Working with the garage door up

I’m not certain, but this probably will only make sense if you are a certain age, and grew up in a house with a garage. It doesn’t need to have been “dad’s garage,” nor a space dedicated to fixing things, nor even sheltered an automobile. No, it only matters that you grew up in a house with a garage.

There’s magic in having an indoor space with a concrete floor. A floor that clearly has taken a beating, and is ready for more abuse. A space with a slightly different sort of door dividing it from the soft and people-oriented rest of the house. A space where things were maybe a little less organized, but definitely were more out in plain sight. Maybe there was some sort of workbench? Maybe some tools. Maybe a lot of tools? Regardless, pretty much all the “where should we put this?” stuff wound up in the garage. Painting something? Garage. Taking something part? Not on the carpet! …in the garage. Fixing your bike? New wheels on your skate board? You get the idea. You either know what I’m talking about, or you don’t.

Did you do, whatever you did, with the garage door open, or closed? Weather permitting, throwing open that garage door was an invitation to the world—but hopefully, only the nice neighbors—to saunter up and at least watch. Turns out, that’s literally “showing your work.” A huge part of what I’m doing these days is working where I can be seen. There’s collateral recognition of course, but mostly it’s just scratching an itch to toss things on a workbench and throw open the ‘ol garage door.

If you know what I’m talking about, you can even hear that door opening.

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Show your work

I return often to Kleon’s matra of “show your work“.

I always fade out from the process. I think the reason is that I’m not necessarily doing something related to podcasting every day. (Which is fine.) Without a strong habit of podcast-specific work (for example, “I do podcast stuff at 9am every day”) I don’t get in the habit of doing the extra little bit of work to capture something showing my work…

I’m convinced, my work would be better—and it would help others too—if I showed my work more. But I can’t seem to crack this nut.

Zooming out, away from podcasting . . .

I keep thinking: I don’t have a clear, single thing that is “my work” — it’s not podcasting, it’s not blog writing, it’s not community building [here], … For example: Here’s some notes I took, over the course of an hour thinking about coaching movement, based on a long conversation I had with a coach I respect. We had a coffee meeting where I wanted to pick his brain…

I post all sorts of things here, on the ‘ol blog. In recent years, my posting grew, become a weekly thing which I cleaved off to be the 7 for Sunday weekly email. Here I continue to post new quotes from my collection, copies of all the podcast episodes I do [all shows, anywhere], and a lot of “this is interesting” links that I find.

This morning, I’m thinking: My blog has long been the place where I work with the garage door up. Maybe I should lean into that?

…develop the habit of showing something (anything, from any project I’m working on) there on my blog. 🤔

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What’s a daily blog actually for?

I started this blog in August 2011 as a place to post a eulogy. Fifteen years and over 5,000 posts later, it’s no longer one thing. It’s a system that does several jobs at once — exposes me to material I wouldn’t otherwise read, forces a third pass on anything that catches my attention, makes me decide what’s actually worth keeping, and gives me an archive to come back to when I’ve forgotten what I once knew.

This thread is about why I keep doing it. Not as advice — I have no idea whether what works for me would work for you — but as the working-out of a practice that has shaped how I think for over a decade. The blog isn’t precious. It’s messy. I work with the garage door up. The thread is sequenced for someone wondering whether it’s still worth doing this kind of thing.

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Provoking the powerful

One reason I write here, is because I think it’s healthy for me to work with the garage door up. My choice of the guideline that herein I write about myself and things I find lying about reminds me to stick with sharing my subjective experience. Long ago I began suppressing my urge to share my opinions, and gosh, that turns out to be liberating.

This is the birth of “epistemic humility” in Western philosophy: the acknowledgment that one’s blind spots and shortcomings are an invitation for ongoing intellectual investigation and growth.

~ J. W. Traphagan and John J. Kaag from, What Socrates’ ‘know nothing’ wisdom can teach a polarized America

Elsewhere, this is 4utewa1. — slipbox

The confetti gun of opinions seems always to be spewing. For a while I was concerned that my expanding humility would create a sort of power vacuum into which even more opinions of others would drift and settle. But, nope. Removing my contribution has made no difference in the fluttering mess. None the less, it’s simply nice not to feel urgency to contribute to the mess.

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Take some time to reflect

On your deathbed, you would do anything, pay anything for one more ordinary evening. For one more car ride to school with your children. For one more juicy peach. For one more hour on a park bench. Yet here you are, experiencing any number of those things, and rushing through it. Or brushing it off. Or complaining about it because it’s hot or there is traffic or because of some alert that just popped up on your phone. Or planning some special thing in the future as if that’s what will make you happy. You can’t add more at the end of your life…but you can not waste what’s in front of you right now.

~ Ryan Holiday from, 35 Lessons on the Way to 35 Years Old

Elsewhere, this is 4uryle1. — slipbox

This blog started initially as a place for me to post a eulogy, and then it grew to serve many more purposes. It’s now solidly a way for me to reflect, and to work with the garage door up. Discovery, reflection, and efficacy are pretty frickin’ important to me and keeping up with the ‘ol bloggin’ forces me to keep up with daily discovery and reflection. I’ve a bunch of other processes beyond this blog.

It’s a rare post where I both have a point and state it explicitly: Whether you go off to Holiday’s article and follow that thread, follow my links in this email or this post, or my series teaching daily reflection matters not. It only matters that you take time to reflect.

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Thhhhpbt

Burnout research shows that cynicism is an easy way out when we don’t have the mental resources to cope. It’s no surprise that cynicism is a core attribute of the burnout equation: during a time of ongoing stress it’s much easier to be pessimistic than it is to mobilize and make a difference.

~ Chris Bailey from, Remember: Burnout and cynicism go hand-in-hand

Elsewhere, this is 4uaire1. — slipbox

That short blog post is about news-from-the-Internet and the pandemic, but it’s perfectly applicable to any source of chronic stress. For me, the chronic stress is entirely self-inflicted and the cautions remain the same.

I’ve gotten relief from myself over the years through journaling and blogging. Journalling gives me some perspective. (But it is difficult to do it well, since it can degenerate into subjectivity, navel gazing, or whining.) Blogging gives me the chance to regularly work with the garage door up; showing my work by exposing my thinking. Even if mostly no one calls me on anything, knowing that people are looking calls me to a higher quality of thinking.

Yesterday and today I’ve been thinking about taking another look at cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT). A couple years ago I made a pass at understanding it—specifically wondering if one could “do it” to oneself. (Yes.) I’ve dusted off a small volume for a re-read to see what I can tune in my existing self-care routines, and hopefully find some new ones to settle into for a while.

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Welcome


Like letter-writing?

There are broadly two types of sources we identify when studying history: narrative sources and relics […] The former are things designed to convey something to future generations, […] Relics [sic] the other hand were not intended for future generations. They do not have a “transmission intent”. While they often hold true to the beliefs of the person producing them they tend to have little to no large-scale bias in recording history. They are also excellent records equivalent to oral history and can serve as both primary sources and secondary sources that are closer to an original event than subsequent scholarly literature.

~ Venkatram Harish Belvadi, from Relics of the future

Elsewhere, this is 4uvere1. — slipbox

I’ve now been typing away on this blog for fifteen years and what I have posted here has varied wildly in that time.

While it has occurred to me to wonder what happens to the blog after I die, it had never occurred to me to wonder if there might be actual value to historians here.

I’m honestly not sure what to do with that. Do I keep posting? Do I close the garage door?

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And 7 years later?

What does that mean? It means you can write a post that is directed within the network. If you want to get on the radar of a blogger – write about their ideas and reference them. The lowly hyperlink is a connective tissue that creates a network graph between the nodes.

~ Tom Critchlow, from Experiments in Networked Writing

Critchlow wrote that in 2018. 7 years down the road, all the technology (for the web and blogs) works great, it’s easier than ever to blog, and in 14 years / 5,000 posts I’ve never had anyone (an author of something I’ve linked to) reach out to me. I’m not complaining—I don’t blog as a way to fish for connections like that. (I blog as a way of working with the garage door up.)

Elsewhere, this is 4utone1. — slipbox

Also, how is this the first time I’ve used the tag “Blogging”?

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Getting back to podcasting

Working with the garage door up, means I’m really just thinking out loud. I’m talking mostly to myself. It’s been a long time since I’ve done an episode for one of my own shows. Obviously the break was begun because of health issues in 2024. In the last couple of months though, I again do have the time. And I miss it. So I shall resume.

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