Hello Reader,

A few weeks ago in New York, my daughter turned the tables on me. I was there for Podcast Movement, Grace came down from Montreal, and we sat in a studio at Kit with her asking me the questions for an episode of A Productive Conversation. (You can watch the episode here or listen to it here.)

One of the questions I didn’t see coming: of the nine principles of Productiveness, which one is hardest for me to actually live?

Cadence.

I wrote a whole chapter on it. In the book, I draw a line between cadence and consistency. Consistency is showing up on schedule, the checkbox ticked. Cadence is musical. It breathes, pauses, speeds up and slows down. It's not just when you show up, but how, and why.

Knowing that hasn't made it easy. Part of it is being a night owl in a world built for early risers. I live on the West Coast, and a lot of the people I work with are three hours ahead. So I'm always negotiating between the rhythm my body keeps and the one everyone else's calendar keeps.

The bigger part is that the seasons keep changing under me. When the kids were in grade school, my role looked one way. In high school, another. Now Grace lives across the country and my son is nearly done school, and it's shifting again. Each change knocks the rhythm loose. I wrote that once cadence is broken, it's hard to get back. I didn't expect to keep proving it.

For years I read that as a failing. I'd walk into rooms full of colleagues and wonder why I wasn't where they were. What helped was a reframe someone offered me. I wasn't a guy running a business who happened to be a stay-at-home parent. I was a stay-at-home parent who happened to run a business. Same life, different order. Suddenly the broken rhythm made sense. I'd been keeping time to something else.

So I don't beat cadence. I lean on another principle.

I told Grace I give myself enough grace to be okay with it, then had to add: the principle, not just your name. Some things take me longer. Some come out at 85% of what I'd hoped.

​In the book I describe a musician who misses a note but keeps playing, because the music doesn't stop.

Cadence forgives. Grace allows.

I'm still learning to let them.

The Final Flicker

The beat will skip. Keep playing.

See you later,
Mike

P.S. I left Grace a voicemail yesterday — four minutes, answering a question she asked me on camera that I talked my way around. She called back. I'm not telling you what she said, but the boots are apparently working. Watch the video here.​

Thanks for reading. Your time is valuable, and I don’t take it for granted. In a world pulling us in all directions, thanks for choosing The Lantern.