Getting Things Done Elsewhere

I found the intersection of the following two posts that popped up on my radar interesting. Both should be of interest to "knowledge workers" and those who work at home.

The first, Things I’ve quit doing at my desk, offers some great tips for making your desk a workspace of purpose by employing some basic ground rules. All of the ideas are great but I found this one resonates with my own thinking and other things I’ve recently read:

If you’re like me, your best thinking happens when you’re not at your desk: taking a walk, going and asking another person for help, drinking a coffee, in the shower. Your desk is for executing; do your thinking elsewhere.

Then, shortly thereafter, I read this post from Randy Murray that aligns with my personal experience as well:

Having difficulty focusing and getting your work done? Pack up and move to somewhere new to work.

I have found that even moving to a different place in my house has the same effect for me.

Sometimes, the best way to get things done can be found by getting away from where you normally do them.


I see the signs. They are every where and no where. Concealed and in plain sight. Hidden to those that wish deception. For the fiction is pleasantry. Yet, for those of us who can see, we beg for blindness. For the truth is everything we fear.

I wrote this almost a year ago. I don’t know why. It is not a part of anything. Nor, do I feel that it is the start or ending to anything just yet. It just came out and, now, exists.

Sometimes, I write little snippets of things — fragments. Sometimes sentences. Sometimes paragraphs. Sometimes a whole page or two. Sometimes a single word.

I had a creative writing teacher when I was a teenager tell me this was not uncommon. That sometimes a writer’s brain does not work in linear wholes. That, sometimes a fragment will appear suddenly and have no place. Then, someday later, you might stumble across it and build upon it or find a place where it belongs.

She told me to set these aside and revisit them from time to time. That eventually their place may come along.

I have found this a helpful lesson for much of life. Not everything has to have a place right away. Sometimes we find a place. Sometimes a place comes along.

Other Side Of The Lens

B and Me

This is a shot of Beatrix and I, taken the other day at the park. Pictures of the two of us together are rare. Not because we don’t spend much time together. Simply because I’m so often the one taking the pictures.

Yet, I spend a great deal of time with my little girl. I’m fiercely protective of that time too. She is simply one of my favorite people to be around. She’s sweet and funny and a creative thinker. She has an incredibly kind spirit and gentle heart. She’s the sort of kid who greets everyone she passes as we walk to the park. If they have a dog she will politely ask if she can pet it, ask the name, and hold out her hand gently and let the dog sniff before running her tiny hands across its head. She thanks people politely when they give her a compliment. Courtesy and grace are a part of her being.

She’s also wonderful to photograph. And I find myself being so captivated by doing so that it does not occur to me to be in the same frame with her. To show some evidence of being there too.

I think it is often the case that there is that one person in the family who assumes the role of principle photographer. It generally just kind of happens. And, I believe you could always tell who that person is if looking though a collection of family photos. They are the ones who appear in the fewest of the photos.

If you are that person in your family, remember to step around to the other side of the lens from time to time. Let the future know that you were there too.