If you're young and full of life you absolutely need to be moving like God sent you. Boomers will complain about you guys expecting too much but the whole shut up and pay your dues rigamarole should actually inundate you with a cheeky rage
— du (@thedulab) August 8, 2025
No you will not go above and beyond…
Category: wisdom
THE REMINDERS WE NEVER ASK FOR – BUT ALWAYS NEED

We move fast.
Fill the days.
Chase the next thing.
Then life stops us—
a hospital bed,
an empty chair,
a name we haven’t spoken in too long.
Sickness reminds us how precious health is.
Absence reminds us how much we need each other.
The lesson is always the same:
People first.
Everything else can wait.
BORING LIFE, BORING WORK

Too many people expect original work to come from a life on repeat.
Same desk. Same commute. Same lunch.
And then they wonder why their ideas feel second-hand.
You can’t feed creativity on leftovers.
Every breakthrough you’ve ever admired was sparked by a lived moment—
a trip, a risk, a conversation that could have gone sideways.
Artists, founders, writers—they mine the gold of lived experience,
not the dust of another spreadsheet.
Live wider. Say yes more. Wander without a reason.
Fill the well before you expect to draw from it.
An interesting life is the only soil where interesting work can grow.
“CONSTANT GENTLE PRESSURE”

Hustle is glorified.
But just brute force wears thin.
Push too hard and people push back.
Go too fast and the cracks show.
Intensity without empathy burns out.
Danny Meyer’s secret?
“Constant gentle pressure.”
He didn’t bully his way to success, he nudged it.
Kindly. Repeatedly. Unshakably.
Kindness isn’t weakness.
And pressure doesn’t need to be loud.
Consistency – with heart – is the compound interest of greatness.
YOUR ART COMPLETES

You hesitate to share.
“Too many voices already,” you think.
Then comparison dims your spark.
You wonder if your gift even matters.
So you hold back.
A flower looked across the meadow and thought,
“There are too many here. They don’t need me.”
But the bees still searched.
The wind still made room.
And the field wasn’t complete,
until she bloomed.
Your art doesn’t compete.
It completes.
Your gift isn’t extra.
It’s missing – until you give it.