Recently I had a discussion with someone about parenting styles, and her description of mine was “hands-free.”

Though I understand the description, I actually don’t agree with its core. I’m not hands-free at all! I’m incredibly involved in my kids’ lives, both in the macro sense and in the day-to-day. My hands are very much on.

But my hands are holding theirs, not leashes. My hands are guiding, not stopping. They’re lifting, not pulling.

Let’s give an example. There are some parents who choose every meal – heck, every morsel – for their children. The parent chooses the meals, the snacks, etc., and the kids have zero input. They eat what they’re told to eat and they’re punished if they don’t. Compliance is mandatory. Truthfully, I think that’s a bad method.

But I also think the opposite is bad! The opposite might be called “hands-free,” and involves basically having no input as the parent into the diets of the kids. I see this more frequently than I wish were true: any demand from a kid for any food item (even things that only barely qualify as “food”) being given to the kid instantly and without discussion. Sugar by the bucket, snacks without a hint of nutritional value, no attention paid to scheduling, etc. They might stop their kids from eating literal rat poison, but that seems to be the limit.

My method is neither of those. My method involves neither utterly removing kids’ input from the equation nor yielding my own input from it. Instead, my method involves guided conversation.

I say this with absolute sincerity: all three of my children counted protein and vitamins in the first hundred words they could say. They knew what healthy food was. As they got older, they knew why healthy food was important. Why balanced meals and moderated sweets led to healthier lives and better moods. They know the costs of unhealthy foods – and that means the true costs, not fear-mongered ones. They know that a piece of candy isn’t going to make them sick. They know that two bowls of ice cream will.

My oldest is ten. She has her own money, she goes to the store by herself. She can buy food – even food I don’t want her to! – if she wants. I have no interest in the level of control it would take to make sure she never buys a Coke; the harm a soda inflicts pales in comparison to the level of damage done by that much helicoptering. Instead, by the time she had her own money and knew the way to the store by herself, I trusted that she knew enough about her own health and body (and enough about the value of money – kids may race to spend “free” money on junk, but they’re surprisingly more intelligent about the money they had to sweat to earn) to make good overall health choices.

One time she did come home with a Coke. I asked her about it, and she said she wanted to try it. (Note that she felt no need to hide this from me – she rightly understood that she wouldn’t face any sort of “punishment” for this choice, and as such was completely open with me.) She took two sips and put it in the fridge.

It was still there, untouched further, a week later. She said she hadn’t cared for it.

No, I’m not hands-free. In fact, I probably spend more time parenting, both overall and on any given moment, than the vast majority of other parents. I just spend that time with a different aim – my goal isn’t to minimize my own inconvenience, which sadly seems to be the primary motivating factor of a lot of parents out there. My goal is to train competent humans. Humans who can do things, figure things out, and succeed at things. My goal is to make their hands strong, capable, and free.

Today I attended a TEDx Talk live. Six speakers gave their insights on a variety of topics, and unlike every other TEDx Talk I’ve ever watched, I got to be present in the room instead of watching it on YouTube.

It was wonderful. These sorts of events – pure speaking for the sake of idea transfer – give me incredible joy.

Listening to people talk about their thing, from their perspective, without any specific prompting or input from me creates an amazing space for my brain. It’s pure reception without navigation. Interest without agenda. This unfiltered flow of new viewpoints catalyzes new ideas at an incredible pace for me.

I encourage it! Watch documentaries almost at random. Pull books off the shelf without much concern for topic. The key isn’t the information you receive. It’s the ideas you generate as a result of your brain firing on all cylinders. Which it definitely doesn’t if it’s just processing familiar information into the same old buckets. So go out and find information so new to you that you don’t even have a bucket for it yet. That bucket will end up filling with gold.

Don’t try too hard to impose one. There is virtue in accepting the inputs for what they are. You can control the outputs anyway.

Remember “connect the dots?” There would be a page full of dots, and if you connected them with a continual line in the order listed, a picture would appear.

Life is like that, except for two major differences. The first is that you’re constantly making the picture yourself, by connecting each new dot to the next one you want. You meet a new co-worker that you like (dot), so you go get some dinner with them at a restaurant they like (dot), so you discover that the restaurant does a trivia night (dot), so you go to that and meet your new significant other (dot), and on and on and on. You keep making the life you want by connecting things in the order that you want.

The other way life is different is that occasionally, very unexpectedly, a totally new dot just appears in your life. Sure, everything is connected in some way, but some things definitely have only the most tenuous of threads tying them together.

Here’s the thing about those new dots, those totally unexpected events – they’re seeds. Seeds of new pictures, new adventures, new paths to even more dots. Or, you know, they could be nothing.

In order for them to be anything at all, you have to take the dot for what it is, and be willing to draw lines. Life is made of these lines – don’t leave them!

Beneath the way you act, the way you think, and even the way you interpret sensory signals are a set of core beliefs that are so deep you probably don’t even realize you have them.

You may have gained them when you were very young. They may have been imparted by important people in your life, such as your parents. They may have come from pivotal events in your formative years. But once you gain them, they almost never change. They’re the bedrock of the rest of you.

That makes them absolutely worth examining.

We are evolved creatures, and much of what we do comes from past experiences. But I don’t want to yield quote that much control over my destiny to a version of me that didn’t know what I know now. I want to be able to take my current knowledge and use it to adjust my core beliefs if doing so will be beneficial. In order to even make that judgment, I have to really be prepared to look at my core beliefs for what they are and accept that no matter what they are, there’s some possibility they’re not as accurate or helpful as they could be.

How would you act if one of you rejected one of your most deeply-held beliefs and replaced it with its opposite? Would your life improve? Would you improve the world?

I don’t think all beliefs are equal. I think some values, views, and convictions are better, and do more for the good of the world. I seek more of those, and I seek to reject those that don’t meet that standard. I would be foolish to claim that I’d already discovered all the truth there was.

You can overshoot or undershoot. You can do too much and you can do too little. Most of the time, you’re doing great either way!

We’ve all cooked too much food at some point. It’s not a waste; a little Tupperware and suddenly “mistakenly making too much food” turns into “intelligently preparing meals for the next few days.” Most effort rolls over. Wrote too many words? Put half of them into a new project.

Or maybe you undershot a little. You meant to build a bridge, but you built half a bridge. Half a bridge, by itself, isn’t much more useful than no bridge at all – but someone else out there is probably in possession of half a bridge, too. In fact, I guarantee it. Not only can you combine efforts, but the very act of doing so builds something even more valuable than the bridge itself – it builds somewhere for it to go. Now you have a new friend!

The point is, don’t get too hung up on “the right amount” of a good thing. Your life isn’t really discrete like that. You’ll be cooking and writing and building your whole life, a continual stream of pasta and pages and bridges. You can always chop it all up into the correct portions later. For now, just do the things you love and let them flow. They’ll connect when they’re meant to.

Today’s post takes the long way around to get to you – I wrote this a few weeks ago and it was picked up by a marvelous organization who shared it on their own blog. (But since I wrote it, it’s totally not a cop-out to use it for today’s post!)

I’ll share the post and also promote the org by linking it here. Go have a read!

People are imperfect. But “imperfect” doesn’t mean “bad.” Far from it!

That’s a vital thing to remember because people are going to let you down your whole life. You’re going to have certain expectations in your times of trouble and need, and people – good people – have no way of reading your mind. You might not even have a good way of reading your own mind, in the sense that many of your expectations will be subconscious ones.

For instance, you may reach out to a loved one because you’re having a bad day, and your expectation is “I will feel better.” And then you do reach out, but you don’t feel better after. You don’t consciously know what you wanted them to do or say – if you did, you probably wouldn’t have needed to reach out. But they tried. Whatever they did, it was their way of helping.

Just love people for that. The world is full of imperfect people trying so very hard to help you. They will fail, time and again. Love them anyway.

A little over twenty years ago, I met two of my closest friends. We met as part of a shared geeky gaming club, and we’ve been together ever since. We’ve all grown up, we all have children.

Today, I took each of our oldest kids and played those same games with them. It was amazing – my childhood and adolescence reignited. They had a blast. They probably didn’t have half as much fun as I did, though.

My father had many hobbies. He never tried to force them on me, but he was always open about them – and if I showed the slightest bit of interest, he poured as much fuel onto that fire as he could. The result was that I shared many interests with him, gaining great bonds together, but I also learned how to pick what I liked. How to become interested in things because I wanted to be.

That’s what I wanted to do with my own kids (and the kids of my dear friends, who I love as my own). My kids share several of my interests, but they also have a bunch of their own.

The torch doesn’t stay the same when you pass it. It changes shape and color, as it should be. I am thrilled beyond measure to simply bask in its light as someone else carries it.