As I look back on this week’s posts, there’s a quiet current running underneath them. A sense of rhythm. A kind of movement. A softness—not in effort, but in how the work shows up.
Let’s call it a groove.
Intro
In Start Small, I wrote:
“Don’t make it a thing before it’s ready to be a thing.”
Big ambitions are beautiful. But they require more than vision—they require time. Trust. Support. And often, other people.
People who might already be stretched thin. People who may want to help but don’t know how. Or maybe the ask feels too big, too ambiguous, too early.
Start small. See how it feels. See how it lands. See how it moves. Stay with it.
Nudge it forward. Every day, if you can. Let momentum do the heavy lifting. And when it’s finally ready to be a thing?
You’ll feel it.
Dream big. Start small. Ship daily.
Rhythm
In Feeling, I shared a video that shifted how I think about work forever.
It’s from Victor Wooten, a legendary bassist, who said:
“When you reach someone with feeling, that’s when you can play with less technique… and end up playing more music.”
I felt that.
I grew up playing guitar—learning from tab sites, chasing solos, trying to channel Kirk Hammett and Alexi Laiho. Shredding felt impressive. But if I’m honest? It rarely sounded good.
The music that stuck with people—the music they could nod to, move to, hum in the shower—wasn’t in the solos. It was in the rhythm.
And the same is true in our work.
We try to impress. (I do this too). We chase cleverness. We craft pristine documentation. We design elegant shortcuts. But sometimes (or often)… everyone’s just playing solos at each other. Loud. Fast. Impressive.
And yet—no one’s actually listening. It’s not really music. It’s just noise.
(In saying this, I acknowledge I sound like an old fart shaking my fist at dubstep or something similar.)
What would it look like to step back? To find the rhythm we’re meant to play together? To let the groove carry us forward?
The next time I feel myself overthinking, trying to show off, trying to out-solo the moment…
I’ll take a beat. Find the groove. And play something that makes people move.
Chorus
That same post ends in a familiar place—one that came up in a recent conversation with a long-time designer friend.
“At the end of the day, it’s all about people.”
And I believe that.
Over the past few months, I’ve been deep in a project with a small, scrappy team. There’s been design complexity. Product ambiguity. Engineering challenges on top of challenges.
But the hardest part? People.
Making sure everyone understands the work. Making sure they feel heard. Making sure we’re not just moving fast—but moving together.
I came across a quote recently from Ryan Dunlap that landed hard:
“If you can’t solve people problems, you become people’s biggest problem.”
And oof. That’s it.
If you’re not tending to the team—its clarity, communication, trust—you become a blocker. Not because you meant to be. But because cleverness isn’t collaboration.
Clever makes you feel smart. Clarity makes everyone else feel smart.
That’s what people remember. That’s what makes the work good. That’s what keeps the groove going.