An Ideal Day of Flow: Creating, Connecting, and Receiving

Describe your most ideal day from beginning to end.

A Life-Giving Rhythm of Making, Sharing, and Learning

There’s a fine line between comfort and complacency. The aggressive pursuit of ease is, I’ve found, a fast track to old age. So an ideal day—one that leaves me feeling alive rather than merely sustained—begins with movement.

A brisk walk in the cold February air, lungs filled with winter’s sharp clarity, feet crunching along a park path, an icy frozen pond nearby. Maybe the kids are with me, bundled up, testing the limits of ice and balance. Cold fingers, warm hearts. And then, in contrast, the thaw—a playful indoor pool, laughter echoing off tiled walls, and finally, a well-earned soak in a hot tub, muscles unwinding.

Creativity follows. Hands shaping clay, paint meeting canvas, the act of making something that did not exist before. There’s a unique fulfillment in that—a tangible reminder that we are, as Makoto Fujimura says, “created to create.”

The mind, too, must be fed. Not with the empty calories of trending opinions, but with the rich sustenance of wisdom. The guides of old, the thinkers of now—those whose influence is measured not by followers but by the depth of transformation they inspire. Daniel Priestley would call them Key People of Influence, those who shape industries and ideas rather than chase algorithms. To take in their words, to sit with their thoughts, and then—best of all—to unpack them with Lindsey. That kind of conversation lingers, sharpens, refines.

Evening brings a gathering. A dinner table filled with sharp and interesting minds, stories traded like currency, the joy of both giving and receiving. The kids nearby, absorbed in their own acts of creation—drawing, building, imagining. There is no need to shush them; they belong in the mix, the rising generation absorbing by osmosis.

The night ends in warmth—goodbyes at the door, the house settling, the welcome weight of exhaustion that comes from a day well lived. A comfortable bed, the thought of morning coffee already stirring anticipation.

That, I think, is a day worth repeating.