You are not the critical voice. You are the person aware of the critical voice. You are the person feeling perplexed by it or bummed out by it or believing it. You are the person trying to understand and work with it and get rid of it. … The critic is not the core of you. The core of you is the you of your aspirations, of your inner wisdom. The critic is a kind of intruder. It’s a voice that happens to play in your mind, but it is not who you really are.
In the last…
Between COVID and divorce, I’ve wondered — often—whether my kids will ever have a normal childhood. The last year of no soccer games, or play groups, or joy school/preschool, or even family get-togethers has thrown us all for a loop. I guess I should feel grateful my kids are young enough that they really haven’t noticed anything is different—for my three year old, a COVID world is about all she remembers. But honestly, that isn’t really that comforting.
Eventually, though, the world will settle back into some version of regular. And with that, I hope comes some version of regular…
This last week, my team and I needed to jumpstart a new project we’re managing in GitHub/ZenHub. As I started working one-by-one down my list of 70 tickets I was supposed to create, I thought to myself: “There has to be a better way.”
Thanks to Gavin Rehkemper, there is. We used his GitHub CSV Tools to upload 70 tickets, complete with labels, descriptions, and assignees, in about 2 minutes. Here’s how we did it.
We are addicted to recognition. Here’s an ode to anonymity—service and success without recognition or praise. We need it now more than ever.
Maimonides described eight levels of charity, each holier than the one below:
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There it beams
Pearls among a throng of black
So silent, so soft
So humble and yet so strong in its place
Simply something I can’t ignore I draw closer
to assuage my swollen senses with peace
to bend and break
i am shattered
i seek thy face and only here am directed
i am weak by worldly woes and all the wearying ways of life
i strive for it within me and seek to be within you You seek to send down comfort and rain it all upon me
You speak in such a whisper that I strain…
It’s cold outside and I see smoke
floating over the small huts and stone houses across the city.
The ride down into the valley is faster than usual,
but Bethlehem seems not to notice.
Past the city walls and down some barren streets,
occasionally glancing up to look at the star.
We — me, uncle, brother, father, all shepherds —
turn a corner and find a dead end.
But, the star is here; how can this be?!
Nothing by a small cavern with one dim light
that shows a group of cattle and sheep inside.
But, no — this is…