Optimized, But Not Relaxed

What's on my Mind?

This morning, after catching up on email, I was left with only one message that actually needed my attention.

In my State Farm world, things felt calm.

That caught me in a good way. Not because life is always calm there, but because it reminded me how different calm can feel depending on where I’m standing.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how easy it is for me to confuse planning with peace.

I know how to plan.

I know how to think ahead, anticipate problems, and try to create the best possible experience for the people around me. That part of me is useful. It helps me lead. It helps me care for people well. It helps me protect what matters.

But I was recently reminded that being prepared and being relaxed are not always the same thing.

Last week I had a wonderful time with my family on vacation. I’m grateful for it.

But I also spent a lot of that time tense.

The kind of tense you don’t fully notice until later, when your body is sore and tired and you realize you were bracing the whole time. I was focused on safety. Focused on my kids. Focused on making sure things were thought through, planned, and set up to create the best possible experience.

Optimized, but not relaxed.

That way of being is familiar to me. Planning ahead is one of the ways I care. It’s one of the ways I protect. It’s also one of the ways I’ve learned to succeed.

And to be fair, that strategy has worked for me.

I’ve chosen resistance a lot in my life. I’ve chosen the hard path on purpose because I believed that was the path to growth, success, and becoming someone capable. A lot of the gifts I have now came from that version of me.

But something has been shifting.

Because while my State Farm world feels calm right now, my Iowa Worm Farm world feels a little nuts.

I came back to stacked emails, calls to return, and more momentum than I expected. One of my TikTok videos got more than 3,000 views. I’ve had people reach out about hosting workshops in Orange City and in the Iowa City area. I’m bringing on my first coffee shop for coffee grounds. I’m working through logistics with a local mushroom farmer producing 500 pounds of spent mushroom blocks a week with nowhere to put them.

And I still don’t have more than about 70 square feet of storage space.

All of that should probably make me feel overwhelmed.

But strangely, I feel calm.

That’s the part that caught my attention.

Before all of that, I had been turning over an idea in my mind. My plan was to find 10 homes in my neighborhood for a pilot program. They’d pay $50 a month, get a 5-gallon bucket for food waste, I’d pick it up every two weeks, and in return they’d get lawn testing and four biological applications a year.

It made sense on paper.

Consistent food waste. Consistent revenue. A real local system.

But the logistics felt heavy. The time commitment felt heavy. And if I’m honest, it felt like another version of me trying to personally carry the whole thing.

Then I had one of those quiet moments where I stopped trying to think my way out of it and asked what I should do.

What came back was simple.

Teach people to do it themselves.

Use social media. Use video. Share what I’m learning. Help the people who already want to make a difference learn how to take part in it.

That felt lighter.

And more honest.

Rather than trying to do all of it myself, maybe my role is to help other people do some of it too.

Maybe the impact is bigger that way.

Maybe the path forward isn’t to keep adding complexity, pickups, logistics, and obligations just because I’m capable of carrying them.

Maybe the better path is to simplify.
To teach.
To trust.
To find my people and help them become the change they want to see.

That feels a lot more like flow than resistance.

And maybe that’s what I’m noticing right now.

The nervous energy is still there. The drive is still there. The part of me that wants to optimize, protect, and think five steps ahead is still there too.

But maybe not every opportunity needs to become an obligation.

Maybe not every good idea needs to become my job.

Maybe some of what I’ve learned was never meant to be carried alone.

I’m still figuring that out.

But for the first time in a while, I don’t feel like I need to force the answer.