This weekend, I was looking for a picture of my 18-year-old self. Our office is putting together a bulletin board for Parents Weekend, and someone came up with the idea that we post our pictures from the time when we were the same age our students are now. I knew I had the picture somewhere – I just needed to go through my stuff and find it.

In the midst of this search, I began thinking about stuff.

Not as in ideas or worries or plans. I’m talking about the stuff we all have: clothes, books, furniture, papers, dishes, TVs, pens, hammers. You know, the stuff we accumulate over the course of our lives.

I live in a fairly small apartment, where I’ve been for eight years. It’s certainly smaller than any house I’ve lived in. Yet, it took me a while to find the picture I wanted because I still have a lot of stuff. I bet I’m not alone.

I then started thinking about the time we spend every week dealing with our stuff. We look for stuff, clean stuff, throw out stuff, re-arrange stuff, repair stuff, and insure stuff. We make countless decisions about our stuff: Do I keep this? Will I need it again some day? Do I have too many of these? Could someone less fortunate use this? Am I tired of seeing it around the house? Will I feel bad if I put it up some place where I don’t see it all the time? And that doesn’t even cover the time spent looking for new stuff to buy.

I finally found the picture of my 18-year-old self and suddenly felt wistful. I started talking to her. “Don’t spend so much time and money on stuff. If you can put stuff to the side, you will have a better life. You can live more in the moment, enjoying people, nature, and even silence. Stuff is temporary. It distracts you. Spending time thinking ‘I wish I had this…I wish I had that…’ is a waste. Because it really doesn’t matter in the end. The laughter with your family is what matters. The way you talk to a co-worker or friend is what matters. The smile you give to the tired, overwhelmed student in your office is what matters. The idea you have that will make someone else’s life easier is what matters.”

Of course, all she did was smile back at me.

Everyone has “to do” lists, right?

There is an entire industry devoted to making sure we have a plan for our day, our week, our life….. To be productive, we need to be checking off items to stay focused on “the plan.” Once we complete our “to do” list, we can see what we have achieved for that day and feel some sense of accomplishment.

I have a daily journal that I keep at work. When you open it, on the right hand page is the list of items I plan to complete by the end of that day. The list usually includes meetings with students, items I need to complete for my boss, emails from colleagues that require attention, requests for information about this or that, pieces of larger projects that are in progress. I have done this for more than 15 years – come by my office some time and see the stack in my overhead cabinet.

What I realized the other day is that I was missing one key entry: taking some time each day to “have ideas.”

This semester, I have been taking a MOOC (massive open online course) through Penn State called “Creativity, Innovation, and Change.” There are more than 125,000 of us who have come together to consider such questions as: Is everyone creative? Why do some people generate a lot of ideas? What does it mean to innovate? How do we use different tools to help us consider alternatives?

Last night, I watched a documentary on Steve Jobs, perhaps the most influential creative person of the last 25 years. He said something that caused me to stop the recording and grab a pen. Here is the statement: “Everything around you that you call life was made up by people no smarter than you.” Wow. He is saying that anyone may create something that no one has ever thought about creating.

So here’s my plan: I am now keeping an idea journal in addition to my daily work journal. In it, I am recording ideas I have for my USC 101 class, the training I am developing for advisors at the university, and anything else that I might be trying to figure out. I am jotting down everything….from signs I see on restaurant bulletin boards to words written in chalk on sidewalks in my neighborhood.  Here’s something I saw the other day. I think it’s advice from the universe about making sure I have a “to do” list that is different from those the productivity experts suggest…….

What’s on your “to do” list this week?

As of last Friday, I am no longer hurrying.

I’d love to tell you it’s because I started yoga class again after being away for a year. Or because I began meditating again to become more aware of the present moment.

The real reason is this: I tore off my side-view mirror at Cookout. (Geez, that was one more expensive cheeseburger….)

I was in a hurry and just wasn’t paying attention. I placed my order, pulled over to the right to get closer to the drive-thru window, and tried at the same time to take my money out of my wallet. BAM! All I could do is roll down my passenger window, throw the mirror inside and head over to Tommy’s to see what I needed to do next. (By the way, Tommy is at Mission Valley and has worked on my cars for more than 10 years – he is awesome.)

On the way home, I thought to myself: Why are we always hurrying? It seems that everyone is walking fast, driving fast, and talking fast, and I am no exception. Is it just that everyone else is hurrying, so I think I need to hurry, too? Even if I am not on a deadline or late for a meeting?

Friday I went to Harris Teeter after work, and I watched. Everyone (except older people with mobility issues) seemed to be hurrying. One woman shoved her cart down the aisle like she was on a game show, trying to win a prize at the end of the row. One man had his phone cradled against his shoulder, talking while throwing frozen meals into a basket. A young couple talked fast to each other, grabbing beer and ice, while dropping chips on the floor.

I walked slowly….and I liked it. I could actually take a few minutes to think about what I needed. I smelled the fruit in the produce section. I heard the song on the overhead speaker, realizing I had probably never really paid attention to what is being played while we shop. I smiled at people. (They probably thought I was drunk.)

I realized something – the problem with all this hurrying is we are missing the rich textures of life: the smells, sounds, colors, and people. It’s hard to connect with others when our goal is simply to get around them and go on. Why have we become so impatient that we unknowingly let a door close in someone’s face? Who did this to us? Who convinced us that we needed to hurry that much?

The next day, I sat at a green light, waiting for a woman to cross the street so I could turn right. In the past, I would have been impatiently saying in my head: Come on, come on…. This time I counted; it took her ten seconds. Ten seconds. How ridiculous to think I ever failed to understand that in ten seconds someone can safely cross a street and I can be on my way.

So, for only the cost of a new side-view mirror, I found a new way to live my life. Thanks, Cookout.

I think everyone should have a creative partner: someone who engages them in thinking beyond the usual possibilities.

Mine is my stuffed wolf, Kipling.

When I worked with student athletes at NC State, my office was in hallowed Reynolds Coliseum. (Note: I am sure you agree that you must include the word “hallowed” when talking about Reynolds.) I decided one day that I needed a mascot for my office. I started looking in toy stores and museums, trying to find a wolf that would not be too fluffy or soft. I mean, you can’t represent the NC State Wolfpack if you are fluffy and soft, right?

I was about to give up until I went with some friends to the North Carolina Zoo. There on a shelf, by himself, was a wolf that looked like a real wolf, with bristling hair and a penetrating gaze. I bought that wolf immediately and took him to live in my office.

I decided to name him Kipling. It was Rudyard Kipling who wrote these words: “For the strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.” Perfect. And so Kipling came to be. He lived in Reynolds until I moved to my next position at the university.

I had no idea at the time what role Kipling would come to play in my life.

When you name a stuffed wolf, you give him an identity. When you name a stuffed wolf and then introduce him to your incredibly comedic family, you have created a muse.

Everyone in my family, including my brother’s girlfriend, loves Kipling. They buy him presents. They dress him up in outfits (he even has his own Santa suit) and take his picture.  They ask about him when they call.  They want to know if he’s coming for Thanksgiving. They watch for his picture on Facebook.

But once he started going on vacations with us, “Kipling fever” reached a new level.

Kipling had his picture made in the arms of a Times Square Miss Liberty who turned out to be an overweight guy from New Jersey. He was seen at the top of the Space Needle in Seattle, gazing at Mount Rainier. He ended up in photographs made by Japanese tourists in front of the Lincoln Memorial.  He was cradled in the arms of a Turner Field usher, Henry, while wearing his own Atlanta Braves batting helmet. He posed in front of the Salty Dog Cafe in Hilton Head, wearing his own dog (wolf) bandana.

When I look at Kip, I think “who says creativity has to come in the form of dance, painting, music, or photography? Why can’t creativity come on the form of a stuffed wolf who causes you to think, ‘how can I express my sense of humor through this ‘medium’?”

Yes, you feel a bit nervous when you are creative in such an unusual way. Trust me: when you are pulling a stuffed wolf out of a tote bag, putting a batting helmet on his head, and asking an usher to hold him, you have a moment when you think, “is this person going to think I am a little wacky?”

But isn’t that the risk with any creative expression?

On Thursday, August 29, Jadeveon Clowney will meet some folks from Chapel Hill.

Never heard of him? Google him (I’ll wait…….)

So Jadeveon Clowney is the most famous college football player in America who isn’t a Heisman Trophy winner. Grown adults gush about him: “he’s a freak of nature,” “he’s otherworldy,” “he’s just so daggum athletic.”

I admit it. I am one of those gushing adults. I love college football. And since I love college football, I love Jadeveon Clowney.

Not in a weird, creepy, stalker way – I just love his physical talent. As a football fan, I am in awe of any man who is 6′ 6″, 275 pounds, and runs the 40 in 4.46. For those of you who aren’t football fans, people his size almost never run 40 yards that fast. And then at the end of running that fast, Jadeveon Clowney hits people. Want to see “The Hit,” the most famous play in college football last season? Go to YouTube, put in his name and “The Hit,” and you’ll find it.

I read this lengthy profile about him in the local paper this weekend and even though I now know a lot more about his childhood and the development of his physical gifts, I don’t know him. Beyond the hype. Beyond the labels. Who IS Jadeveon Clowney, really?

See, I used to work in NC State’s Academic Support Program for Student Athletes. For a while, I worked with the men’s basketball team. What I learned from that experience is that you can’t see who these people really are by watching them on TV. Yes, you get glimpses. You might see persistence and heart – you might also see impatience and flashes of temper.

But who these people really are gets lost in the statistics, the instant in-game analysis, and the sound bites in the locker room. I think back to my time with the “guys,” as I still call them, and I remember conversations we had about leadership….about how to treat people who are very different from you…about how to be gentle with children who – literally – look up to you…about handling heavy family expectations….about dealing with success and failure. I still think about those conversations from time to time.

Today I am friends with a number of them on Facebook. I get to see them being caring husbands, patient fathers, generous businessmen, and inspiring coaches.

I love them. And that love has nothing to do with physical talent. It’s about who they really are.