A well-known Chinese proverb advises, “The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”

Since we can take no more than one step at a time, this wisdom seems self-evident.  If you’ve ever been to Disneyland, you might have noticed how this proverb plays out in real life.

When standing in line for a Disneyland attraction, it’s hard to know how long you’ll be waiting. That’s because the line is almost always arranged so you can’t really tell how long it is, especially from the back.  I’ve waited for an hour and a half to board one of the boats on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride.  Had I realized that when I first stood in line I might have chosen not to wait.

It is our attitude towards our lifetime journey of a thousand miles that makes all the difference.

Could I walk from Los Angeles to New York?  I’m not even going to calculate how many steps that might take, because I would be discouraged and give up before I started.  When I walk my 8,000 steps each day, I begin with the first step, and resist the temptation to do the math.  The first step out of 8,000 seems trivial, next to nothing, and yet…

That first step, joined by a second and a third, gets me . . . well, not even half way across my bedroom in the morning.  And yet, add up all of the steps I’ve taken in my lifetime, and there would be enough to carry me around the world more than once.

We can plan our lives for the next fifty years.  But we can live our lives just one step at a time.

A member of the Manhattan Chess Club once won a game against a renowned grandmaster.

“Your opponent is reputed to think fifteen or twenty moves in advance.  Is that what you did to beat him?”

“No, I only think one move at a time.  But I try to make it the best possible move.”

We can only take one step at a time.  Make it a good one.

Alan

It was a hot day in L.A.  I was heading into the office when I spied the In-N-Out Burger a few blocks ahead of me.

It was nearly time for lunch and I was hungry.  “I haven’t enjoyed an In-N-Out Burger for a year and a half,” I thought.

In the past I’ve used the drive-through, but the line of cars stretched part way around the block.

“I can eat in a restaurant again,” I thought.  So I decided to enjoy a respite from the heat.

As I began to munch my first burger (if one is good, aren’t two better?), the man who was bussing tables approached me.

“Would you like a glass of water?”

I was startled.  There are no waiters at In-N-Out.

“Sure.”

“With ice?”

“Uh, okay.”

He promptly brought me a glass of ice water. I responded with a heartfelt “thank you,” and gave him a tip.  Five minutes later he asked me if I would like a refill.  That’s better service than I remember receiving at some sit down restaurants in the dim and distant pre-Covid past of eighteen months ago.

Unfortunately, I’ve also noticed that many people who are out and about after isolating for what seems like forever have forgotten how to be civil. Earlier in the day I saw a near–collision when one driver brazenly failed to stop at an intersection, nearly hitting a car in front of them.  When I drive, I always think it’s more important to arrive safely, not quickly.

I believe that one reason we’re here is to help each other out.  After all, no one makes it very far in life alone.  And don’t other people – our families, our children, our friends – provide our greatest source of joy and happiness?  And maybe the stranger who brings you a glass of water on a hot afternoon?

That single, random act of kindness made my entire day.

I’m doing what I can to pay it forward.

Alan

P.S.  The burgers were pretty good too.

I already planned to write this blog on deadlines, but last Sunday the New York Times beat me to it.  Of course, that is bound to happen once in a while because they have a lot of writers to keep busy, and I just have me.

The gist of the NY Times article is that we more reliably complete a task when we have a specific goal tied to an explicit deadline.  This is true even if the deadline is self-imposed.

The NY Times thought they were writing about politicians setting deadlines for legislation, but I believe they were really writing about me.

Whenever I see a friend I haven’t talked to for a few months, one of their first questions is often, “How is your writing going?”

My answer is always the same.  “My blog is going fine.”

Eight years ago I gave myself a personal deadline. Every Tuesday morning I would post a new blog.  To allow time for editing, finding a photo, and posting, I need to complete my draft by Sunday evening.  I admit, once or twice that has slipped to Monday morning.  Well — once it even slipped to Monday evening, (with very little time for editing).

Other than my blog, what else have I written during the past eight years?  There were three People Tools books – all finished under strict deadlines set by a publisher. Two children’s books, also finished with a publisher’s deadline in mind.  I also write a large number of emails each day, usually at the last possible moment.  I seem to operate the same way most of us do – no deadline, no writing.

Strangely, when I was married to Susan, she told me that she was going to have to stay up late one night to finish a paper for school.

“Oh,” I said.  “It’s due tomorrow morning?”

“No.  It’s due in three weeks, but I like to finish assignments as early as I can.”  That was weird, even admirable, but clearly, as writers, we were incompatible.

I’ve also set a maximum of 600 words for each blog.  I like to keep it short – a reading time of less than three minutes.  The blog you are currently reading is now over 300 words, which is long enough.

And I have another deadline tonight, notably to finish reading the Sunday NY Times before they send the Monday edition.  If I didn’t respect that deadline, I’d still be reading news ten years old.

If you have any comments for me, please take note: the deadline is Tuesday at 3:00 am Pacific Daylight Savings Time.

Alan