But then another, much more sane voice reminds me that I do not like getting up at 4 AM, and farmers are always up at the crack of dawn, so…

Farming wouldn’t work either.

Which brings me to Tibetan monks.

Sand, Patience, and Willful Destruction

Tibetan monks spend days, weeks, even months, painstakingly building intricate sand mandalas—grain by grain, curve by curve. The work is stunning, precise, sacred.

And then… they destroy it.

On purpose.

They sweep it away and pour it into a river.

It’s hard not to feel a little loss when you see something so beautiful vanish in an instant. But that’s the point.

The monks don’t build for permanence, praise, or to hang it on the wall behind velvet ropes.

They build to practice non-attachment.

To do the right work, and then let it go.

My Training Was… Different

That’s not what I learned.

Probably not what you learned either.

I was trained to hustle. To produce. To build something permanent. To create an advantage, to be clever.

Buy the car, the house, the bigger car, the bigger house.

Work hard. Stay ahead. Measure the result. Optimize.

Sound familiar?

Yeah, me too.

Yoga, Rusted Garden Hoses, and Practice

The one place I was able to practice non-attachment was yoga.

I hated the gym—everybody yelling do more, go faster, be better.

Nobody shouted in yoga. And as a middle-aged man with the flexibility of a rusted garden hose, nobody expected much either.

New students always ask, “When will I be flexible?”

I asked too. It was my way of sneaking in outcome expectations.

The answer: No idea. Maybe tomorrow, maybe never. But that’s not the point.

Flexibility isn’t the prize.

Practice is the prize.

Over time, the practice gave me more than I imagined—balance, focus, better breathing.

I lost weight and gained health. Miraculously, my feet stopped hurting when I hiked.

And yes, I did gain some flexibility.

All by enjoying the practice enough to show up—without obsessing over the outcome.

Letting Go

At work though? I’m only focused on the outcomes. And that relentless focus has left me chasing shortcuts and landing in meaninglessness.

The practice isn’t fun. The journey doesn’t feel worthwhile.

The advice is usually: embrace impermanence and let go of expectations. Which sounds great, but how?

My mom told me a story about a teacher friend. The friend loved teaching writing and gave her students loads of assignments. Then the grading piled up until it became unbearable.

It weighed on her. It made teaching miserable.

So she did the only logical thing.

She threw the assignments away.

(With apologies to the kids who stayed up till 2 a.m. perfecting their essay on To Kill a Mockingbird.)

And you know what? It was the practice that mattered anyway.

Recently, I tried the same thing.

I decided to simplify. I went through thousands of unread emails, thinking the secret to unending happiness might be hiding in my inbox.

Spoiler: it wasn’t.

You know it. I know it. Those emails were just a weight around my neck.

So I deleted them.

Then I deleted the entire Google Drive.

And I unsubscribed from a hosting service I’d been clinging to because “there might have been a version of some website that I might need someday.”

If there was, I’ll never know.

It’s gone the way of the mandala.

And I feel lighter already.

Your Turn

So here’s the question:

What have you created that you’re still clutching like a toddler with a stuffed giraffe?

What could you throw away today?

Toss it. Burn it. Delete it.

(Okay, maybe don’t delete your tax returns. Or your spouses fantasy football spreadsheet, that’s just asking for trouble. But get rid of something you’ve been holding on to.

And let’s chat about it here, how did it feel to let go?

Enjoy the holiday.

Jeff

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Why Tibetan Monks Destroy Their Best Work