Tag: life

The Error Term

When you hear the word beautiful, what comes to mind?

Maybe it’s a golden sunset. Or a vista of snow-capped mountains. Or the elegant grace of wild horses running free.

Those are all beautiful sights, no doubt.

But when I hear the word beautiful, I think of something else entirely. I think of a regression function.

You’re probably thinking this is an odd choice. And you’re right.

Beauty is supposed to be about the majesty of nature. About the tenderness of emotion.

A regression equation seemingly has little of either of these sentiments.

It’s a string of numbers, letters and symbols. As cold and calculating as a movie villain. As dry as day-old ink on the page.

Still, there is a method to my preference.

How could there not be? After all, method is math’s bread and butter.

So, let’s break it down.

At its core, a regression function is an explanation.

It explains how one variable is impacted by others.

For instance, we could run a regression to see how interest rates impact home prices. Or how days with cold temperatures impact doctors’ visits.

We could even look at the impacts of two different variables. For example, how the local football team’s performance impacts the number of traffic accidents on the city’s streets and the amount of nightly revenues at the city’s restaurants.

With enough data, we can look at just about anything. The regression model is simply the tool we use to transform the data into something worth talking about.

Now, this data-driven explanation doesn’t necessarily show cause and effect. After all, a golden rule of statistics is that Correlation does not equal causation.

No, a regression equation simply shows how the variables are related. How two — or three, or four — elements tend to work together.

This knowledge is what allows us to make predictions. It can help meteorologists build 10 day weather forecast models. It can help political consultants handicap future election results. And it can help business managers make shrewd strategic pivots.

In all these cases, the data speak volumes. The regression equations provide evidence to guide the prognosticators in their choices. They seem to illuminate the path ahead, like runway lights at an airport.

But while a strong regression can give a forecaster confidence, the process is far from failproof.

We’ve all seen a time where the weathercaster was flat out wrong. Where the pollster missed the mark. Or where a company’s bold moves fell flat.

When this happens, we’re quick to assign blame.

We rush to shame the experts for getting it wrong. For leading us astray. For not being perfect.

This is ridiculous — for multiple reasons.

For one thing, perfection is not an attainable ideal. Mistakes are a fact of life, and we all slip up from time to time. There’s no need to call out others for being human.

But just as importantly, regression models themselves are not perfect.

If you were to write out a regression equation, it would likely look something like this.

y = ß0 + ß 1x1 + ß 2x2 + e

The y’s and x’s show the part of the equation that can be predicted. This section of the equation shows how a change in variable y tends to impact variable x1 or x2.

This is the part of the equation that prognosticators — weathercasters, pollsters, business leaders — rely on. And they’re right to do so — most of the time.

But that e at the end of the equation represents something totally different.

The e stands for the error term — the part of the model that can’t be predicted.

This is the randomness, the chaos, the side effects that can’t be explained.

Statisticians do their best to build models that reduce that e term as much as possible. To isolate the exact factors that explain a relationship between multiple variables.

Still, no matter how much they try and remove all error, it remains.

That might seem like a problem. But I believe it’s a good thing.

For the world is neither simple nor clean. It can’t be neatly organized in boxes, wrapped in paper and topped with bows.

No, the world is inherently messy. It can defy logic and be straight-up perplexing at times.

The error term captures this reality. It captures life in its purest form.

This is why I love the error term. This is why I associate a regression equation with beauty.

And this is why I believe the error term requires more attention from all of us.

Throughout our daily lives, we do our best to prepare.

We brush our teeth, shower and put on climate-appropriate clothing. We add appointments and events to our calendar. We map out our immediate and future spending needs.

We do what we can so that we’re ready to act decisively now and in the future.

I am no stranger to this behavior. Indeed, I tend to obsess over preparation and organization.

This laser-sharp focus is a net benefit. It allows us to be presentable and to make proper decisions.

But relying solely on this approach can get us off track.

For life is defined by the error term. By the instances when things take an unexpected left turn. By the moments we can’t possibly prepare for.

These changes of pace, these shocks to the system — they do more than spice things up. They test our mettle.

These are the moments that define our lives. These are the occurrences that unlock ingenuity and innovation. These are the opportunities for us to display our humanity.

We build emotional connections by navigating the error term. Those connections lead to storytelling, as we share accounts of our experience through visuals, through audio and through the written word. And those stories we tell ourselves — they help shape our culture.

It’s time we embrace the error term. It’s time we stop obsessing on all that can be explained, and that we come to terms with what confounds us.

This is what will allow us to live our lifes to the fullest. To treasure the journey with a clear and open mind.

To err is human. Let’s get back in touch with our humanity.

On Mortality

I ain’t here for a long time. I’m here for a good time.

Those words are from a song recorded by King of Country himself — George Strait.

Strait’s up-tempo, Western swing tune, taps into the cliché Live like there’s no tomorrow. That cliché, of course, is more well-worn than the country star’s signature Stetson.

We’re all in on being in the moment. On living life to the fullest.

But what about the other side of that phrase? What if there really were no tomorrow?

This is a more troubling proposition for us. So much so that we try not to consider it.

Yet, we’re doing ourselves no favors by acting in this manner.

I’ve thought plenty about life over the years. And I’ve shared a lot of those thoughts right here.

But I’ve also thought a great deal about death.

I was less than 10 miles away from the World Trade Center on September 11th, 2001. The horrors of that day served as a stark reminder that nothing can be taken for granted.

I have tried to make the most out of my life ever since that fateful day. To broaden my impact and not leave my cards on the table.

Still, no matter my approach, I recognize that everything could be over in an instant. One wrong step and I could be gone. One Act of God could be the end of me.

It’s admittedly a bit strange going through life fully transparent on Boogeyman lurking over my shoulder. But I don’t want to delude myself into a false sense of security.

For there is no such thing as total security. As I get older — and my body starts to betray me — I get ever more convinced of that fact.

Yes, safety is a fairy tale. It’s the story we tell ourselves so we can sleep soundly at night.

The sooner we recognize that, the better.

 

Not too long ago, a tragic incident in Dallas made national news.

An off-duty police officer returned her apartment building. She opened the door to what she thought was her apartment and found a man inside. She fired her service weapon at that man, thinking he was an intruder.

It turns out that the officer had parked on the wrong floor of the building’s embedded garage. She was not, in fact, in her apartment when she pulled her weapon. The man she shot was her upstairs neighbor. And that gunshot killed him in his own apartment.

There are no silver linings in the story. An innocent man is dead, and the erstwhile public servant who shot him has been convicted of murder and sentenced to 10 years in prison.

Stories like these are why I got out of the broadcast news industry years ago. I felt sick covering the most tragic acts of humanity.

Still as a fellow Dallas-area citizen, I do feel the need to reflect on this particular tragedy.

The now ex-police officer who fired the fatal shot is my age. She made the worst kind of mistake — one that cost an innocent man his life.

And the young man whose life she ended? He was an accountant with PwC, a devoted member of his church and an aspiring leader in the Dallas community. He was a better man than I. A better person than most.

His life was cut short because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But in this case, the wrong place was his own apartment.

I can only imagine how confused and terrified he must have been in his final moments. One minute, he’s sitting on the couch, eating ice cream and watching TV. The next, a stranger is in his apartment, firing a gun at him.

We can try and imagine how we might have reacted in that position. But the end result likely wouldn’t have been any different for us than it was for him.

A few years ago, I was standing in my kitchen slicing a bell pepper when I saw a man scaling my balcony railing and climbing onto my patio.

He was a maintenance worker who was giving the inside of the railing a fresh coat of paint. I had gotten an email alerting me to his presence, and I noticed ladders and workers all around the building when I came home from work an hour or so earlier. So, I should have been prepared for him.

Yet, even with that prior knowledge in hand, I was terrified for a moment when I first saw him.

As he pulled out his paint brush and waved at me, my fear subsided. I went back to slicing the bell pepper.

Still, my mind was racing.

What if that had been an intruder? What would I have done?

I probably would have attacked with the kitchen knife, I concluded. But how well would that strategy have worked?

I’m not trained in hand-to-hand combat, or on using a kitchen knife for any other purpose than slicing food. If an intruder had any skills in these areas, I’d likely be bleeding out on the carpet within seconds.

Yes, even if I mentally prepared for the worst-case scenario — by brandishing my kitchen knife like Crocodile Dundee and obsessively scanning the doors and windows for burglars —  there’s no guarantee I would survive a home invasion.

And if I was caught off-guard in that situation? Heaven help me.

What do I mean by all this? Well, that young accountant who was sitting on his couch after a long day at work? He never had a chance.

He had done everything right in life. But from the minute his door opened and an armed person walked in, he was doomed.

Safety is an illusion.

What does all this mean, in the grand scheme of things?

Everything. And nothing.

There are no patterns we can use to fully protect us from death. There’s nothing we can do to guarantee we will wake up tomorrow.

The timeline of our future is largely out of our control.

It is this vast abyss of the unknown that makes death so scary.

After all, death will be the terminal destination for all of our journeys. Yet, we are in no way equipped to reach that destination.

Every fiber of our being seeks to resist the inevitability of death. Our brains process pain signals from other parts of the body to shield us from lethal hazards. Our hearts pump blood throughout our bodies, keeping us lucid. Our lungs bring in fresh oxygen to fuel these functions.

Death runs counter to all of these processes. It’s fundamentally against our nature.

This is why the will to live is so strong. It’s why we fight, struggle and hang on for dear life when we feel imperiled.

Yet eventually, death will claim us all.

And the sooner we accept this fundamental fact, the better.

I don’t want to think that tomorrow could be my last day. Or the next day. Or the day after that.

But I know that it’s a possibility.

Coming to terms with all of this is oddly freeing.

It provides me a point of reference, as far as worst case scenarios go. And that allows me to shake off those instances when things don’t go as planned.

When my sense of security — emotional, financial or physical — gets knocked down a peg, I don’t despair. For I know, in the grand scheme of things, even my roughest days aren’t so bad.

The worst case scenario hasn’t hit me yet.

It’s not my place to preach as gospel the best way to approach the subject of death.

Fate doesn’t deal all of us the same hand. We are unique, each with our own set of fears and circumstances to navigate.

Yet, I do think there is a benefit to recognizing the presence of our mortality. And to make our decisions accordingly.

If we cease the search for non-existent guarantees — if we stop letting fear of the unknown paralyze us — our uncertain future suddenly becomes much brighter. Our impact on our community becomes that much greater. And the weight on our shoulders becomes that much lighter.

A life well-lived is one not wasted.

The destination might be ambiguous. But that should not keep us from enjoying the ride.

Read and React

According to plan.

We cling to these words like gospel. We strive to stay on schedule, on point, on task. To proceed down the path we’re intended to follow.

If everything goes according to plan, life is good. But all too often, it doesn’t. After all, the saying goes, “God laughs at your plans.”

When things go awry, we find ourselves in a world of trouble. Suddenly, we have 99 problems and can’t even solve one.

Why do we put ourselves through this dance? In part because we can’t bear the alternative.

We can’t stand to live in the moment.

There’s a stigma to living in the moment. One that states those who choose to live this way must throw all cares and responsibilities away.

This couldn’t be further from the truth.

Sure, there are some people who approach life with a Key West attitude. But most people don’t have that luxury. Most people have families, occupations and other pressing concerns to tend to.

Yet even with these concerns, these people can adopt a Live in the Moment mentality — assuming they approach it the right way.

How so?

By following the Read and React framework.

If you’ve played chess — or football —  you’re likely familiar with the Read and React framework. It requires looking at the situation around you and then reacting accordingly in the moment.

While Read and React doesn’t prepare you for what’s coming ahead of time, it does the next best thing. It helps you control the outcome.

By practicing these principles time and again, we become more proficient at reacting to an increasing number of situations — or Reads, if you will. We become seemingly unflappable and action-driven.

Even in the wake of unpredictable outcomes, we can remain prepared. Prepared to respond. Prepared to capitalize. Prepared to lead.

Many of us practice the Read and React framework in our occupations — particularly if we work in a volatile profession. For example, I used it daily while working as a TV news producer. Practicing the framework helped me better adjust to the unpredictable nature of news — and therefore become better at my job.

So why not carry the same principles over to our lives?

After all, everyday life is chock full of unpredictability. Aside from the sun rising in the east and setting in the west, it’s one of the few things we can count on.

Why waste our energy and effort planning every detail of our lives? All that guarantees us is angst and stress when things inevitably go off track.

Instead, why don’t we live in the moment? Why don’t we change our approach to read what’s going on around us and then react accordingly?

It takes less effort to do this than it does to make plans that might never come to fruition. And we’ll be better prepared to handle life’s frequent surprises with poise and precision.

This process will make us more Zen. More relaxed. More pleasant to be around.

In short, it will lead to more positive outcomes.

What’s not to like?

Now, of course, we can’t live in the moment all the time. Planning remains critical for several aspects of our lives.

But let’s keep it to that.

Let’s plan only in situations where it’s only absolutely necessary, and Read and React to everything else.

We’ll be better for it.

Acting With Intention

What are your intentions?

We don’t often hear these words. But when we do, it’s safe to assume there’s a healthy bit of skepticism associated with them.

The mission is unclear — or perhaps unwanted — for the person asking the question. It’s on us to open the curtain and show what we’re really up to.

This cat-and-mouse game makes intentionality a taboo subject. Declaring our intentions outright sets us past the Point of No Return, where we must own our choices and their consequences outright. With this in mind, we prefer to keep our cards close to the vest whenever possible.

It seems like the safe play. But illusions can be deceiving.

You see, hiding our intentions is a lot like hedging our bets. It leads us to cede control in order to avoid responsibility.

When we’re not held accountable for our every action, we feel secure. We can go through our daily routines carefree — as if we’re floating on the clouds. All the while oblivious to how vulnerable we actually are.

For as peaceful as things might look in this scenario, we’re bound to encounter some turbulent moments in our lives. There will be some times where things just aren’t going our way.

When we come across these moments, it doesn’t really matter who or what’s to blame. Our sudden misfortune wipes the smile from our face and puts us in a bad mood instantly.

It turns out all the work we’ve done to avoid ownership of the situation doesn’t actually help us feel better at all when things go south. If anything, it makes us feel weak and helpless.

This is why it’s far better to act with intention whenever possible. To determine our purpose and then deliver on it with everything we do.

This is far from a simple process. After all, intentionality requires a continual commitment between the ears. A laser focus on purpose throughout the dozens of tasks we take on each day.

And this is far from a flawless process. Things will still go awry from time to time. And when they do, we will have to take a long look into the mirror to determine why.

But all that said, this is a critical process. For it gives us the power to better write our narrative. To go after what we seek, instead of waiting for it to be handed to us. To control many of the variables in our daily lives, and better react to those which we can’t control.

Yes, intentionality is a key concept in life. And one that can serve as a huge differentiator.

So, let’s go ahead and find that vigor for what lies ahead of us. Let’s embrace it with a renewed sense of purpose, and a laser-sharp sense of focus.

Let’s act with intention.

Journey or Destination?

Are we there yet?

It’s one of the more cliché images out there: The kid in the back seat of the car asking that question over and over.

This image serves as a maddening reminder — both of the impatience of children and the petulance of adults. For while we might hope our kids will embrace the journey, our actions belie that outcome.

Our society is built off of destinations. We both celebrate and incentivize weddings, graduations and job promotions. We shoot endlessly for notoriety and recognition. We fight as ferociously as lions to achieve, all so we can revel in the spoils of victory.

We pay little attention to the journey we take to get to these destinations; if anything, we consider it a nuisance that delays achievement of our goals.

So why should we expect our young, impressionable children to act any different on a long car ride? Why should we expect anything less than a culture of instant gratification as those children grow up and become Millennials and Gen Z-ers?

We should know better. All we have to do is look in the mirror.

***

Of course, it doesn’t have to be this way. If we can learn to embrace the journey we take to our destination, we’ll have a better example to set. And we’ll get more mileage out of the life we live.

But this requires us to do something terrifying: Stop and reflect.

Instead of only considering the next milestone, we should take a moment to consider where we are at a certain point in time. Then we need consider how we got to that point and how we hope to proceed.

This process will likely make us feel vulnerable; after all, our society has trained us specifically not to feel comfortable with this. But once we scale that mountain of apprehension, we’ll unlock something priceless.

You see, each journey we take tells its own story — one the connects origin and destination. These journeys are rarely linear; there are plenty twists and turns along the way.

And those wrinkles in our path mean everything. The hours of hard work we put in, the bouts of adversity we so bravely face — they help make us stronger, smarter and more determined. They allow us to experience life at its fullest and most real as we shoot for our hopes and dreams. And they make those achievements so much sweeter.

***

We must take the time to connect the dots. To understand that where we’re coming from and where we are matters as much as where we hope to go. To realize that our story is our own, and our journey is its conduit.

Yes, our journey is the key to living a more enlightened life — one that balances a sense of purpose with full awareness of the process that goes into it.

So, the next time you find yourself looking only at your next destination, stop and embrace your path toward it.

The journey matters. Enjoy the ride.

The Little Things

January is an interesting time.

The holidays have come and gone, the calendar has reset, and people are diving into those resolutions.

But while Out With The Old, In With The New is all the rage on these short, chilly winter days, it misses the point.

Yes, much of life is about improvement — improving ourselves and the world at large.

But it’s also about the little things. The moments and sensations that remind us what it is to be alive.

The reflection of sunlight off a passing car on a blue, sunny day. The feeling of hitting the water during the perfect cannonball. The warm fuzzies we get when we see a loved one smile.

These all should matter.

For while these things don’t help us achieve, they allow us to feel. And feeling is what both defines and protects the unique human brand of accomplishment.

Protecting our ability to achieve is vital, as machines are taking over tasks that were once manned by people. With the advent of Machine Learning, computer programs are now able to take on more complicated roles than ever before. While these developments certainly make things more efficient, they also eliminate job opportunities and make prosperity more difficult to come by for many people.

It might sound bleak, but have no fear. The dawn of Skynet is not imminent.

Why? Because machines can’t see the little things.

They can’t feel. They can’t build connections off of empathy. They can’t mend fences or solve the complex issues that the world faces.

They don’t get goosebumps on their forearm or chills up and down their spine. They can’t comprehend delight or despair.

They’re here to do a job, and that’s it.

We’re here for more than that. Not just to live, but also to know how it feels to be alive.

That’s what this shared ride called life is about, what it should be about.

So, take a moment to breathe in that crisp winter air, to gaze at that stunning sunset, to spend more time around the people who make your heart flutter.

The little things are a big deal.

Chasing Time

Age ain’t nothin’ but a number.

I’ve said this dozens of times before, because I know it to be true.

Sure, there are some physiological changes that go on at certain points in our life, and there are certain items we can only buy if we’re of a certain age. But all too often, the number of years we’ve been on the planet has less to do with our place in this world than we think.

Of course, we collectively bungle this truth all too often. That’s why we splurge on the bright orange sports car in response to our “mid-life crisis.” And it’s why we throw ourselves lavish parties for a milestone birthday.

There’s an expectation that the number we’re associated with should impact the way we live our lives. It’s the expectation that leads us to think “Now that I’m 55, I need to become a different person,” and then either accept or rebel against that statement.

This is understandable. After all, our society emphasizes the importance of age on a foundational level. It’s one of the reasons we go to school with kids our age. It’s one of the reasons why we must wait until we’re old enough to be able to vote, drink or rent a car. It’s one of the reasons why amazed by the 24-year-old in upper management, yet look with scorn at the 22-year-old with two kids.

In short, we act as if our society is a meritocracy, with age as its currency. This is why we expend so much effort chasing time — celebrating the passing of the years while letting that occurrence impact our behavior.

If only we could open our eyes.

For the truth is, it’s not how long we live that matters. It’s how we live that does.

How responsible we are. How we treat others. How we carry ourselves. We have an obligation to keep these consistent — and consistently positive.

This obligation remains with us, whether we’re 8 or 80. And our adherence to it can help determine our legacy long after we pass on.

I’ve taken this mantra to heart for several years. It’s one of the reasons why I don’t care much about my birthday (aside from showing gratitude to well-wishers), and why I refuse to let my age dictate my destiny. It’s one of the reasons why I evaluate those around me by their thoughts and actions, rather than their age. And it’s one of the reasons why I always try and act righteously and responsibly.

This is a much more productive and open-minded way to make it through life than worrying about how long we’ve been on the planet. And a productive, open-minded approach is much needed in a time when our society seems more distrustful and divided than ever.

Let’s break down one of these worthless barriers omnipresent in our society. Let’s stop chasing time and start focusing on life.

A Costly Definition

There are so many things that make us great. The power of our mind and the size of our heart can help make the world a better place. And our unique personality traits add a notable zest to our society, much like an extra spice in a Gumbo. Yet, despite all that makes us one-of-a-kind, one factor seems to define all of us.

Money.

Try as we may to avoid it, the amount of money we have dictates our actions and perceptions. We need money to put food on our tables, clothes on our backs and a roof over our heads. Money shapes people’s perception of where we came from, and money defines where we’re going. Sometimes we use money in sickening degrees lavish excess — filling our lives with indulgences we don’t need. Other times, we let our lack of money hold us back — our financial burden inhibiting our lifestyle.

Money has a chokehold on our society as well. Needs are met and problems are solved not for the greater good, but instead because of the money exchange involved. That feeling of surprise when we get something for free — that only serves to underscore this point.

Our glorification of those with money only fans the flames; we’re hard wired to pursue more and more of money — first for ourselves, and then for our families. And while we inherently know that money is not correlated with satisfaction, we keep pursuing it, even when we know we have enough.

It’s a damned shame.

Money is a necessary evil in a capitalist society. But there should be some necessary good as well.

Spreading happiness and goodwill — that doesn’t need to come with a price tag. Spending time with the people we care about — that shouldn’t be burdened by the weight of money. The things we create, ideas we share, hobbies we cultivate, lives we impact — they should be celebrated independent of the financial gains they might bring us.

We will still get our money. And spend it. And then spend some more. But our narrative shouldn’t be imprisoned within the confines of our bank account.

The way we live our lives and contribute to our society — independent of our wallets — is what should define us.

Let’s change the narrative.