Category: Self Development

  • Velocity, Acceleration, and Safety: Why Humans React to Change, Not Motion

    Velocity, Acceleration, and Safety: Why Humans React to Change, Not Motion

    Human conflict is often a response to changes in tempo rather than to the actions themselves.

    • We argue morality when the issue is tempo.
    • We argue legality when the issue is acceleration.
    • We argue intent when the issue is predictability.

    By naming acceleration as a distinct variable, we gain something valuable: the ability to describe discomfort without immediately assigning blame.

    Instead of asking:

    • Is this right or wrong?
    • Is this allowed or forbidden?
    • Is this good or bad?

    We can first ask:

    • Has the rate of change exceeded the system’s capacity to adapt?

    That question is calmer.
    More precise.
    And often more honest.

    Humans implicitly assume continuity unless signaled otherwise.

    We expect the world to proceed tomorrow at roughly the same pace it did yesterday. We assume people, institutions, technologies, and environments will behave with some degree of temporal consistency. This assumption is so deep that we rarely notice it – until it’s violated.

    And when it is violated, we don’t experience it as “a change in velocity.”

    We experience it as threat.

    Not moral threat.
    Not legal threat.
    Not even intentional threat.

    Just instability.

    In physics, there’s a principle so basic it’s often overlooked: constant velocity is indistinguishable from rest.

    According to Newton’s First Law, an object moving at a constant speed in a straight line experiences no net force. From inside the system, nothing feels like it’s happening. There is no signal. No disturbance. No information.

    Only when velocity changes, such as when an object accelerates or decelerates, does force become detectable.

    Acceleration is motion made visible.

    This distinction matters far beyond physics, because humans operate the same way.

    Speed Itself Isn’t the Issue — Speed of Change Is

    People notice when things are moving faster or slower than they are comfortable with, but they have blunt, imprecise words to objectively measure what they are feeling:

    • “Things are moving too fast”
    • “Progress is too slow”
    • “Technology is accelerating”
    • “The government is overreaching”
    • “This relationship is going nowhere”

    Speed alone is rarely what’s being perceived:

    • If something moves quickly and has always moved quickly, it feels normal.
    • If something moves slowly and has always moved slowly, it also feels normal.

    What humans detect (emotionally and immediately) is acceleration: A sudden increase or decrease in tempo is the signal that something has changed, and that signal is interpreted first as a safety question, not as a value judgment.

    Imagine a car at rest next to you. You likely pay no attention to it. But the moment it begins to move towards you, you notice.

    That’s safety at rest and risk in motion.

    Acceleration as a Universal Disturbance Signal

    Across domains, the same pattern appears.

    Relationships

    • A relationship that escalates steadily often feels safe, even if it moves faster than average.
    • A sudden jump — declarations of love, commitment, or permanence without ramp-up — feels aggressive or destabilizing.

    Conversely, a relationship that stalls after steady forward motion triggers discomfort. The issue isn’t slowness. It’s deceleration without explanation.

    Law and Governance

    • Laws that exist but are enforced predictably fade into the background.
    • When enforcement accelerates abruptly — raids, sweeps, sudden crackdowns — the reaction is fear and resistance, even among people who accept the law itself.

    The disturbance comes from rate change, not legality.

    Technology and AI

    • Gradual capability improvements are absorbed without panic.
    • Sudden leaps — systems doing in days what humans expect to take years — trigger unease, even when no explicit harm occurs.

    The system hasn’t become immoral.
    It has become temporally discontinuous with human expectations.

    Physical Space and Machines

    • Robots that move at consistent, human-scaled tempos feel safe.
    • Robots that jerk, hesitate unpredictably, or suddenly accelerate feel dangerous or uncanny.

    Not because of intelligence — but because acceleration breaks continuity.

    Humans Instinctively Know Physics

    Newton’s laws describe physical systems, but they also reveal something about perception.

    Force is only detectable through acceleration.
    Humans respond to the world the same way.

    When velocity is constant, we relax.
    When velocity changes, we pay attention.
    When acceleration exceeds our ability to predict outcomes, we experience danger.

    This is not emotional.
    It’s structural.

    It’s how biological systems maintain orientation in time.

    Why This Matters

    Acceleration is not inherently bad.

    • Emergency response requires it.
    • Innovation sometimes depends on it.
    • Stalled systems occasionally need a jolt.

    But unacknowledged acceleration (change without signaling), without ramp-up, or without context – is what breaks trust.

    Humans don’t fear motion. They fear unexplained force.

    Call to Action

    We need a new, additional dimension of thinking objectively about problems and I believe that dimension needs to be “velocity and acceleration”.

    By naming acceleration as a distinct dimension of analysis, we gain a way to examine instability before it is moralized, politicized, or personalized.

    When we call out the velocity, it makes implicit emotions explicit and gives us a lever for change.

    Instead of just saying, “Stop doing that, it’s wrong,” we can be more specific and say, “You’re moving faster than the rest of the group. The rate of change is too great. In order for me to feel safe, I need you to slow down.”

    Some people already do this. Others can learn to use the tool.

  • Authority, Winning, and the Cost of Staying Adjacent

    This morning clarified something I’ve been circling for years but never named plainly: I have optimized for system impact, not personal authority.

    I’m very good at building, fixing, and stabilizing systems. I improve organizations, help leaders think more clearly, and quietly make things work. But I’ve done this while standing adjacent to power instead of occupying it:

    • Advisor instead of owner
    • Architect instead of authority
    • Reliable #2 energy instead of explicit responsibility with upside

    That pattern used to make sense, but it is no longer congruent with who I am.

    Earlier in life, staying adjacent gave me flexibility, safety, and moral insulation. I could contribute without exposure. I could help without risking visible failure. I could preserve an identity built around service, intelligence, and restraint. It worked—until it didn’t.

    What’s changed is not my capacity, but the gap between who I am and how I’m positioned. That gap is now emotionally expensive. It shows up as frustration, quiet resentment, and the sense that I’m under-leveraged. At this stage, capability without outcomes doesn’t read as humility anymore—it reads as incongruence.

    The hardest realization is that not winning has been an emotional strategy. Losing—or at least not fully claiming victory—kept me morally clean and relationally safe. But the cost was real: borrowed authority, capped upside, and leadership that I donate instead of own.

    What once looked virtuous is now avoidance wearing a service costume.

    Here’s the reframe that landed hardest for me: for someone like me, winning is load-bearing.

    When capable people refuse authority, less capable systems stay in charge and entropy increases. Responsibility without power becomes the norm.

    Winning, rightly defined, isn’t dominance or ego—it’s stewardship. It’s aligning authority with responsibility so systems actually stabilize (instead of limping along).

    This internal shift then let me connect directly to recent geographic and social friction. A regional analysis made it obvious to me that I’m trying to regulate myself in environments that don’t reward execution or ownership. La Crosse and similar Driftless towns prioritize values, relationships, and moral signaling over outcomes. That’s not wrong—but it’s costly for someone wired to build, ship, and take responsibility.

    Madison and Rochester stand out not because they’re glamorous, but because there competence carries weight. Execution is expected. Outcomes matter. Accountability is normal. The insight isn’t “I need to move tomorrow,” but that I need periodic immersion in consequence-dense environments to recalibrate my nervous system and expectations. Without that, resentment builds and clarity erodes.

    The through-line is uncomfortable but clean: this isn’t a motivation problem. It’s an identity lag. I was still operating with rules designed for an earlier season—rules that prioritize safety and flexibility—while my calling now requires ownership, visibility, and measurable outcomes.

    At this point, refusing to win isn’t neutral. It quietly undermines authority, credibility, and self-trust. Winning isn’t about ego anymore. It’s about accepting stewardship of the systems I’m already capable of carrying.

  • Formation Over Validation: Living Forward Without Waiting

    I’m starting to see the shape of the season I’m in more clearly now. It’s quieter than I expected, slower than I wanted, and far more formative than I realized at the time.

    A lot of what I’ve been wrestling with isn’t about failure, or even missed opportunities. It’s about tempo, identity, and ownership.

    I’ve been carrying an unspoken fear that life is happening somewhere else—that the real future is in California, in offices full of important people, in rooms where decisions get made. That if I’m not physically there, I’m slowly becoming irrelevant. That one day I’ll wake up older and realize I waited too long to matter.

    But when I look honestly, that fear isn’t rooted in truth. It’s rooted in a narrow story of what “serious work” is supposed to look like.

    I didn’t get trapped near my kids. I chose to stay present. And the resentment I sometimes feel isn’t because the choice was wrong—it’s because I don’t always re-own it consciously. When I forget that I chose this path because it aligns with my values, my mind rewrites the story into one where something was taken from me. That’s the seed of bitterness, and I don’t want it growing.

    At the same time, I can see that I’ve been conflating visibility with location, and approval with progress. I’ve been too focused on where my body isn’t, instead of where my thinking could be.

    What’s becoming clearer is that my real work right now is formation, not validation.

    I’m learning that moving fast socially or emotionally often backfires—not because I’m dangerous or wrong, but because humans process safety and effort on delayed timelines. Politeness doesn’t mean alignment. Warmth doesn’t mean consent. And by the time discomfort surfaces, it’s already too late to correct. That doesn’t make me defective; it means the lever is earlier to see, not later to explain.

    This applies far beyond dating. It applies to life.

    I’m also seeing how much unused energy I’ve been carrying—how excess capacity with no clear direction turns into rumination, longing, scrolling, and obsession. When I’m physically exhausted, mentally engaged, and creatively focused, those patterns quiet down. Direction dissolves obsession. Creation beats distraction.

    Masculinity, for me, isn’t about force or dominance. It’s about restraint, discipline, and dignity under stress. About not outsourcing identity to approval. About metabolizing anger into strength instead of letting it rot into resentment. Sometimes withdrawal isn’t avoidance—it’s wisdom.

    There’s something deeply grounding about realizing that this season isn’t a punishment or a stall. It’s groundwork.

    Jesus didn’t chase acceptance. He moved with clarity, withdrew without bitterness, and measured success by obedience, not outcome. “Shake the dust off” isn’t about contempt—it’s about refusing to carry residue forward.

    I can see now that framing life as “later” is a trap. If I tell myself my real life starts after the kids are grown, or after some imagined permission is granted, I’m training myself to wait. And waiting corrodes the nervous system. Parallel advancement—not deferred living—is the way through.

    I don’t need to be everywhere. I need to be visible where it counts. Ideas compound. Synthesis matures. Presence matters more than proximity.

    This season is quiet. Restrained. Intentional.

    It isn’t failure.

    It’s formation.

  • Build a Life You’re Proud Of with the 4-Year U. System

    Build a Life You’re Proud Of with the 4-Year U. System

    Most people plan their lives in one of two ways—too short or too vague. They either make a New Year’s resolution and abandon it by spring, or they dream in decades without a clear path for how to get there. That’s where the 4-Year U. system comes in.

    4-Year U. is a life-planning framework that helps you grow in alignment with how real change happens: in cycles. Just like nature has seasons, your life has rhythms of rest, preparation, action, and reflection. The system breaks your long-term goals into four-year arcs—like a college program—so you can make tangible progress in the areas that matter most: financial, physical, spiritual, creative, and relational growth.

    Each “year” of the system represents a stage of transformation. Each “season” represents a shift in focus—from dreaming and planning to building and harvesting. The goal isn’t perfection. It’s progress, guided by a clear structure that keeps you grounded and moving forward.

    Introducing the Seasonal Quadrant Planner

    To make it easier to live this out, Frankie and I created the Seasonal Quadrant Planner—a printable life-planning guide designed to help you apply the 4-Year U. principles in your daily and seasonal rhythm.

    Inside the guide, you’ll find:

    • Seasonal worksheets that align your goals with your current phase of growth
    • Quarterly and monthly review pages to keep you on track and reflective
    • Prompts for planning and prayer to bring God’s timing into your goals
    • Space for creative thinking and future dreaming—because structure should make room for inspiration

    We made this guide for people who feel like they’re stuck in the middle—too busy to dream, yet too unsatisfied to stay still. It’s a tool to help you think long-term again, without losing sight of what matters today.

    Start Your Next Four Years Today

    If you’re ready to step into a more intentional, purpose-driven life, download the Seasonal Quadrant Planner and start your first 4-Year U. cycle. It’s time to stop drifting and start designing a life that feels aligned—with your faith, your goals, and your seasons of growth.

    Download the Planner at 4YearU.com

  • 75 Best

    What Is 75 Best? A Realistic, Soul-First Alternative to 75 Hard

    If you’ve ever tried 75 Hard, you know it’s… a lot. Intense rules. Zero flexibility. All-or-nothing discipline. But what if you could pursue personal growth, discipline, and embodiment without burning out or beating yourself up?

    That’s where 75 Best comes in.

    What Is 75 Best?

    75 Best is a 75-day self-development challenge created by TikTok creator @discussionswithmyself. It draws inspiration from 75 Hard but swaps the rigidity for something more human, joyful, and intuitive.

    It’s not about following a strict set of rules.

    It’s about embodying your best self every single day—mind, body, and soul.

    Instead of ticking off hardline tasks, you focus on living as your highest self and becoming her (or him or them) through small, intentional acts.

    How Does 75 Best Work?

    There’s no official checklist, but the pattern is clear. Each day is a container for transformation, centered around these core habits:

    1. Embodiment First Thing in the Morning

    Start each day by visualizing and feeling into your best self—who they are, how they feel, how they move, think, and speak. This often includes:

    • Grounding exercises
    • Breathwork
    • Affirmations
    • Looking at your vision board
    • No phone for at least an hour after waking up

    This isn’t just mindset work—it’s identity work.

    2. Present Eating

    Slow. Intentional. No distractions. Your best self honors their body and their meals. And yes, this one’s surprisingly hard. But it’s about awareness, not perfection.

    3. Meditation

    Every day. Doesn’t have to be long or fancy. Just a chance to connect, detach from the noise, and “tap into the quantum field,” as the creator says (shout out to Dr. Joe Dispenza, whose book Becoming Supernatural is her constant companion).

    4. Hype Walks (a.k.a. Self-Love on the Move)

    Rollerblading, walking, biking—it doesn’t matter. What matters is talking to yourself with love and power. Say affirmations. Thank your body. Get loud about how awesome you are.

    5. Something for Your Body, Mind, and Soul

    Every day, do something intentional for each:

    • Body: Move how you feel—lift, stretch, swim, rollerblade, bike, hike, or just rest.
    • Mind: Read. Listen to an audiobook. Learn something. (She’s rereading The Alchemist throughout.)
    • Soul: Paint, cook, spend time with family, try something new, or play like your inner child would.

    6. Nighttime Routine

    Before bed, the routine is gentle and reflective:

    • Write a gratitude list
    • Do a brief daily check-in (“What the fuck is up?”)
    • Write the alphabet (she’s learning to be ambidextrous)
    • Look at your vision board
    • No phone for at least an hour before sleep

    What Happens When You Fall Short?

    You keep going.

    There are days she feels awful. Days she doesn’t check every box. Days where life gets in the way. And it’s fine. Because the mission isn’t perfection—it’s becoming.

    It’s about consistency over intensity. Grace over grind. And tuning in instead of checking out.

    Why 75 Best Might Be Right for You

    • You want to change your life without shaming yourself.
    • You’re tired of burnout culture and hustle worship.
    • You want to rebuild your relationship with yourself—gently, daily, and holistically.
    • You want a challenge that honors your energy and your humanity.

    How to Start

    1. Define your best self in writing. Who are they? What do they do each day? How do they feel?
    2. Create a vision board that reflects the life you’re building.
    3. Pick 1-3 daily practices in each category (mind, body, soul) that you can realistically do.
    4. Wake up, embody, and begin.
    5. Repeat for 75 days. Adjust with compassion. Show up anyway.
  • What Happens in Your Brain When You Think a Thought?

    A Deep Dive Into Neural Processing

    Have you ever wondered what actually happens in your brain when you think a thought, hear a sound, or recall a memory? We throw around phrases like “processing information” or “making a decision,” but under the hood, your brain is orchestrating a staggeringly complex dance of electrical impulses, chemical signals, and synchronized network activity.

    This post breaks down that process into six major stages—tracking how a sound becomes a conscious thought and how that thought is shaped by memory, emotion, and attention.

    This system of distributed, dynamic thought processing in the brain—where concepts are not static but reenacted through multiple sensory and associative systems—directly supports the foundation of innovation. It’s not just about storing ideas but being able to recombine them in novel ways. This is the cognitive groundwork behind what Cal Newport, drawing from Steven Johnson and Stuart Kauffman, calls the adjacent possible. Just as a thought in the brain forms by connecting distant neural assemblies, so too do groundbreaking ideas form by linking once-unrelated concepts at the edges of our understanding. When your brain lights up in multiple regions simultaneously, it’s not noise—it’s the birth of potential. To see how this plays out at the frontier of innovation, intelligence, and idea synthesis, read this post on The Adjacent Possible, Intelligence, and the Logic of Innovation.

    Synapse-Level Mechanics: Where Thought Begins

    At the most fundamental level, thoughts are patterns of electrical activity between neurons. These spikes, called action potentials, travel down axons and arrive at synapses, where they trigger the release of neurotransmitters. These chemicals cross the synaptic gap and influence whether the next neuron fires or stays silent.

    Repeated activation strengthens these synaptic connections (long-term potentiation), while disuse weakens them (long-term depression). These dynamic links form the “cell assemblies” that encode everything from your name to your favorite song.

    The way your brain handles thoughts—through distributed networks, sensory reenactments, and dynamic integration—forms the biological basis of heuristic thinking. Heuristics aren’t just mental shortcuts; they’re efficiency strategies that reflect how the brain actually operates when navigating complexity. Instead of computing every possibility, your brain selects the most salient patterns, prioritizes action, and leans on past associations—all through rapid-fire synaptic processing. Whether you’re using trial and error, working backward, or relying on a gut instinct, you’re leveraging the same systems that enable neurons to fire in coordinated patterns to create meaning from ambiguity. For a breakdown of practical, proven heuristic strategies your brain is likely already using, check out this post on heuristic thinking and mental models.

    From Air Vibrations to Cortical Code: Tagging the Sound with Meaning

    Take sound, for example. Vibrations in the air reach your ears and stimulate hair cells in the cochlea, converting physical motion into nerve impulses. These signals travel up to the brainstem, then to the thalamus, and finally to the primary auditory cortex (A1), where they’re mapped based on frequency. Your brain essentially builds a 2D “sound map” using spatially-organized neurons.

    Once the auditory signal reaches the cortex, the hippocampus jumps in. This region acts like an index system—it links the new sensory input with existing memory, emotion, and knowledge stored in other brain regions. If you hear a song from your childhood, it’s the hippocampus that ties the music to your memories, emotions, and even the smell of your childhood home.

    These associations are built by co-activating neuron assemblies and binding them through synaptic plasticity. When one part of the network lights up later, the rest can be reactivated too—this is how recall works.

    Why Multiple Regions Light Up at Once

    A thought rarely involves just one part of the brain. Your brain uses synchronized oscillations—bursts of activity in specific frequency ranges (like gamma waves)—to let distant brain regions communicate. It’s a bit like tuning into the same radio frequency across the cortex.

    This synchronization allows visual areas, auditory regions, emotional centers, and memory stores to coordinate, building a unified experience out of fragmented data.

    Selecting What Matters: The Gatekeeper System

    With so much happening at once, how does the brain choose what becomes conscious thought?

    That job falls to a trio: the prefrontal cortex, basal ganglia, and thalamus. These areas filter and prioritize neural activity, amplifying what’s important and suppressing the rest. Dopamine plays a key role here, signaling what’s rewarding, novel, or worth your attention.

    The “winning” signals are broadcast across the global workspace—a network that’s believed to be the basis of conscious awareness. Competing thoughts or sensory data are suppressed. Only one signal gets through at a time.

    Weaving It Into a Narrative

    Once a thought makes it into the workspace, it doesn’t just float in isolation. The default mode network (DMN), which is active during introspection and daydreaming, steps in to stitch that thought into your ongoing mental narrative. This is where meaning, self-relevance, and memory encoding take place.

    The DMN ensures that your thoughts are not just abstract data but part of a coherent story—you.

    The neural mechanics behind thought formation—where cues activate sensory networks, processes unfold across distributed circuits, and outcomes are reinforced—map almost perfectly to what Charles Duhigg calls the habit loop: cue, process, reward. At the synaptic level, your brain favors efficiency. Repeated patterns become default pathways not because they’re optimal, but because they’re fast and familiar—this is the essence of habit formation. What Duhigg describes on the organizational level as “keystone habits” mirrors how the brain streamlines complex activity into automatic routines. In both cases, it’s not about removing the habit (or network), but rewiring the middle: swapping in a new process while keeping the same cue and reward. To explore how this applies to individuals, companies, and culture, check out this post on The Power of Habit and organizational behavior.

    Just as your brain coordinates countless inputs across multiple networks to form a single thought, organizations also rely on complex information systems to collect, process, and synthesize data into actionable insight. In both cases, the value lies not only in storing information, but in how that information is retrieved, prioritized, and made meaningful within a broader context. The brain’s “global workspace” mirrors what a well-structured Management Information System (MIS) does for a business: integrating disparate data sources, filtering noise from signal, and surfacing the most relevant information for decision-making. To explore how this same principle scales up from neurons to networks, read this related post on Information Systems and MIS and how they function as the cognitive backbone of modern enterprises.

    Final Thoughts

    A single thought is not a “thing” stored somewhere in the brain. It’s a dynamic event—a flash of electrical and chemical activity spread across a network, shaped by memory, filtered by attention, and bound together through rhythms. It’s messy, beautiful, and efficient. And it’s happening thousands of times a second.

    If you want to shape what you think and remember, focus on attention, repetition, and meaning. Your brain will do the rest.

  • The Douglas Accords

    The Douglas Accords

    Recently, I asked ChatGPT to do something different.

    I didn’t want tips or comfort. I didn’t want affirmation. I wanted confrontation. So I gave it a prompt:

    “Act like a no-fluff transformational coach. Help me get brutally clear about who the best version of me really is—not some fantasy, but the grounded, embodied version of me that shows up in all areas of life with purpose and power. Ask me these questions one at a time. Press me. Challenge my excuses. Hold up the mirror. I want clarity, not comfort.”

    And it did.

    What followed was not a back-and-forth. It was a mirror being held up to my face and a fire being lit under my feet.

    The process began with relationships. I told ChatGPT I wanted to live shame-free, confident, self-assured, and intentional in my romantic life, my family, and my friendships. But that wasn’t enough. It pressed:

    “What does that look like? What does the movie scene look like?”

    So I described it:

    • I tell my partner, “That was a long time ago—I don’t do that anymore. I’m focused on the future.”
    • When family crosses a boundary, I say, “Thank you, but I don’t accept that. I know who I am.”
    • When a friend repeats the same cycle, I say, “This is what you want. This is what you’ve practiced. This is what you got.”

    That was just the start.

    Then we moved into finances.

    I told it I believed money flows to me because I provide value. I budget. I plan. I build systems and income streams. I’m not just hustling—I’m stewarding.

    But again, it pressed:

    “What are the receipts? What would the best version of you do with money?”

    I laid it out:

    • I’ve built multiple income streams.
    • I net around $10k/month.
    • I give to church and causes.
    • I automate investments.

    And yet—I had no runway. That’s where the gap was.

    Then came health.

    I said I walk 10,000 steps a day. I train. I eat high protein, low carb. I pray, breathe, and reflect when I’m anxious. But when chaos hits?

    “I break my diet. Then my boundaries. Then my fitness.”

    That was a gut punch. But it was real. And that truth mattered.

    It reminded me: if I want to perform under pressure, I must strain when things are calm. I’m training for purpose, not performance. Fitness is spiritual.

    And then we got to purpose.

    I explained that I build systems that make things more efficient and help people. I create communities. I write. I consult. I make content. But ChatGPT pressed again:

    “What kingdom dies if you stay silent?”

    That shook me.

    I realized: I help business owners, ecommerce leaders, and people stuck in careers or relationships. I create spaces where people feel seen and heard. I’m the tide that raises all boats.

    And then came the dagger:

    “Where are you playing small?”

    I confessed: I dilute my message. I play around on social media, hiding the real work behind entertainment. I spread myself across channels to stay safe, not great. I’ve been fragmenting my power.

    From there, I declared what I refuse to do anymore:

    • I refuse to be afraid of the internet’s opinions.
    • I refuse to numb out and self-sabotage.
    • I refuse to pretend I’m not built to lead.

    And I remembered the code I’ve lived by, but never written out:

    The Douglas Accords: I will continue to be me even when no one is watching. I will continue to build even when no one is clapping. I will continue to connect even if I never get reciprocation. Because I am a lover, a fighter, a businessman, and a creative.

    Finally, ChatGPT asked:

    “If you stepped into that version of yourself today—how would you walk, speak, think, decide, and love differently?”

    And I answered:

    • I would sit up straight.
    • I would work with intention.
    • I would use my time wisely.
    • I would build systems and habits that serve me.
    • I would be a good steward.
    • I would love deeply, forgive completely, focus on the present, and move forward with intention.

    This wasn’t a chat. It was a personal revival.

    So I’m sharing it here, not as a proclamation of achievement, but as a line in the sand.

    The Douglas Accords are my declaration. This is how I live now.

    Because the world doesn’t need more content. It needs more men who know who they are.

    And I do.

    I am Erich Douglas Stauffer. And I’m showing up with everything I’ve got.

    Summary: The Best Version of Erich

    Relationships

    • Anchored in truth, not ego.
    • Leads with presence. Speaks with clarity.
    • Shows up consistent—behind doors and in the open.

    Finances

    • Diversified. Disciplined. Strategic.
    • Builds runway and automates growth.
    • Gives with joy and intention.

    Health

    • Trains like a warrior preparing for battle.
    • Treats the body as sacred, not ornamental.
    • Spiritual habits are non-negotiable.

    Purpose / Work

    • Builds systems that transform people and businesses.
    • Speaks with authority. Creates for impact.
    • Refuses to fragment focus or play small.

    Core Beliefs & Disciplines

    • Follows the Douglas Accords.
    • Chooses action over applause.
    • Practices stewardship in secret.

    My 5 “I Am” Mantras

    1. I am a grounded, loving leader who speaks truth and shows up with unwavering presence.
    2. I am a powerful creator of value, building wealth with strategy, purpose, and generosity.
    3. I am a disciplined steward of my body, emotions, and spirit—trained for trials, prepared for peace.
    4. I am a system builder and visionary who multiplies impact through structure and service.
    5. I am Erich Douglas Stauffer—lover, fighter, businessman, and creative—living my calling out loud.

    Learn how I’m helping others live epic lives @4YearU.

  • Eat that Frog! Plan Every Day in Advance

    If you’re like me, you’ve probably experienced the chaos of waking up and diving headfirst into a day without a clear plan. The hours slip away, tasks pile up, and suddenly, you’re wondering where the day went. Brian Tracy’s Eat That Frog! (affiliate link) offers a solution to this all-too-common scenario in its second chapter, aptly titled, “Plan Every Day in Advance.”

    At its core, this chapter emphasizes a simple truth: planning pays dividends. Tracy introduces a compelling concept—spend 10% of your time planning, and you’ll save 90% of the time that would have been wasted through disorganization or inefficiency. This principle might sound straightforward, but it’s profoundly transformative when applied consistently.

    The Power of Planning

    Research supports this approach. People who plan—even with something as simple as a numbered list—are three times more likely to achieve their goals than those who don’t. Why? Because planning transforms vague ambitions into actionable steps. It provides clarity and momentum.

    Tracy compares this process to a quirky example from pop culture—the “underpants gnomes” from South Park. These gnomes have a three-step plan:

    1. Steal underpants.
    2. ????
    3. Profit!

    While the humor lies in the nonsensical middle step, it highlights a real-world truth: without a clear and actionable plan, even the most ambitious goals remain out of reach. Tracy’s message is clear: define your steps, eliminate the question marks, and your path to success becomes achievable.

    How to Plan Effectively

    To make the most of your day, Tracy suggests these actionable tips:

    1. Write It Down: Begin each evening by listing everything you want to accomplish the following day. Putting it on paper or in a digital planner helps you externalize your thoughts, freeing up mental energy.
    2. Prioritize: Identify your “frog” for the day—the most challenging and impactful task. Rank your tasks in order of importance, focusing on what will move the needle.
    3. Chunk Your Time: Allocate specific time blocks for your most critical tasks. This minimizes distractions and ensures you tackle your priorities when your energy is at its peak.
    4. Visualize Success: Picture yourself completing your tasks. Visualization primes your brain for action, reducing resistance and increasing motivation.

    My Takeaways

    As someone deeply interested in time management and personal growth, this chapter resonated with me on multiple levels. It aligns closely with my approach to projects like my book, Think Again. Without a clear outline and actionable steps, writing such a comprehensive book would feel overwhelming. But breaking it into smaller, manageable pieces makes the process not only possible but also enjoyable.

    I’ve also noticed that when I fail to plan—whether it’s my day, a project, or even my fitness routine—I fall into the trap of reacting to whatever seems urgent instead of focusing on what’s important. Tracy’s emphasis on planning reaffirms the importance of being proactive rather than reactive.

    The 10% Rule

    One of the most valuable takeaways from this chapter is the 10% rule: the small investment of time spent planning your day can lead to exponential savings in productivity. It’s a reminder that slowing down to think through your priorities isn’t a waste of time—it’s a superpower.

    So, as you look ahead to tomorrow, take a moment to pause and plan. Write down your tasks, identify your “frog,” and allocate your time intentionally. That small effort could be the difference between a day that feels aimless and one that feels purposeful and productive.

    As Brian Tracy reminds us: “Every minute spent in planning saves as many as ten minutes in execution.”

    What will you plan today?

  • Eat That Frog! Set the Table

    One of the books that has had a profound impact on how I approach challenges and productivity is Brian Tracy’s Eat That Frog! (affiliate link). The book is a powerhouse of practical advice, and its very first chapter, Set the Table, sets the tone with a message about clarity and preparation.

    The concept of “setting the table” is simple yet transformative. It’s about defining what problem you’re solving before diving in. It’s a principle I’ve come to embrace not only in my work but also in my broader life, where clarity is often the bridge between overwhelming inaction and purposeful progress.

    The STAIR Framework: A New Lens on Problem-Solving

    While reflecting on this chapter, I was reminded of a method I once heard from a professor: the STAIR framework. It’s a five-step acronym that can help you break down any problem into manageable steps. Here’s what it looks like:

    1. S – State the Problem: Clearly define what you’re trying to solve. Avoid ambiguity and zero in on the issue.
    2. T – Tools Available: Identify the resources and tools you already have at your disposal to tackle the problem.
    3. A – Algorithm: Map out the process or sequence of steps you’ll need to follow to solve the problem.
    4. I – Implementation: Take action. Execute your plan step by step.
    5. R – Revision: Evaluate the outcome. Ask yourself if the solution worked, and if not, go back and tweak earlier steps.

    This process is a game-changer when it comes to clarity. It’s simple enough to apply to everything, from daily tasks to major life goals.

    A Peanut Butter and Jelly Example

    To make this framework more tangible, let’s use something as simple as making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

    1. State the Problem: How do I make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?
    2. Tools Available: Bread, peanut butter, jelly, knife, spoon, countertop.
    3. Algorithm: Toast the bread, spread peanut butter on one slice, jelly on the other, and combine them.
    4. Implementation: Follow the steps you outlined.
    5. Revision: Taste the sandwich—did it meet your expectations? If not, rethink the process.

    Now imagine scaling this process up to something bigger—like launching a product, improving personal habits, or planning an outdoor community event. The beauty of the STAIR method is its versatility and scientific approach to achieving clarity and results.

    Why Clarity Matters

    In my life and projects, I’ve noticed that a lack of clarity often creates a kind of mental inertia, leaving me stuck at the starting line. What Set the Table and the STAIR framework emphasize is that once the problem is clear and the steps are outlined, the daunting task often becomes approachable, even exciting.

    It’s about knowing your “why” and being intentional with your “how.” For me, this lesson resonates deeply, especially as I pursue long-term goals like creating outdoor-focused content, growing my consulting business, and developing a life management system through 4-Year U.

    Applying This in Everyday Life

    The next time you’re stuck or procrastinating, try setting your own table. Define the problem. Identify your tools. Lay out the steps. Then take action, knowing you can revise and improve as you go. Whether it’s deciding how to tackle a work project, building a business idea, or even deciding what to prioritize in a busy day, this simple approach can create a sense of control and momentum.

    Brian Tracy’s reminder to “set the table” isn’t just about productivity—it’s about living with intention. And for me, it’s a daily practice of clarity, faith, and action, step by step, one frog at a time.