Better Today Than Yesterday

The Price of a ThingThings are expensive. Some things are cheap. Most of us know what we’re paying in dollars. We’re less honest about what we’re paying in life.I’ve paid a lot for what I am now. The good and the bad. The jobs, the travel, the adventure, and now the wonderful life that is today.Some of it worth it. Some of it not. We’ll spend our very selves to get things we think we need. Then one day sit quietly under a porch while it’s raining wondering where we spent well and where we didn’t.I’ve paid for being right. That one has cost me. I’ve damaged relationships trying to win arguments. Needing the other person to see it my way. I think I’ve mostly paid the right price to keep the relationships that matter.But mostly is a word that should keep you up at night.I lost someone close to me not long ago. There’s paperwork and logistics, and underneath all of it, there’s seeing the things you know they loved. A cardinal at the feeder. A ghost wink. There is something harder in that wink.What didn’t I pay. Our relationship needed work. I wasn’t happy with their end of it. But now that they’re gone, I’m realizing something. Maybe they needed more help than I was willing to give. Or able to see. I think they were managing things they couldn’t move past. And my frustration, and anger, didn’t allow me to see that.I was too busy keeping score of what I wasn’t getting to notice what they couldn’t give. I’d trade a lot of things to have another chance. To ask different questions. To try to help in a way that I didn’t. I’d probably trade most things.I don’t know that it would’ve worked. I’m honest enough to say that. Some things are beyond our reach. Some things aren’t.All the hours I spent being frustrated were hours I could have spent trying to understand. The price of my frustration was clarity. And maybe closeness. Both gone now.The price of a thing is life. Not money. Life. And the question isn’t whether we’ll pay. We will. Every day. The question is whether we’re paying attention to what we’re buying.I’ve gotten this wrong, a lot. I’m still getting it wrong.But it’s spring now. No condolences needed. Really. The daffodils are up. More winks. Happy ones. No grief here, friends. Just life. And we are all trying to spend it well.Take care. Be good. -Kelly This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit kellyvohs.substack.com

Valet took the car. We walked in and it was dark. My eyes adjusted. The front room was smaller than I thought. I should’ve worn a jacket. Then I remembered. Princess Buttercup is behind me. They aren’t looking at me anyway. She’s got the room. She always does.The host took us around the corner. The room opened up, but got darker. A beautiful booth was waiting for us. We were excited. My son had already picked out what he was going to order. The family group chat got peppered with menu screens, yellow circles drawn around what he wanted.This is my friend’s place. I think he’s one of the best in the world at this. He’s my age. Actually a year older. We’ve known each other for 25 years. He’s on my 3am list. I know if I call him at 3am he’s in the car before I’m done explaining what I need.He’ll turn 50 next year. For someone as successful as him, the last place you’d expect to find him is on a restaurant floor. Sitting tables, pulling chairs, checking dishes in the pass. Pushing some back. But there he is. That’s what he’s doing.The old idea was “management by walking around.” Get out there. See people. Connect. Be human. Leadership requires connection. But walking around isn’t enough anymore. You have to do the work.As organizations get more complex, people graduate up through layers of management by staying long enough. Eventually they don’t actually know what the job is anymore. They think they do. They don’t. When technology is changing and the market is changing, you can’t tell your team “go do this thing I heard about on a podcast.”You have to go do the thing. Learn the software. Close the sale. Cook the dish. Clear the table. Write the code. Talk to the angry customer.Two reasons.First, the old reason. The team sees you will work. You’re not in your ivory tower. Good. But that’s the smaller reason.The bigger one: you actually understand what you’re asking them to do. Not just what. Not just why. How. See the mechanics. What’s working, what’s not. What’s hard, what doesn’t matter anymore.Most leaders miss that.And if you want people to follow you, they need to know you understand.This sounds simple. Go do the work. But do you? Do you really understand both what you’re trying to do and how it gets done?If you haven’t been in the field lately, chances are you don’t. Not anymore.It used to be called “management by walking around.” I think it should be “leadership by working around.”My friend’s restaurant. The reason it’s packed on a Saturday at 5PM? He doesn’t walk around. He works around. He’s relentless about the team, the product, and the execution.I’m gonna make sure I do less walking around. More working around.Take care. Be Good. -Kelly This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit kellyvohs.substack.com

“You are more than halfway to 90.”One of the kids said that the other day. For some reason, it doesn’t bother me. Gramma is 93 and still going. I do think about how I use my time. Feels like a fight to do everything that needs doing.Maybe it’s a better calendar system. Maybe it’s the 18th to-do app, integrated with a meeting transcription tool, connected with another that surfaces everything each morning. There’s no shortage of 20-somethings on YouTube who have it figured out. A tomato timer. A color-coded calendar. An index card. Or fifty. What they haven’t realized is that we won’t get to everything. There is peace in coming to grips with that. If you understand that, you stop trying to make it all work. You let go a little. And just do.If our life lasts as long as the average person, we have about 30,000 sunrises. As someone said to me recently, “the truth gets lost in averages.” Maybe we should care less about how we manage our time, and more about what we fill it with. Not efficiency. Not output. Use. Because if we fill it with the right things, it will fill us up.The most efficient me will never beat the most energized me.My phone has never run out of time. It runs out of charge. Plug it in and it works. Simple. I’m not so different.What gives me energy?* A long run on a hot day. T-shirt feels like you jumped in a pool kind of run.* A real conversation. Talk about real things.* A sunrise. A cup of coffee. Maybe together. Maybe with someone. Maybe not.* A problem that matters. Doesn’t have to be big. Just important.* An adventure with people I love. Exploring. Learning.* A person who gives more than they take.* Work that helps. When someone feels it.Do you remember the movie Cocoon? If you’re over forty, probably.Aliens come. Their cocoons are at the bottom of a pool. A group old timers start swimming in it. They don’t know why, but they feel young again. More alive. More themselves. The pool gives them something they didn’t know they were missing. I keep thinking I’d love to take Gramma for a swim in it. Maybe we could kick the walker.What they didn’t realize was that their swimming was draining the aliens inside those cocoons. Giving energy costs something. People don’t burn out because they run out of time. They burn out because they run out of energy. And usually, hope.These days I’m less worried about how efficient I am with my time. I’m more worried about where I spend it. Will it charge me or drain it? Will the people I do it with give energy or take it? If you’re not in the right place with the right people, it doesn’t matter how long you plug your phone in. It won’t charge.Hard work will make you tired. Like a good run. The right work, with the right people, will make you want to do it again tomorrow.And sometimes our job is to be the pool, to give people the charge they need at that moment. Like one of those little battery backups for your phone you drag through the airport.Time matters. Energy matters. Only so many sunrises. If you can get both working together, maybe that’s the key.Take care. Be good. -Kelly This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit kellyvohs.substack.com

I heard once: you don’t always need new books. Sometimes, you need the old ones again.So, I’ve been re-reading favorites. In one of those, I found the metaphor of the horse and the rider.The rider is the rational self. The logical part of you. The horse, your emotions. Those emotions are your fuel for action. The energy and power that moves you. Sometimes helpful, sometimes not.Some riders can be very controlling. Thighs squeezed tight against the horse, reins pulled close. Others let their emotions own their direction. The horse goes where it wants.When the rider and horse work in balance, you get the best version of you. You harness that emotional energy in a good direction.It makes me think of advice I got from an old timer once.We were in the desert. Crisp, cool air. Wonderful early morning colors. He said, “When you have to go uphill, lean forward. The horse knows how to get up. Don’t try to control her, just let her walk up one step at a time. She may slip a little, but she’ll recover.”The funny part of all this? When I went searching for the original version of this horse and rider story, I found BTTY No. 89. I’ve shared this story with you before, but forgot. So, that’s me sitting here shaking my head. A lost lesson. I’m glad it’s back.Take care. Be good.–Kelly This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit kellyvohs.substack.com

“Ego is about who’s right. Truth is about what’s right.” —Tribe of MentorsI was chatting with Princess Buttercup the other night.She’s built an incredible business. It has a real impact on people. Reflecting on something I was dealing with, I said to her, “I wonder if there are only two states when running a business. On the floor in the fetal position or euphoria.”When you’re in the thick of building something, most days are just a series of problems to solve. And the bigger your responsibility, the more those problems sit somewhere on the spectrum of hard, bad, or maybe even cataclysmic. That last one is rare. Most things are solvable. Problem solving is what we do for a living—all of us. We have jobs because there are problems to solve. And while most people don’t like finding problems, not finding them is worse. Finding a problem is finding a place to get better. To make the business more valuable. Or to shore up an area where you’re exposed. So, relish the new problems. They’re a gift.Early in my career, I felt I had to solve the problems myself. Maybe that’s natural. The younger we are, the more we think we know. Or maybe we’re just less willing to look foolish. That was me. But holding a position doesn’t mean you have all the answers. Usually, there’s someone closer to the pain who sees the way through.At some point, I realized the job of a leader isn’t to have all the answers. It’s to make decisions and make sure the team has what it needs to execute. Leadership begins when the path is unclear. Take out the flashlight, or machete, or whatever, and go. Sometimes that direction leads to an outcome that’s not ideal. But you still decide.From all of this I know I’m not responsible for the answers. I’m responsible for the decisions.I’ve still got a long way to go on managing my ego, my need for approval, and my fear of letting people down. But my default now is to put the people closest to the problem in the room and ask, “What do we want to do?”When the answer isn’t clear, people will disagree. Ideally, they will.During a leadership meeting at GM, Alfred Sloan once asked, “I take it we are all in complete agreement on the decision here?” When the room nodded, he said, “Then I propose we postpone further discussion until our next meeting, to give ourselves time to develop disagreement and perhaps gain some understanding of what the decision is all about.”That’s when the real work begins. Because conflict over the solution is healthy. What’s not often spoken is this: there are two kinds of conflict.Personal conflict and problem conflict.Personal conflict shows up when we’re protecting something. Sometimes it’s internal: fear, insecurity, the need to look smart or stay in control. Sometimes it’s external: status, power, recognition, resources. Either way, it pulls focus. It keeps us from listening. It turns the conversation into defense instead of discovery.Problem conflict is grounded in standards and craft. Driven by the desire to get to the right answer, not be the right answer. That’s what people mean when they talk about “healthy conflict.” It’s not about ego. It’s about better. It doesn’t attack people. It attacks the problem.The hard part is that these two are often tangled together. We think we’re having a good, healthy debate, but what we’re really doing is protecting something—usually ourselves. And often we don’t even realize it.I’m working on that. On recognizing when I’m in the way. Most of the time it’s not intentional. It’s just ego. Or fear. Or maybe I’m just tired. But when I let that lead, I stop listening. I get stuck defending. And nothing moves.We can’t forget—or ignore—that people show up differently in conflict. Some go quiet. Some get loud. Some need to talk it through and might sound like they’re rambling. Others hold back until they feel safe enough to speak. That doesn’t mean they’re not paying attention. It just means they process things differently.If you want the best answer, you need the whole room.Different perspectives. Different styles. All heard. All understanding. All contributing. That’s how you get somewhere.So here’s where I’ve landed.Conflict is good. But it has to be the right kind, and we need to be aware of the messy middle when personal and problem conflict overlap.When we check our ego and fear at the door, not only will everyone be happier, but we will get better answers. Importantly, we can’t control other people, but we can control how we show up.More truth. Less defense.More listening. Less protecting.More understanding. Less justifying.That’s where better lives.Take care, friend. Be good.—Kelly This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit kellyvohs.substack.com

"Bravery is a subjective virtue measured by how much insecurity, vulnerability, and resistance have been overcome when you’re afraid." -Mark MatousekI keep a journal.One of my favorite things about journaling is looking back on the same day from other years. Some days there are no entries. Today, there were 17. One jumped out.I'm in NYC.Mixed emotions.I'm a little tight. Not sure why.But I just read something that struck me.We all have a natural desire to:* Believe we're in control of our time. To operate with free will. * Be intelligent. Even if only in our way. * Be good(Those are from Robert Greene)Anything that challenges those beliefs makes us feel trapped, foolish, or morally wrong. That hurts. It creates frustration, sadness, maybe even shame.That was two years ago. As I write this, I'm not in NYC. Lots of other things have changed. Kids went to college, jobs changed, and a few other things too—some painful, some joyful. I think I'm better than I was that day. At least a little more clear-eyed. And those filters still feel relevant. Still helpful.TimeWhen I protect my time for what matters most, I’m better. Happier. And so are the people around me. I can’t control it all, but I need to control what I can.If I am not intentional with my time, someone else will be. The cost is real. Doing the wrong things, missing what matters, or showing up without the energy to make it count.Sometimes it means another meeting. Sometimes it means solitude. Or showing up fully at family dinner. I have a strong drive to keep charging, but I’ve learned I also need to stop and recharge.I don't have all the answers. But I know this: saying yes to everything does not work. We need to normalize saying no if we want to use this resource well.IntelligenceYou might be book smart, emotionally intelligent, or my personal favorite, high in CQ, Courage Intelligence. Maybe, if you’re one of the fortunate, you’re graced with all three.Some people worry about being smart. I know I have. I still do sometimes. But I think most of the world is working to avoid looking foolish.The ability to look foolish to learn is a superpower.It's a trade. You give up the arrogance that you might know everything, and in exchange for the humility that you probably don't know much at all.When we shift from trying to have all the answers to simply trying to find the right one, that is probably the most productive place we can be.GoodnessThis one hits for me. Most of us want to be seen as good, but what we really want is to be accepted. Even to be loved. This is where we give people the most power. Our actions or inaction are viewed through their lens, their mood, and all the other complexities that come with being human. Our fears, stories, and expectations get tangled up with theirs.Am I a good friend? A good partner? A good leader? A good person?“Fail” at this, and it pushes on identity. When that sense of goodness feels shaken, it’s worth asking more questions.Did I actually do something wrong? Am I being misunderstood?Or is the other person dealing with something of their own, and this isn’t really about me? More often than not, that’s the case.What I’ve found is that when do I get it wrong, it’s rarely about intent. It’s about impact. I meant well. It didn’t land well. That can be painful. But it’s rarely permanent.Being wrong or making a mistake doesn’t mean you’re not loved. Or even liked. It doesn’t mean you’re not good. It just means there’s work to do.When I feel off-center, I'm trying to slow down and ask better questions.* What's going on with my time?* Am I chasing someone else’s approval?* Am I letting their reaction shape how I see myself?Most of the time, they’re just working through their own stuff.We all are.Take care. Be good.—KellyMore on Courage Intelligence (CQ): This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit kellyvohs.substack.com

“Responsibility means recognizing both pleasure and price, action and consequence, then making a choice.” — Dan MillmanThere’s a word most people don’t want to be associated with.It sounds sharp. Dangerous. Maybe even wrong. But try building anything that matters without it.In 1961, psychologist Arnold Buss described two kinds of aggression. One hostile, driven by anger and meant to hurt. The other instrumental and driven by purpose. This doesn’t come with rage, but intention. A response, not reaction. This is focused energy that is not violent but has no apologies for pursuit.Be a good partner. Raise strong kids. Build something that matters. That takes aggression.Aggression in the service of love. Aggression in the pursuit of truth. Aggression in the protection of what matters.It’s not just helpful, it’s required.The word relentless resonates with me too. But like grit or resilience, it feels safe. If you call someone resilient that is usually a compliment. It means you show up, don’t quit, take the pain and move anyway. That’s necessary, but not the full story. And not enough.Sometimes, banging your head against an obstacle doesn’t move it. Maybe that’s when the relentless call on aggression.Not recklessness. Risk. Attack.Call someone aggressive and most of the world flinches. And maybe that’s the point. Fitting in feels safe and that’s why most people do it. Safety in numbers. But you risk getting stuck in someone else’s discomfort. And that can keep you small.Show me a parent whose child is threatened or sick. Or a parent of a child with special needs. They won’t just endure. They’ll fight. They’ll be relentless, yes. But they’ll also get sharp. Fast.Because when something truly matters, you don’t wait. It’s resolve fueled by a kind of impatient patience. The kind that acts.Or think about the neighbor who loads up a truck and drives 500 miles after a hurricane to help people they’ve never met. That’s not persistence or grit, that’s aggressive action.What’s the cost of worrying about someone else’s labelProbably a lot. More than I’m willing to pay.You’ve seen it used well. Steady. Unassuming. But when it’s time, they move with something stronger than relentlessness. Something that penetrates the problem and is hard to ignore.When it’s paired with humility, it becomes something rare. A kind of aggressive humility.It’s the willingness to pursue what matters without needing the spotlight. A confidence that doesn’t posture. It’s not about proving something. It’s about finding the right way, not their way.It’s about results.I’ve worked with people like that. I’m married to one. I think we might be raising a few.To do something that counts, you’ll need to be aggressive. With intention. Not emotion.And without apology.Take care, friend. Be good. —Kelly This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit kellyvohs.substack.com

To bear trials with a calm mind robs misfortune of its strength. -SenecaYesterday I met someone who runs fifty 1:1s a week.I also know someone who does zero.Both are sure their way works.Both are probably right.I used to say leading and managing is complex. Because people are complex.Today, I’m not sure that’s right.I think it’s simple. Just sometimes hard.There is no right answer. There is just right now.With the information you have. And what your team needs. Usually, the regret isn’t saying it or doing it.It’s wishing you had.Hard decisions.Hard conversations.Don’t worry about applause. Worry about what’s right.Sometimes you’ll question yourself. That’s normal.Just don’t time travel.Worry and regret are just misuses of your imagination.What matters is staying in it.Go.Exploring. Asking. Trying. Learning. Questioning. Improving. Facing. Acting.That’s the job.Not knowing everything. Not having the perfect answer.But doing the hard things.Because once you stop doing that, it’s over.Take care, friend.Be good.—Kelly This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit kellyvohs.substack.com

“Abraham Lincoln wasn’t born on Mount Rushmore. He didn’t arrive in the world with his face on the penny. He came as we all do — a bare-gurgling bundle of possibility. Born, as we are, free — within some limits — to make of himself what he would.” - William Lee MillerWe ran out of water.We lived on an island. And like many places not connected to the underground magic of modern life — city water, especially — you ran out of things. Our house sat on what used to be a coral reef a few million years ago. You couldn’t just dig a well.I guess you could dig a well. But the result was brackish — basically nature’s way of saying, “Nice try.”Under our house was a cistern. A big concrete box that collected rainwater. That was our supply. If it didn’t rain, we ran out. Simple as that.So you learned to live with limits. For us, that meant what my stepfather called the Cruzan Shower. You got two minutes. That was it.Fast-forward a few decades. I’m fighting different battles now — mostly with teenagers who treat loading or unloading the dishwasher like a human rights violation.These days, I take my time in the shower. Rain from the ceiling. Somewhat indulgent. And a few minutes in, the mirror fogs up.I’m still standing there. But I can’t see myself.And lately I’ve been wondering — how much of the rest of my life is the same?I think I’m seeing clearly. But I’m just staring through fog. It feels clear. But it’s not. It’s just familiar — and familiar is often unreality.Obscured by ego. By fear. By defensiveness. Those three love to show up uninvited — usually right when something breaks.Suddenly, it’s everyone else’s fault. The timeline was off. The tools weren’t right. Mercury’s in retrograde. Anything to avoid saying, “Maybe I missed something. I was wrong.”That’s self-preservation. But it’s not understanding. And it won’t get you unstuck. And it certainly won’t help you do your best work.The more I sit with it, the more I think the most important thing in life is understanding. Understanding how the world actually works — and how it doesn’t. What I control. What I don’t. What’s true and what’s not. How other people see things — and why they might see it differently.Because it’s tempting to bend reality into what I want it to be. But the work is to see it for what it is. Because only then can I take the next right action. The next good action.That kind of clarity — the willingness to face what’s true — I saw it in Lincoln.You already know the myth: the dirt floor cabin, the rise to the presidency. What I hadn’t fully appreciated was how relentless he was about learning. Reading. Doing. Questioning. Listening. Understanding. Sure, ambition got him moving. Maybe it gets me moving too. But I think understanding is what helped him make the turn.Ambition became purpose. Because he understood. He saw clearly. It wasn’t about him.You can’t do what’s required if ego and fear are superglued to your eyeballs. If you’re stuck in the reptile brain that’s been trying to protect you for the last few million years, you can’t interact with the reality of today.That’s the work.I think it comes down to my emotional maturity. And that’s mostly about understanding my emotions — knowing what helps and what doesn’t. Seeing when I’m being defensive. When I’m not. When I’m open. When I’m actually listening — or just trying to win.Understanding makes that possible. It helps me move beyond ego and into something quieter. Out of that small, rigid room in my head — and onto open ground. A wide plain. Green grass. Puffy clouds. Room to breathe. Room to see.But it doesn’t just happen. I have to catch myself. I have to sit with it.Am I seeing what’s real? Or indulging in something more comfortable?Clarity doesn’t arrive all at once. It burns off — like fog in the morning.Most problems in life aren’t technical — they’re interpersonal. And the person I interact with the most… is me.It’s hard to have that relationship if the mirror’s foggy.The job is to clear it. To see myself for what I am — and the role I play with everyone around me.The truth. The ego. The fear. The deception. The progress. The good. The bad. The potential.Understanding reality — that’s the mission.It takes time. Sometimes help. Sometimes pain.But it starts with reflection.Take care, friend. Be good. Bye.—Kelly This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit kellyvohs.substack.com

When I think back to times and places that were difficult, they usually seem not as bad as when I was there. There is a reason for this, and it’s called Fading Affect Bias. But first, a memory. We were deployed in Baghdad and in the midst of it. 18-hour days of grind. I’d beat the sun up and stumble over to the secure room we set up to access highly classified material. The coffee wasn’t great, but if Folgers was good enough for grandad, it was good enough for me. We’d push pixels, people, and ourselves on that deployment. It was hard. I also knew I was pushing myself pretty hard. Too hard, in hindsight. Then one day, a buddy on the team looked at me and said, “Hey, I gotta tell you, you have to stop being so negative.”He was a friend, and I love him for having the courage to snap me back to reality. There was a lot wrong, like the hole in the roof from a rocket and the persecution happening all around us. And the Army, which comes with lots to criticize - bureaucracy, red tape, bad food, low pay, IEDs, and laziness. Some of that, particularly the last one, would be a reason to get out several years later. Almost every day, I miss it. I miss the dust in your nose, the adrenaline at the gate, and unknown corners - real and metaphorical. I miss the new cultures, the lessons, and the flatbread with all the fixings from a little window in Sulamaniyah. I miss the places few have been and the wide-eyed “thank you” when you change someone’s life with something the Department of Defense marked for the rubbage bin. Not to mention fierce friendship, the ‘embrace the suck’ attitude, and the ‘just don’t quit’ mantras. I’ve been curious why I remember it more fondly than when I was there. It turns out there is a psychological reason, and it’s called Fading Affect Bias (FAB). With Fading Affect Bias, negative emotions associated with an event tend to fade faster than positive ones. This fading can start as soon as the same day. When something terrible happens, or I make a mistake, I drag it around for a while. Over time, it fades. It won’t all fade and often comes back when we don’t want it. At night lying there in the dark, a smell that instantly transports you or any of 1,000 other triggers. “Dude, stop”Fifteen years later, I remember vividly that moment riding in that grey SUV with the gold stripe down the side. My buddy looked over at me and said, “Dude, stop.”What I was complaining about didn’t matter. Were there frustrating things? Yes. Did I think command could do more? Yes. Did I think some guys weren’t pulling their weight? Unequivocally. Rarely does complaining make it better. By complaining, we are complicit. Not only do I shake my head at the things that frustrated me due to their pettiness, but frankly, I’m embarrassed. I’m in the middle of a book by one of my favorite writers, and he’s sharing tales of WWI. The trenches, the starvation, and wave after wave of men walking into machine gun fire. Now there’s a reason to complain. There I was with a chow hall, a mostly hot shower, and coffee each morning. Yet, I dared to complain. People were barely making it a few hundred meters away, and I had the US Government’s full force to ensure I had what I needed. And my family was at home, safe. Yet, I complained. Note to SelfWe will lose things, friends, and dreams. Complaining rarely makes it better. Often, it makes it worse. Usually, there are worse things happening to better people. When you find yourself starting to see all that is wrong, stop and flip it over. There’s likely more good than your lens is letting you see. Clean it. I’m grateful for the fade, but more importantly, I’m grateful for friends that call me out. I’m also grateful that it doesn’t all fade. There are too many lessons and moments I don’t want to lose, including this one. Take care, friends. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit kellyvohs.substack.com

"Beauty is the harvest of presence." —David WhyteWhat is beauty?It’s the worn middle of your grandfather’s desk.Snow in the spring.A mother on a long flight.A sip of something warm in the morning.Walking through the leaves in the fall.A child laughing.My child smiling, finding their strength.Sitting by the fire with her, the wave of hair falling across her left eye.The green light when you need it.An old book. A new book. A sharp pencil.Standing with a friend under the soft shelter of a building, out of the hard wind.The taste of salt in the air.Opening your eyes underwater.These are the real things.Like the imperfect apple tree that has survived more winters than I have.A cold creek.Open roads.Puffy clouds on a hot summer day.A clear sky stretched wide over the desert.Being forgiven.Finding the maturity to forgive.The imperfect friend who always shows up, wrinkles and all.That’s beauty to me — the real things.Beauty is truth.It’s witnessing.Recognizing.Receiving.Connecting.Accepting.Struggling.Walking slowly through reality.If beauty is truth, maybe the opposite of beauty is pretending —the hollow things, the times we perform and rush instead of simply being.Life is a series of moments,and all it takes is a moment to be beautiful.I’m still thinking about this.Thought I’d share.Take care. Be good.—Kelly This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit kellyvohs.substack.com

"Stand still. Let the forest find you…What kind of adult do I want to be?" —Jerry ColonnaSome people are miserable at work. Others love it. Same job. Same company. Wildly different experiences.One person comes alive while another counts the minutes until they can escape.We tend to blame the person. Or the job. But what if we’re missing something deeper?What if the real difference is alignment? the right combination of elements that make work feel energizing instead of draining?The right work is about combining the right elements so your work generates energy instead of drains it. The Foundational ElementsI’ve found that six foundational elements determine whether work gives you energy—or takes it away:1. PeopleThe humans around you shape your experience more than any policy, perk, or paycheck.Do you genuinely like them? Do they challenge you? Support you? Make you better?I’ve seen people stay in objectively difficult jobs because they loved their colleagues. And I’ve seen people leave dream roles because the relationships were toxic.We're wired for connection. When it's missing, everything feels harder.2. PurposeYour why. And no, it doesn’t have to be changing the world.Your purpose might be providing for your family. Building something lasting. Mastering a craft. Creating beauty. Or simply the satisfaction of solving interesting problems.What matters is that it resonates with you, not what sounds impressive at a dinner party.3. ProblemsEvery job is just a set of problems to solve. The key question is: Do you love solving those problems?Because, the problems will keep coming back. And good thing, when they stop your job goes away. Some people come alive tackling technical puzzles. Others thrive on human complexity. When the fit is right, you jump out of bed because you want to keep solving those problems. It’s not about ambition, it’s about energy. If the problems drain you, that’s a signal. If they energize you, that’s everything.4. PowerCall it your superpower. The things you're good at and energized by.When you're in that zone, time flies. I get lost behind the camera, studying the light, the craft, and the science. It doesn’t drain me. It energizes me.But if you're stuck doing something you hate and aren’t good at? That’s a recipe for burnout.I urge patience here. Your superpower isn’t always obvious, and it can take time, trial, and honest reflection to uncover it. But once you do, everything shifts.This is the most energizing, or depleting, element. Ignore it at your own risk.5. CultureCulture is how people behave: what’s rewarded, tolerated, or punished.It's shaped by values, pace, and expectations. If you spend energy pretending to be something else to fit in, that’s wasted energy. That’s energy you aren’t spending on the work. No wonder you are drained. Critical is how your work can harmonize with your life. Can you do what needs doing outside of work too? Can you unplug to recharge? Can you be honest? 6. CompensationYes, money matters. But compensation goes beyond your paycheck.There’s economic compensation: What hits your bank account.Emotional compensation: recognition, appreciation, feeling like your work matters.And experiential compensation: learning, growth, flexibility, and meaningful challenges.All three matter. And the right mix will shift as your life evolves.Periodic ShiftsYour needs will shift, and your priorities will change. And that’s not weakness. It’s growth. But we have to walk our own path. Unfortunately, many of us end up following expected paths.Someone might be a natural artist but ends up in finance because it’s “safe.” Just because you can win at a certain game doesn’t mean you should play it.One day, you wake up with a LinkedIn profile, a mortgage, and a quiet sense that your life doesn't fit. The elements aren’t linedup. Facing MisalignmentSo what do you do with that feeling?It’s easy to blame.“The culture is toxic.”“My boss is a jerk.”“I don’t like these problems.”“I don’t have a choice.”“I’m at a disadvantage…I don’t have those options.”Sometimes those things are true. Often, they’re excuses. Usually, discomfort is the price of growth.From struggle comes strength. Search for good struggle. Struggle without progress is just suffering.You don’t have to suffer, that’s a choice. The first is worth leaning into.The second is a sign it’s time to change.Be honest, especially with yourself. That’s the person we lie to the most often. The Right Combination of ElementsIndividually, the elements matter. But it’s the right combination at the right rations that can create something powerful. Like hydrogen and oxygen: useful on their own, but together, they become water. Life-giving. Essential.Work is the same. When your elements align—even imperfectly—they create energy. Meaning. Motion.The perfect job doesn’t exist. Every role involves tradeoffs.But work doesn’t have to be something you endure. It can be meaningful. Rewarding. Even wonderful. The right fit for you, right now? That exists.When it fits, the work is still challenging but it doesn’t drain you endlessly. It energizes more than it depletes. You feel pulled toward it, not just pushed through it.And when that’s not happening? It’s not always a signal to leave. It’s a signal to investigate. To realign what you can. To grow where needed. And yes sometimes to make a change.Because the right work, your right work, is out there.Not perfect. Not easy. But meaningful. And energizing.Take care. Be good. —Kelly This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit kellyvohs.substack.com