How many times do we think about doing something and end up doing nothing?

We plan the project in our heads. We visualize the finished product. We research, we watch tutorials, we consume hours and hours of content about the thing we want to make, and then the day ends and we haven’t made a single thing. The intention was there, the motivation was there, the idea was there, but something between the thought and the action just stops us in our tracks.

I’ve experienced this more times than I’d like to admit, especially with art. I’ll think up a project, get excited about the possibility of it, and then never start. I’ll spend my time watching other people create instead of creating myself, and I’ll convince myself that the watching is productive when really it’s just a sophisticated form of avoidance. I wrote about this recently, about the paralysis that comes from consuming instead of doing, and the response told me I’m far from the only person dealing with it.

The deeper I went into understanding why this keeps happening, the more I realized that most of the time, the obstacle isn’t a lack of skill or resources or time. The obstacle is me. My ego gets in the way before my hands ever touch the materials. It starts asking questions that don’t need to be answered yet. Does this look good? Is this real art? What will other people think of it? Could I sell this? Should I even bother if it’s not going to be great? Those thoughts flood in before a single mark has been made on the canvas, and they’re completely useless at that stage. They serve no purpose other than to keep me frozen.

The realization I came to was simple. Get out of the way and just make things and let the art speak. Stop letting the ego decide what’s worth making before you’ve even made it. Stop filtering every impulse through a lens of judgment and marketability and comparison. The practice itself is where the learning happens. Through making work, through letting the art be what it wants to be without controlling every aspect of it, you develop your style. You discover things about yourself and your process that thinking alone will never reveal. You end up in places you didn’t think you could go, not through some grand plan, but through the simple act of showing up and creating without an agenda.

It shouldn’t even be a struggle most of the time. It should be a release, an exercise, a moment of letting things happen naturally. Rick Rubin wrote about this beautifully in his book, The Creative Act: A Way of Being. His perspective is that we’re the antenna, the physical vessel for something larger than ourselves. We were blessed with the ability to create as human beings, and that creative impulse is meant to flow through us, not be bottled up by overthinking and self-doubt. You can’t access that flow if you’re stuck in your head analyzing every decision before you make it. You have let yourself act.

What I’ve been doing lately is clearing everything out of my head before I sit down to work. I create with one intent, and that intent is simply to create. That’s it. Not to make something perfect, not to make something sellable, not to make something that impresses anyone. Just to make something. I’ve noticed that when I approach it that way, the work comes easier and the results are more honest than anything I’ve produced while overthinking.

This applies well beyond art too. If you want to read that book, stop thinking about reading it and open it. If you want to write those pages, stop planning the outline for the hundredth time and start putting words down. If you want to cook something new, stop watching recipe videos and get in the kitchen. If you have a business idea, stop researching and start building. There comes a point where thinking becomes a substitute for doing, and recognizing that point is one of the most important things you can learn about yourself.

Get the canvas out. Grab the paint. Start moving your hands. In the process, things happen that your mind never could have predicted from the planning stage. We are all capable of creating something meaningful. The only thing standing in the way most of the time is us.

That question followed me through every level of basketball, from middle school to the NBA, and it’s following me now in a completely different world.

It was never really directed at me as an accusation. I heard it more in conversations about other people. Is he coachable? Is she coachable? It was one of the first things coaches would ask when evaluating a player, and it carried more weight than almost any stat or physical measurement ever could. You could be the most talented person in the room, but if you weren’t coachable, your talent had a ceiling that no amount of ability could break through.

What being coachable really means is the willingness to take direction, to listen to someone who is trying to lead you where you’re trying to go, to play the role that’s needed rather than the role you want. It means understanding that in order to lead, you have to know how to follow first, and that following isn’t weakness. It’s a skill that requires its own kind of strength, especially when the direction you’re being given doesn’t align with what you think you should be doing.

With the Heat, I lived this every single day. They asked me to focus more on defense and rebounding and playing the center position in ways I didn’t always agree with. The style of defense they wanted me to play was very difficult, and there were times when I felt I could do more, and we had those discussions openly. They understood that I had more to offer offensively, but they needed me to do certain things for the team to be successful, not necessarily for my individual success. I had to be coachable enough to accept that, even when my ego was telling me otherwise.

The interesting thing is that when the team succeeds, you succeed along with it. A rising tide lifts every boat in the water. The things I accomplished as part of that team were far greater than anything I could have accomplished alone, and none of it happens if I refuse to be coached into a role that wasn’t my first choice.

What strikes me most is that I’ve been hearing this same question outside of basketball. In business conversations, in networking, in creative collaborations. I haven’t played a professional game in over ten years, and people are still asking: are you coachable? Can you take direction? That tells me this isn’t just a sports concept. It’s a life concept. Whether you’re an employee, an entrepreneur, a creative, a parent, wherever you are, the ability to take direction, learn from others, and contribute to something bigger than yourself is one of the most valuable skills you can develop.

We could all march to the beat of our own drum and refuse to listen to anyone. We could know it all, do it all ourselves, never accept feedback or direction from another person, I just don’t know how far that approach actually takes you. I’ve watched people miss enormous opportunities because they wouldn’t be susceptible to coaching and some of them didn’t even realize that’s what was happening. They thought they were being strong or independent, when really they were cutting themselves off from the very guidance that could have elevated them.

I see it especially in the younger generation right now. The followers, the attention, the feeling that it’s all going to last forever and they don’t need to listen to anybody. I think we’ve all been there at one point or another. That mindset can cost you the chance to be part of something greater, and it can stall your own evolution in ways you won’t recognize until the opportunities have passed.

So ask yourself the question honestly. Are you coachable? Are you willing to be managed? Are you willing to fulfill a role for the greater good, even when that role isn’t the one you envisioned for yourself? Are you going to maintain that willingness when things get tough and staying coachable becomes genuinely uncomfortable?

If the answer is yes, then build that skill the way you’d build any other. Work on it. Be aware of it. Practice it in your daily life, in your relationships, in your career. It’s not something that just happens naturally for most people. It requires humility, patience, and the understanding that the person coaching you might be able to see things you can’t see from where you’re standing.

If the answer is no, that’s your choice. Go do your thing. There’s nothing wrong with charting your own path. Just understand what you might be leaving on the table.

Being coachable got me two championships and experiences I never could have had on my own. I’m glad I listened.

I’m always talking about making art, but I want to take a moment to talk about seeing art and supporting the people who make it.

We tend to think of art as something that lives in big museums in big cities, behind velvet ropes and admission fees, made by people whose names we’ve known for decades. That version of art exists, and it’s wonderful. There’s another version that’s much closer to home though, happening in your own city, probably within minutes of where you live right now, and most of us drive right past it without a second thought.

I recently got to experience something that reminded me of this. There was an event here in Austin called “Home Is Where the Art Is,” and it ran for a few weeks. A friend and artist named Adrian Armstrong, whose work our family has been collecting for years, invited me to come check it out. We actually connected through Instagram, which is one of those beautiful things about this era where social media can lead to real relationships and real experiences if you use it the right way.

The show featured Adrian’s new works alongside several other artists from Central Texas, all of whom had ties to Austin whether they were originally from here or had spent a meaningful portion of their careers in the area. It was a great show, the kind of thing I probably would have driven past a few years ago without thinking anything of it. Now I actively look for those opportunities, and I’m glad I do.

I didn’t buy any art that night, though I’m always open to it. What I got was something different and maybe even more valuable. I got to talk to the artists. Get their social media handle and follow them. Hear about their process in person. Understand their paint choices, their mediums, their reasons for continuing to create. I got to hear about video art and photography and painting from people who are living it every single day, not as famous untouchable figures, but as working artists building their careers one piece at a time.

That’s the part most people miss. We think of artists as people who are so famous we can’t reach them, when the reality is that every artist has a beginning, and most of them are standing right there at a local show, happy to talk about what they do and why they do it. Hearing their stories, understanding why they keep going, exchanging information with them, that was magnificent. There were four artists total, all working in different mediums, and being able to hear different perspectives from different disciplines is exactly the kind of experience that fuels my own creative curiosity.

The whole thing was minutes from my house. It was free to get in and they even had food! The atmosphere was warm and welcoming, full of people who were there to support each other, see good art, and connect with the community. There was nothing intimidating about it. There was nothing exclusive about it. It was just people showing up for creativity.

Art doesn’t always have to be this thing that’s far away or too expensive to enjoy. A piece of art doesn’t have to be valuable on paper to be valuable to you. If someone makes something that makes you happy, that you connect with, that speaks to you in a way you can’t quite explain, then that’s what it’s about. It could be priceless to you regardless of what a gallery would price it at.

I’d encourage you to look for these opportunities in your own area. Art shows, gallery openings, pop-up exhibitions, studio tours. They’re happening more often than you probably realize, and most of them are free or close to it. Take your family, take yourself, or just stop by and check things out if you need to pass the time. You might walk out with a new perspective, a new connection, or a new appreciation for the people in your community who are dedicating their lives to making beautiful things.

One of my greatest pleasures playing in the NBA was the chance to watch great athletes perform up close, not just during games, but behind the scenes, in the moments nobody talks about. The preparation, the routines, the small daily habits that most fans never see because they only witness the finished product on the court. Being on a championship team, I was surrounded by gentlemen who were practitioners of their craft in every area of the game.

None greater than LeBron James.

Getting to see his preparation with the smallest things was inspiring in a way that made me take a hard look at myself and ask what I was doing to help my own performance. When most people think of basketball preparation, they think of getting shots up on the court, working on your handle, running through plays. LeBron embodied so much more than that. Even in our early 20s, and I write about this in my book, he was doing things to take care of his body that the rest of us weren’t thinking about yet. He would stretch twice a day, every single day, and I watched this with my own eyes over the course of years together.

I wouldn’t even stretch once a day.

That stuck with me then, and it sticks with me even more now. In this day and age, watching him continue to perform at the level he’s performing at, I have to laugh a little because we’re the same age. He’s still playing in the NBA in his 24th year, still one of the best players in the league. I played my freshman son in one-on-one recently and was sore for a week and a half. As you get older, your body responds differently, and I’m in that part of life where those high-level workouts just aren’t going to happen the way they used to.

Seeing him not only still compete, but compete at an elite level after all these years is a testament to the daily habits he committed to when nobody was requiring him to do them. The stretching, the body maintenance, the attention to the small things that compound over decades. That’s what separates longevity from a flash in the pan.

I started thinking simpler though. That’s the greatest athlete who has probably ever lived, and I’m not trying to be that. The question I started asking myself was more practical: what can I do in my regular days as a human being to help myself improve? Not as an athlete. As a person. What can I do to be a better performer at being a human being?

Whether that’s paying more attention to the things I eat, knowing full well that I can’t be perfect and I’m going to have my cheat days. Whether that’s getting a good stretch in first thing in the morning, taking five or ten minutes to activate my body before the day takes over. Whether that’s going for a quick walk, even if it means getting up thirty minutes earlier before I have to wake up my kids. These are easy things. These are things any of us can do regardless of our athletic background or fitness level.

I watched the greatest athlete in the world stretch every day, twice a day, for years. The man is still playing professional basketball at the highest level in his 24th season. If stretching twice a day helped him sustain that kind of career, imagine what it could do for a regular person who just wants to feel better, move better, and take care of themselves a little more intentionally.

I think we can all take a page out of that book. I’m not saying become the greatest athlete. I’m not saying train like a professional or overhaul your entire lifestyle overnight. I’m saying move your body around. Go for a walk. Take ten minutes to stretch before your day starts. Do something today that your body will thank you for tomorrow. The greatest to ever do it committed to the simplest habits. That should tell us something about where the real work happens.

Take care of that body. It’s the only one you’ve got.

I’m a person that does a lot of things. If you’ve been reading my work, you already know this. Mosaics, painting, sculpture, music, drawing, photography, coding, collage, metalworking, cooking, martial arts. The list keeps growing, and I don’t see that stopping anytime soon. I go to whatever I’m attracted to, whatever I’m feeling and vibing with at the time and I let the seasons and the years determine which interest gets my attention next. It’s never been a straight line. It’s always been a web.

I know that goes against what a lot of people believe. The conventional wisdom is to pick one thing, master it and pour everything into that singular pursuit. Focus your attention, don’t spread yourself thin, depth over breadth. I’ve heard it all, and I understand why people think that way. There’s real value in deep focus.

Somebody told me once that I was a jack of all trades but a master of none. They said it like it was supposed to be an insult, like dabbling in many things meant I wasn’t serious about any of them. What most people don’t know is that the full phrase doesn’t end there. The complete version goes: “A jack of all trades is a master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one.” Once I did my own research and found that out, it changed the way I thought about my own path. I took it on for my life.

Here’s what I’ve found from living this way. When you have a lot of hobbies, you’re never bored. You’re always interested in something. You’re always pushing your brain in a direction it hasn’t gone before, which keeps everything fresh and alive in a way that singular focus sometimes doesn’t. I don’t do all of my interests at the same time, but as the seasons change and the years go on, I’ll revisit photography three or four times over a couple of years, pick up the guitar again after months away, go back to drawing after a stretch of working with mosaics. The interests rotate, and each time I come back to one, something fascinating happens.

The information compounds. The brain continues to work and filter through everything, even when you’re not actively thinking about it. When you study something for a period of time and then step away from it, that knowledge doesn’t disappear. It settles into your mind and when you revisit it, you often come back sharper than when you left. I’ve seen it in myself and I’ve watched it happen with my kids. They’ll be learning piano or dance or basketball, and then they might not do it for a month during the summer. When we revisit those activities, they haven’t missed a step. The movements are better, the retention is stronger, the understanding is deeper. The break didn’t hurt them. It helped.

I also believe that learning across disciplines makes you better at each individual one. Learning piano helps you with basketball because it develops coordination, timing, and discipline in a completely different context. Painting helps you become a better electrician because it trains your eye for detail and your patience for process. Photography helps you become a better lawyer because it teaches you to frame a story and pay attention to what most people overlook. Playing basketball makes you a better teacher because it teaches you about teamwork, communication, and how to perform under pressure. These connections aren’t always obvious, but they’re real. The skills transfer in ways you don’t expect until you’re in the middle of something and realize your brain already knows how to handle it because you trained it somewhere else.

I want to encourage you to embrace having a lot of interests. There’s nothing wrong with it. Don’t feel like you’re wasting time or not utilizing your talents because you’re spread across multiple pursuits. Don’t let anyone make you feel like curiosity is a weakness. If you want to focus on one thing, that’s great, do it with everything you’ve got. If you find yourself drawn to many things, that’s great too, because that breadth of experience is building something inside of you that a single focus can’t replicate.

Have a lot of interests. Explore them on your own terms. Let the seasons determine what gets your attention. Trust that the information compounds even when you step away.

Pat Riley had this phrase that he would bring up all the time from the moment I arrived in Miami and throughout every season we spent together chasing championships.

The moment of truth. He would talk about it in meetings, in conversations, in passing and addressing the team. Over and over, like a drumbeat underneath everything we did. When an older gentleman who has mastered his craft and won championships across multiple decades keeps repeating the same phrase, you listen. Even if you don’t fully understand it yet.

I have to be honest, I didn’t understand it at first. When someone with that much experience gives you a one-liner like that, it sits in the back of your mind as a concept, something you can nod along to without truly comprehending the weight of it. The understanding doesn’t come from hearing the words. It comes from living the moment they describe.

What Pat was talking about was your actions when it’s time to face the ultimate challenge. When everything you’ve been working toward is on the line and the pressure is real and the doubts are creeping in and your body is exhausted and the outcome is uncertain. What are you going to do in that moment? Are you going to continue to believe in your preparation? Are you going to trust the work you’ve put in? Are you going to get back on defense when your legs are telling you to stop? Are you going to keep a positive presence for your teammates even when someone makes a mistake, even when you make a mistake? Are you going to dive on the floor for a loose ball because the possession is that important, even though your body is screaming at you to stay down?

The moment of truth reveals who you are. It strips away everything you’ve said about yourself and shows what you actually do when it matters most. I’ve watched people quit in those moments. At every level, from middle school basketball to the NBA Finals, you can see it happen in real time. The body language changes, the effort drops, the belief disappears from someone’s eyes. Sports is one of the few arenas where you get to witness that moment live, which is what makes it so great and so brutal at the same time. There’s nowhere to hide when the cameras are on and the game is on the line and everyone is watching how you respond.

The moment of truth isn’t always a championship situation though. Sometimes it’s believing you’re going to make a team when the odds aren’t in your favor. Sometimes it’s putting in the work when nobody is looking because you told yourself you would. Sometimes it’s being there for your children because you said you wouldn’t miss a game, even though something else came up that feels important. The decision to follow through on what you committed to, especially when it’s hard, especially when it would be easier to make an excuse, that’s the moment of truth playing out in everyday life.

In my case, when that moment arrived, I chose to perform. Even when doubt came, I believed in myself. I believed in my team. I believed in my mentors and in my preparation and in the idea that the hard work I had put in was going to be enough. I believed in everything, because the moment of truth doesn’t leave room for partial belief. You’re either all the way in or the moment exposes you.

The older I get, the more I understand what Pat was really saying. The moment of truth carries so much more weight than sports. Sports is just the physical manifestation of something that happens to all of us, continuously, in every area of our lives. The decisions we make when things get difficult, the way we show up when following through is inconvenient, the actions we take when nobody would blame us for giving up. Those are all moments of truth, and they’re coming for every single one of us.

Think about that for yourself. When your moment arrives, and it will, what are you going to do? Keep believing. Stay with it. Trust the preparation. Trust yourself.

The moment of truth is out there waiting. Make sure you’re ready for it.

It’s kind of strange walking in my shoes sometimes.

I was in Las Vegas for Summer League, walking through one of those massive hotel conference halls on my way to give a fireside chat. The NBA had asked me to speak about how important it is for community-facing staff on NBA teams to connect with players, sharing my experience and initiatives they could run. We were moving through the ballrooms, passing people having lunch, heading toward the stage where I’d be speaking.

As we walked through one of the large hallways, a young lady ran me down. She had to be in her mid twenties, and she was out of breath with this look on her face like she’d been waiting for this moment.

She started telling me her story. Years ago, when she was a kid, she saw a campaign I was part of called Hour of Code through Code.org, an initiative designed to motivate kids to learn how to code. I did it because coding was one of my hobbies growing up. Being on a computer, speaking to technology, understanding how software works, those things always fascinated me. When the opportunity came up to be part of that campaign, I jumped at it without hesitation.

What I didn’t realize at the time was how massive the operation actually was. The videos were shown in a large portion of schools throughout the United States, with Mark Zuckerberg, Will.I.Am, and others participating alongside me. It reached far more people than I ever imagined.

This young woman was one of those kids.

She told me that campaign helped inspire her to learn to code, and now she’s working for the Miami Heat. In the film room, if I’m remembering correctly, going on her fourth or fifth year with the organization. Working her way up, grinding through the business, with her sights set on coaching one day.

I stood there kind of in shock. Because when I recorded that Hour of Code video, I was just doing something I enjoyed. I was being myself. I wasn’t thinking about some linear path from making a coding video to inspiring a future NBA employee. I just did it because I liked it and the opportunity was there. We happened to be winning championships at the time, sitting at the top of the basketball world, and that platform luckily helped the message reach more people than I could have imagined. Those kids from back then are grown now, which boggles my mind every time I think about it.

The takeaway for me was simple. You never know who you inspire, and you never know in what way. I would never have thought that coding would be the thing someone stopped me in a hallway to talk about. Not basketball, not championships, not anything related to the court. Coding. A hobby I picked up as a kid because I was curious about computers. That’s the thing that changed her trajectory.

That only happened because I was bold enough to be genuine about my interests. Coding wasn’t a normal thing for an athlete to talk about, especially back then. It went against the grain of what people expected from someone in my position. It was just me though, and because it was real, it resonated with someone who needed to see it at exactly the right time.

I think there’s something in that for all of us. Be bold with your hobbies and interests. Be genuine about the things you care about, even if they don’t fit the mold of what people expect from you. Do things because you enjoy them, not because you’re calculating the outcome, because the outcome might be something you could never have planned for.

That young woman’s grind is her story to tell. Knowing I played even a small part in sparking it is one of the coolest things that’s ever happened to me, and it happened because I was just being myself.

You never know who’s watching. You never know what lands. Just be genuine and keep going.

At one point in time, I was obsessed with the culture of our armed forces, in particular the special operations groups and the mentality that drives them.

When I was playing basketball, I wanted to get inside the mind and the psyche of a true warrior, someone ready and willing to do what’s necessary to protect this country. I wanted to understand what drove that level of discipline and commitment, because I believed there was something buried in their approach that could help me compete at a higher level on the court.

In 2008, during our quest for a gold medal, I had the pleasure of meeting a member of our armed forces who had been given awards for his bravery. He had stopped a deadly situation by opening fire on an approaching vehicle that was strapped with a bomb, protecting his comrades from what could have been catastrophic. Through his act of bravery, the shrapnel from the exploding vehicle permanently blinded him. Despite this happening, he later elected to continue serving in the military.

Standing next to this man as an Olympian, hearing him speak about his experience, it was humbling in a way that I can’t fully describe. This person was braver than I could ever be. His sacrifice was real in a way that made everything I had given up feel small by comparison, and that was the point. That’s exactly what it did for me. It made me not want to complain about anything. It made me want to press forward with everything I had, because if this man could continue to serve after losing his sight, then what excuse did I possibly have for taking a day off or feeling sorry for myself?

Him, amongst many other men and women veterans and active duty members I’ve had the privilege of meeting over the years, always inspired me to dig deeper into whatever challenge was in front of me. Their goals were life and death while mine were basketball games, and if they could show up every single day under those conditions with that level of focus and sacrifice, I could absolutely show up under mine.

One of the phrases that I always heard from that world was simple: the only easy day was yesterday. I wanted to live by that because it really puts into perspective how things are in our quest for being great or accomplishing goals. It’s not easy work to get where we want to go, and that phrase is a total mind melt when you sit with it long enough. If yesterday was a hard day, then what is today? It’s harder. Tomorrow will be harder than that. Not because life is punishing you, but because you’re climbing, and each step up the mountain requires more effort, more focus, and more commitment than the last one did.

That philosophy helped me get through to the next level more times than I can count. On the days when practice was brutal, when the season was grinding me down, when I didn’t want to show up, I’d remind myself that the only easy day was yesterday. It reframed everything. It took the complaint out of my mouth before I could even say it, because if yesterday was easy by comparison, then today is just the next challenge, and challenges are what we signed up for when we decided we wanted something meaningful.

I think about the people who live this every single day. Not athletes, not businesspeople. The men and women in uniform who wake up knowing that the stakes are as high as they can possibly be. Their version of “the only easy day was yesterday” isn’t a motivational phrase on a wall. It’s their reality, every morning, without exception.

Whenever I feel like my day is hard, or the work is too much, or the mountain is too steep, I think about that soldier who lost his sight and kept serving. That thought alone keeps me going. I’d encourage you to sit with that phrase for yourself. The only easy day was yesterday. Let that settle in. Because as we try to climb whatever mountain is in front of us, each step isn’t always going to feel manageable. If we can adopt that mindset though, if we can wake up knowing that today is supposed to be harder than yesterday and accept that as part of the process, I think it changes how we prepare mentally for what’s ahead.

The only easy day was yesterday.

My good friend told me something during our conversation that I haven’t been able to shake. He said the best work happens when you stop trying to know what you’re doing and just get lost in it. Just play around, mess with things, see what happens. He’s a successful artist, and even he admits that he doesn’t always know where a piece is going when he starts. He just starts, and the discovery happens along the way.

That stuck with me because I’ve been doing the opposite. I have to be honest. I’ve found myself watching more tutorials than actually creating. More thinking than doing. More consuming than making. I’ll sit down to work on something, and instead of picking up the materials and getting into it, I’ll pull up YouTube and watch someone else do it first. Then another video follows, and then another one after that, and before I know it, I’ve spent an hour watching other people create and haven’t made a single thing myself.

I think a lot of us are in that space right now. There’s so much information available that we’ve convinced ourselves we need to learn everything before we can start anything. We want to be prepared, we want to know the right technique, the right tools, the right way to approach it. Somewhere in that process though, the watching replaces the doing, and the doing is where the real learning happens.

Bob Ross used to say “happy accidents.” Those moments where the paint goes somewhere you didn’t intend and it turns out better than what you planned. Here’s the thing though. You can’t have a happy accident if you’re sitting on the couch watching someone else paint. Those accidents only happen when your hands are in it, when you’re lost in the process and something unexpected shows up that you never would have found in a tutorial.

Getting lost is uncomfortable, and I’m not going to pretend it isn’t. Especially the older we get, we want to know what we’re doing. We want to feel competent. We want to be an automatic expert and see results immediately, and that’s just not how it goes. The discomfort of not knowing, of fumbling through something, of making work that doesn’t look the way you want it to look, that’s the part most people avoid.

From point A to point B though, there is an exploratory process that you can’t skip. The only way to access it is to let your guard down, let loose and stop judging yourself. Let that inner child out, the one who used to draw and paint and build things without worrying about whether it was good or not. That kid didn’t watch a tutorial before picking up a crayon. They just picked it up and went wherever their imagination took them.

That’s the best part about making art. It’s a time to break away from the status quo, a time to step outside of the structured, productive, goal-oriented way we live the rest of our lives and just explore. In that exploration, you stumble across things you wouldn’t have found following a step-by-step guide. Techniques reveal themselves when you’re messing around with no plan, and pieces of yourself come out that only emerge when you’re not performing for anyone, including yourself.

I’m trying to get there. I’m trying to close the laptop, put down the phone, and just do it. Less watching, more making, more getting lost and being okay with not knowing where it’s going.

If you’ve been stuck in the cycle of consuming instead of creating, thinking instead of doing, planning instead of starting, this is your push. Close the tutorial, pick up the thing, and get lost in it. The best discoveries are waiting on the other side of not knowing what you’re doing.

It’s crazy how time flies.

1996 was thirty years ago. That’s hard to wrap my head around, especially now that my children are around the same age I was back then. Around twelve years old. That impressionable stretch of life where you start really remembering things and coming into your own as a person. You’re having experiences with your friends, forming opinions, developing interests, becoming a person. And summer, in particular, was always the time when that happened the most.

I think as a family, we’ve always had a nostalgia for the summer. The feeling of being outside around the trees, swimming, hanging out with friends, being free of the obligations from school for a little while. Having those holiday barbecues in the sun with close family and friends coming over. Maybe you even get to take a trip somewhere out of town.

One of the places I frequented every summer as a kid was Dayton, Ohio. My grandmother lived there on Dennison Street, stone’s throw from Dunbar High School. My parents would ship us off to spend the summer with her, and it’s crazy to thing how different time was back then. There weren’t as many things to do as a kid then they have now, especially if you were in the house with old folks. She was a hard working woman that lived a modest life. We were fortunate that she had two televisions in the house hold, one in the front room and one in the back room, neither of which had cable. We had maybe eight channels to choose from at the most. I tell my kids that now and they can’t even comprehend how you could function as a kid with that limited amount of entertainment and I always laugh about it.

One of the things that was always on TV during the summer of 1996 was the Olympics. It was in Atlanta that year, so it felt like it was right there in our backyard. They showed coverage around the clock on TV on NBC, and I watched every sport they put on happy to watch something current instead of re runs of Barney and old black and white TV shows like The Addams Family and Gunsmoke. The Olympics had everything: Women’s gymnastics, men’s fencing, basketball, track and field, water polo, cycling, the marathon, the decathlon. Since there were a limited amount of public channels and this was a time for sports on TV, I devoured it all. I was already one of those kids that was into sports, and the Dream Team in 1992 had made an impression on me when I was eight years old, but by twelve, something deeper was happening.

There was a spirit about it that I got caught up in easily. Watching the superstars of tomorrow getting their chance to compete on a worldwide stage. That instant glory of winning a medal after a lifetime of preparation and sacrifice. On top of that, the sense of pride watching it as a citizen, seeing the United States be successful over and over, dominating sports. That was such a cool thing as a kid.

I remember specifically watching the women’s gymnastics team win the gold medal as a team ending in a dramatic finish. They were dealing with injury, pushing through pain, showing perseverance. All of those qualities you want in leaders and champions. People you could be proud of and hope to be one day. I was enamored by that. It stuck in my brain in a way that I don’t think ever left.

That summer is when I truly believe I started visualizing in a real way. I was already an aspiring basketball player, and somewhere in the back of my mind I thought, man, I would love to be in the Olympics one day. But watching those athletes, regardless of the sport, my imagination started taking over ( Plus Dream Team 2 were dominating Basketball). I started putting myself in those positions. Seeing myself on that stage, feeling what it might feel like to compete for my country and be successful. I’d draw pictures of myself on a Wheaties Boxes holding up my Gold Medal with the staring smolder a world champion should have.

I went from being eight years old watching the Dream Team to twelve years old dreaming about being on the team. And that dream didn’t stay a dream. Eventually, I got to play for my country and win a gold medal. I got to have the experiences that my heroes had and I don’t think any of that happens without that summer in Dayton, sitting in my grandmother’s house with eight channels, watching everything the Olympics had to offer.

It started with being a fan. It started with admiration and then it grew into belief. It’s crazy because the belief eventually became real. I’d encourage you to think about that for yourself. What are you a fan of right now? What do you admire? What gives you that feeling where your imagination starts to take over and you can see yourself doing it? Start there. Take in those feelings and there’s nothing wrong with that. Take in all the information you can and visualize yourself in those positions, because you never know where it leads.

Without being a fan first, without believing first, I don’t think I would have been pressed enough to end up where I did. You have to see it before you can chase it. And you have to chase it before you can catch it.

I had a conversation with an artist friend of mine recently, and it really stuck with me. We were talking about creating, about the challenges of trying to be a professional in the art world, and what it takes to sustain that over time. And as he talked about his own practice, it reminded me of something I knew from basketball but hadn’t thought about in a while.

In his instance, he’s always painting, that’s his practice. No matter what day it is, during business hours he’s always working on something. He’s consistently doing his art, and because of that consistency, he’s able to do it at the level he does it and keep up with the demand that he’s built. It’s not magic. It’s not talent alone, that’s why they call it practice. It’s the fact that he shows up and does the work so often that it’s become a natural muscle. It’s just what he does. That hit me, because I think we all have to ask ourselves that question. What am I consistent in?

If you’re consistent in complaining, you’re always going to be complaining. If you’re consistent in working out, that’s going to show. If you’re consistent in reading, in practicing the piano, in drawing, in whatever it is you say you want to get better at, that consistency is going to compound into something real. But if you’re not consistent, then the goal is just a wish.

I think any highly self-motivated person wants to be good at the things they do. Whether that’s professionally or socially. Whether it’s CrossFit on the weekends with friends where things get a little competitive, hiking, cooking, or building something new. Those environments that push you, those people that push you, being around that consistently makes a difference. But the consistency has to come from you first.

I’m trying to take this on for myself right now. I’m trying to be more in the mode of saying, I can be more consistent. That’s always the challenge. It’s easy to do something once or twice and feel good about it. It’s harder to do it every day, especially when nobody is watching and nobody is asking you to.

When it all comes down to it, if you put in the consistent work and you reach wherever it is you’re trying to go, you’ll be able to say something that matters: this is what I do. Not this is what I tried. Not this is what I dabbled in. This is what I do every day and it’s part of who I am.

There are degrees to everything between the person you are right now and the person you want to become. Consistency is what closes that gap. Not one big moment. Not one great week. The daily repetition of showing up and doing the thing, even if it’s only for five minutes. Draw something. Write something. Practice something. Just get in the habit, because the habit is what builds the muscle, and the muscle is what makes it feel natural.

My artist friend doesn’t struggle to create because he’s been doing it so consistently that it’s just part of his day. That’s where I want to be. That’s where I think we all want to be with the things that matter to us.

So I’m challenging myself, and I’m challenging you. Ask yourself, what are you consistent in right now? And if there’s something you want to go after, are you willing to practice it consistently enough that one day you can look someone in the eye and say, this is what I do?

Start today. Be consistent.

If you’ve been following along, we’ve talked about a lot of things. Sacrifice. Accountability. Doubt. Preparation. Adjustments. Consistency. What to do when your back is against the wall. All of those things live inside something bigger. They’re all part of a process. And you have to trust it.

I know the phrase has become a joke. The memes, the references, the way it got attached to one person and kind of backfired. But strip all of that away, and the truth underneath is real. Trusting the process isn’t about a slogan. It’s about believing that the everyday things you’re doing to get better will eventually pay off, even when you can’t see the results yet.

The process is the daily rituals. It’s showing up, doing the work, going through the hardships, and knowing that something good is going to come out of it. Not hoping. Knowing. Because you’ve put the work in, and work doesn’t lie.

Most people struggle with this part because results don’t always come when we want them to. We get stretched out of our comfort zone. We get uncomfortable. And when the discomfort lasts longer than expected, we start to question everything. We stop believing. We stop participating. We look for shortcuts or we quit altogether. That’s exactly when trusting the process matters most, because that’s the point where most people walk away.

For me, trusting the process really came into view in Toronto. I was working as hard as I could with our team to be better. To improve. To win. And we did see improvements, but they didn’t come as quickly as we wanted. The results weren’t matching the effort. And that’s a hard place to sit in, because you’re doing everything right and it’s still not enough. Not yet. We had to continue showing up every day. We had to keep working even when the wins weren’t coming because the process isn’t about instant results. It’s about building a foundation strong enough to hold whatever you’re trying to build on top of it. And foundations take time.

I wanted to be successful. I wanted to win. And I had to trust that by going through the daily grind, the preparation, the sacrifices, the accountability, the adjustments. Something was being built underneath me that would eventually hold weight. It didn’t happen in one season. It happened over years. And when it finally came together in Miami, I could look back and see that every single day of the process, even the ones that felt pointless, contributed to where we ended up.

Trusting the process doesn’t mean trusting blindly. It means learning from mentors and people who have been through it before. It means having a plan and committing to it. It means understanding that what you’re doing isn’t random. It’s intentional. And if it’s intentional, and you’re consistent, and you’re accountable, and you’re willing to make the adjustments along the way, then you can trust that the process will take you where you need to go.

You don’t have to see the finish line to keep running. You just have to trust that the road you’re on is leading somewhere.

One of my favorite parts about our time in Miami was the fashion.

I don’t know how it started exactly, but it always felt like a friendly competition between the Big Three. We all had our own styles, and they were all very different, which I loved. But my favorite part, especially during games, was seeing what these guys were going to wear on game days. In particular, Dwayne. I wanted to see what Dwayne Wade was going to wear, because I knew it was going to be something eclectic and something I’d never seen before.

During that time, fashion and the NBA started to merge in a way they hadn’t before, and I want to say we helped guide that. We had our stylists, we had our taste, and we had things we wanted to wear. Walking into the arena with all the cameras there, it was sort of like its own runway and we treated it that way.

For a while, I was really into the fashion world. I’d go to Fashion Week in New York at the end of every summer before the season started. It was like the last hangout before the season started. And through that, I got deep into the art of fashion. Meeting designers, visiting houses that have been around for decades crafting what people would wear around the world. Getting to know people who took their craft as seriously as any athlete takes theirs.

If you’ve ever been to a fashion show, it’s one of the most interesting things you’ll experience. People work for months and weeks, if not their whole lives, tirelessly for just a few minutes on the runway. You usually see the highlights on TV or online, the famous people sitting in the front row, the bizarre outfits designed to get attention. But being there in person is different. Watching a collection shown on models, listening to the music that was chosen to accompany it, taking in the ambience from the decorations to the way the runway is shaped. Everything is curated. Everything is intentional. It enhances and embodies the vision of the designer. That’s art.

New York is one of the Meccas for fashion. People move there specifically to work at different design houses and try their luck with ateliers and shops. We see fashion as a prominent cultural force now in a way that’s bigger than it’s ever been.

I always wanted to take a gentlemanly approach with my my own style. That’s why you always saw me in suits. If you look at the old pictures, I was always wearing suits, different jackets and trousers, dressing like a gentleman would. That was my playground. My way of expressing myself walking into the building. I’m not going to lie, it got challenging and expensive and uncomfortable after a while wearing all of that, but I enjoyed it. That was my version of self expression through clothing and I wanted to project that I was there to take care of business when I walked in an arena.

I’m in a different phase now. I’m a dad. I live where I live. My taste is always changing. I’m not as deep into it as I used to be, but it’s still a part of my daily life. Because the truth is, what you wear every day is a form of expression whether you think about it or not. It reflects how you feel, where you’re from, and what’s important to you.

I’m not telling you to go out and spend money on clothes or follow trends. I’m saying pay attention to yourself. Pay attention to the colors you’re drawn to, because that’s a palette. Pay attention to the cuts you like, the fabrics that feel right, the things that catch your eye when you’re scrolling or flipping through a magazine. Those preferences say something about who you are.

And know that you can dress for situations and feelings accordingly. How you present yourself to the world is a choice you make every morning. That choice is its own kind of art.

Sports in real time is a tough business.

Especially at the professional level, especially if you’re trying to hold yourself accountable and get better. And it’s not just sports. It’s business, finance, education, dealing with people in your community. Real time is real time. It’s not a video game. It’s not a joke. There’s no pause button.

You always hear about the Monday morning quarterback. The person sitting on the couch the day after the game telling you what the coach should have done. What the player should have done. That’s part of the criticism that comes with anything done publicly. But the people in the arena aren’t worried about Monday morning. They’re worried about the next play, the next possession, the next adjustment.

Because that’s the beauty of sports and coaching. The GM and the president have the long term view. The adjustments needed for the city, for the players, for the staff, for running the business as a whole. The coach has the x’s and o’s. The strategies. The motivational things needed in the moment. And the players have to execute and adjust on the fly.

You might be a manager. You might be a clerk. You might be running your own business or raising kids or trying to get through a hard week at school. There are different adjustments we all have to make. The question is, what adjustments are we making to get better? Most of the time we have to make plans. That’s necessary and hugely important. But plans don’t always work out, especially in real time situations. You’re going to be asked to make adjustments on the fly. And you can take that as a life outlook too.

I ask myself that question all the time. How am I adjusting? Whether it’s adjusting a message to my kids when the way I’m saying it isn’t landing. Adjusting how I talk to a coworker when the original approach isn’t working. Adjusting my schedule when something more important comes up. Adjusting my attitude when I can feel it bringing the room down. What adjustments am I making for the greater good? That’s a huge question, and it’s one we have to take on ourselves.

I want to give you the other side too. Don’t make adjustments just to please your ego. That’s the easiest thing we can all do. I’m going to make an adjustment and shoot every shot on offense. That’s not what I’m talking about. That’s not adjusting. That’s hijacking the situation for yourself. Real adjustments are about being aware of where you are. Reading the situation honestly. Asking yourself what change is going to make you and the people around you more successful. And then making it.

Don’t point at everybody else when you hear the word adjustments. People want to point at their boss, their coach, their manager, the person above them. What they should have done. What they could have done. What they would have done. Forget that. Make the adjustments that you need to make to help you and the team be successful when you need to make them.

I know that’s an esoteric statement. I can’t tell you exactly when or how to handle every situation you’ll face. Nobody can. I can only tell you that adjustments are coming. Be ready to make them, and be accountable for them when you do.

The plan is the starting point. The adjustment is what gets you there.

When I was a kid, I was fascinated by the idea that you could put a seed in the dirt and it would grow. I think most of us go through that at some point. I’ve been watching my children go through it right now, the projects they bring home from class, the things they talk about, the excitement of watching something change. It reminded me of when I used to feel the same way. You just get so busy with life that you forget about cool stuff like that. You stop thinking about it. Not until you’re much older, when people tend to circle back to gardens and plants and growing things. But I think we should all stay into it, because it’s interesting and it’s all around us. And it’s a form of life!

I remember summers in Dayton, Ohio, staying with my grandma. There was a woman across the street who grew these wonderful gardens. Nothing huge. Just tomatoes, different plants, herbs. I can’t remember exactly what she had, but as a kid, seeing something like that, watching things come out of the ground that someone planted and cared for, it showed you what’s possible. Especially due to the fact that it was in the middle of the neighborhood. It was a small, quiet kind of magic.

My wife connects with this deeply. That’s her thing. That’s how she connects with her roots. She gets out and plants flowers all over the yard at a certain point every year, and the next thing you know, there are flowers everywhere. It makes the house beautiful and watching her do it reminded me that this has always been around me in some form.

With my family, I’ve gotten back into it. Nothing crazy. We have a small garden that we enjoy growing out here and learning alongside them has been a reminder of how much we stop paying attention to as adults. The basics of how a plant grows from a seed. The soil, the seasons, the sunlight, the water. We all learned about this as children. We drew the illustrations in class. We watched the time-lapse videos. And then somewhere along the way, we stopped learning about it.

The point I want to make is that we should keep learning.

There’s something grounding about working with nature. Putting your hands in the dirt, planting something, waiting for it, and watching it come up, taking care of it. It requires patience. It requires attention. And it costs almost nothing. A seed in the dirt is damn near free. An herb system for your kitchen is inexpensive. The technology out there now makes it easier than ever to grow things indoors year round if you want to.

But beyond the practical side, there’s something deeper about it. Nature has its own process. It doesn’t rush. It doesn’t skip steps. A seed doesn’t become a flower overnight. It goes through stages, and each one matters. There’s a lesson in that for all of us, and it’s one I keep relearning through my kids.

Maybe we can all learn from them. Maybe we can all learn from nature. The things that have always been around us, the things we used to wonder about as children, they’re still there. We just stopped looking.

A lot of people say they want certain things. Are they prepared to get them?

That’s the question that separates the people who talk about it from the people who actually do it. Are you prepared? Are you doing the things and putting in the work to be ready when the moment comes? Because most people only see the team lifting the trophy, the driver winning the championship, the person walking across the stage to accept the promotion. They don’t see what came before.

There was a saying we had: the easiest thing you’re going to do in this whole process is lift the trophy up. That’s the easiest thing you’ll do the entire process. Because by the time you’re holding it, the hard part is already over. The preparation is what got you there. When the moment comes, it comes fast. It comes quick. And if you’re not prepared, it will pass right by you. From my experience, the moments often arrive in ways we can’t even fathom. They don’t always look the way we pictured them. So we have to be prepared in a lot of different ways, not just one.

For me, preparation meant working on my craft constantly. Knowing where I was going to get my shots within the team offense. Watching a huge amount of film on myself and on my opponents. Knowing what plays they’d run, where the opponent I was guarding wanted to get the ball, his strengths, his weaknesses, the things he had been successful with before, and how I could mitigate it. That was preparation. Not just being in shape physically, which is super important, but being in shape mentally as well. Going into stressful situations with a clear head, because we trained for that too. That’s why I meditated. That’s why I practiced visualization and still doing it to this day. I was preparing every part of myslef for moments that hadn’t happened yet.

People only want to show the great moments. They don’t show the hours and hours and days and years of preparation that go into them. A softball pitcher has to practice, study her opponent, do her work in school, listen to her coach, prepare her body, eat the vegetables, eat the carbs, eat the protein and know her pitches inside and out. Preparation isn’t something that happens the day before the game. Preparation is a lifetime of things.

I tried to prepare myself by working out, staying in shape, watching a ton of film, working on my weaknesses, taking accountability for the things I had messed up on, and strengthening the parts of my game that needed it. There are so many ways to prepare yourself. Preparation is one inch wide and a mile deep. The deeper you go, the more there is.

Whatever it is you’re chasing, prepare yourself. If you’re training for a marathon, you have to eat right, you have to train, you can’t take too many days off. You have to prepare. If you’re trying to get a promotion, you have to do the work before the opportunity even shows up. If you’re trying to build something new, you have to put in the hours when nobody is watching.

Because here’s the truth: when it’s live, there’s no faking it. You can tell the people who have prepared and the people who haven’t. The work shows. So does the lack of it. So please, prepare yourself. Whatever it takes for you to be ready, find out what that looks like and do it.

Remember, the easiest thing you’ll do is lift the trophy. Everything before it is the real work. So I’ll ask you this question. Are you prepared? If not, start the process of getting prepared today!

When I was a kid, my family had this thing where we’d stop at construction sites and look at houses. I don’t know if it was a family tradition or just curiosity, but it seemed like everybody did it. My dad, my uncles, we’d pull up to a neighborhood that was being built and just look. Walk around and look at the progress. I remember doing it so many times growing up that it became normal. Just something we did. I didn’t realize it at the time, but those visits were giving me an education in architecture.

As a kid, what fascinated me most was being able to see the wood version of the house. The skeleton before the walls went up. You could see what’s in between the walls, where the electricity runs, where the wires go, the foundation underneath everything, the framing of the roof. My dad used to roof houses, so seeing all of those layers up close, understanding how a structure comes together from the ground up, that stuck with me.

As I got older and started traveling to different parts of the world, that early curiosity turned into a real appreciation for architecture as an art form. Because it is an art form. It’s a necessary one, something society literally cannot function without, but the best of it goes far beyond function. The way a building looks, the way it moves your eye, the materials used, the features that were chosen, the way it sits on the land. All of that is designed by someone with a vision.

And it changes everywhere you go. Different cultures use different materials. Different climates and cultures dictate different designs. Spanish tile roofs in one place, glass and steel in another, stone pillars in another. The history is embedded in the architecture. Certain buildings look a certain way because of the period they were built in, the resources that were available, the people who were there. You can really nerd out on it if you start paying attention.

If you’re a homeowner, you know how many things go into a house. More than you think about. The rooms, the layout, the flow, the light, the functionality of the space and how you use it. Every decision was made by someone. And in the best cases, those decisions were made with artistry, not just practicality.

Museums are a perfect example. The building itself is often designed by a renowned architect, chosen specifically to house art inside a piece of art. The architecture shapes how you experience everything inside it. The way the light enters, the height of the ceilings, the way you move from room to room. That’s all intentional. That’s all designed.

I’ve always been interested in space. Not outer space, but the space around us. The functionality of it, the look of it, the feel of it. How a building makes you feel when you walk in. How a neighborhood changes the way you experience a city. How the design of your own home affects your daily life in ways you might not even notice.

It all started with stopping at construction sites with my dad and my uncles, watching houses go up from nothing. Seeing the bones before the skin. And now, wherever I go in the world, I’m still looking. Still noticing how things are built, why they look the way they do, and what the person who designed them was trying to say.

Architecture is everywhere. It’s the most visible art form we have, and most of us walk through it every day without thinking about it.

Look around, start noticing it, start thinking about it.

One of the main things that separates good from great is consistency.

Not talent. Not a single moment. Not a flash of brilliance. Consistency. How often you show up. How your output looks when you do. How you act, how you communicate, how you carry yourself, day after day after day.

An easy person to look at is LeBron. He can be polarizing to a lot of people for a lot of different reasons. How he plays, how he carries himself, whatever it might be, but one thing nobody can deny is that he is consistent. He will consistently take care of his body. He will consistently be available and show up to work. He will consistently give you good output. Year after year after year. That’s what separates him and that’s what separates a lot of people at the top of whatever they do.

A lot of people want great things. They want to accomplish their dreams, but the consistency is lacking. They show up strong for a week, a month, maybe a season, and then it fades. You seen it in sports all the time. Remember those athletes who were good but had a flash in the pan career? It happened fast, and it was over fast. That wasn’t always about talent. It can be many different reason why it didn’t work out, but a lot of the time it was about consistency. Were they dependable? Were they consistently available? Were they consistent in their attitude and their ability to be a good team player? Those things are huge.

What do I mean when I say consistency? If you’re a worker, it could showing up on time and always getting your work done. It’s how you communicate every day, not just on the good days. It’s incorporating all the tools you’ve learned to help the people around you get to where they’re going. It’s being dependable, because people know what they’re going to get from you on a daily basis. They can count on you because you’re the same person Monday through Friday despite what may be going on in your personal life.

Life will throw things at us that knock us off course. That’s guaranteed. I’m not saying you have to be perfect every single day. What I’m saying is be consistent in every aspect that you can whether it’s being present or giving good effort.

I say consistency with both an homage and a warning. Pay attention to what you’re consistent in, because it works both ways. If you’re consistently a good teammate, people will want you around. If you’re consistently an asshole, people won’t want to deal with you. Consistency builds your reputation whether you’re paying attention to it or not.

The sun rises every morning. We can damn near bank on that happening because the sun is consistent. Think of that analogy for yourself. What are you consistently bringing to the table? What can people depend on you to do? What will you reliably deliver as a practitioner of your craft?

Sometimes that question gets lost in the pursuit of the big goal. We’re so focused on the destination that we forget the daily habits that get us there. If you want to be someone who’s reliable, trustworthy, someone people can count on, ask yourself: am I consistently good?

Because consistently good is how you become consistently great.

Another art that I appreciate deeply is the martial arts.

Nobody really refers to it that way. Most people say self defense, or karate, or fighting. But it’s right there in the name. Martial arts. It’s an art form, and it’s one that’s been with me since I was a kid.

It started at Cedar Valley Community College in Dallas. My parents would take us to the different programs at public facilities, the library, community centers, whatever was available for kids in the community. Karate was one of them. And for whatever reason, martial arts bleeds into every young boy’s psyche growing up. Whether it’s grabbing sticks and pretending they’re swords, or watching kung fu influenced movies on repeat, it’s just there. I watched my share of them. All the classics. One of my favorites in the space was Bruce Lee.

I watched every Bruce Lee movie on VHS tapes growing up. I even saw Kareem Abdul-Jabbar in The Game of Death, and I thought it was the coolest thing in the world that a basketball player was into the martial arts, participating in film, and integrating it all together. But beyond the fight scenes, which are incredible feats of athleticism and art in themselves, it was Bruce Lee’s words that stuck with me.

One of his most famous philosophies he would quote was to be water. To take the form of whatever shape surrounds you, like water takes shape of a cup or a pot. Water is mellow. It can flow quietly. But at the same time, it can be violent. It can crash. It’s patient enough to smooth out a rough rock over years and years in a river and when the situation calls for it, it’s powerful enough to destroy anything in its path.

That philosophy resonated with me deeply in basketball. Each game, each situation, required something different. With the Heat especially, I had to be in a good flow. Some nights I had to score a lot of points, other nights I had to be a supporter, a rebounder, more of a defender. I had to take the form of whatever the moment needed me to be. I had to be like water.

The physical practice of martial arts itself has been huge for me. I’ve taken my share of classes, even during my time in the NBA. It was one of my favorite things to do because it kept me in shape in a different way than basketball did. The discipline of it, the focus, the controlled physicality and flexibility. And it helped me on the court more than people might realize. The game back then was more physical then than it is now. Mostly everything was in the paint. As a power forward playing Center, I had to wrestle with some big guys, and there were a lot of instances where I had to use leverage, defend my space, and hold my ground. Martial arts training helped with all of that.

But what I took from it went beyond the physical. There’s a peace and a discipline that comes with the practice. Having a teacher, a sensei, who can guide you through it is a great thing if you’re lucky enough to find one. You learn to defend yourself, yes. But you also learn patience, control, and respect for the craft.

One of my favorite books is The Book of Five Rings. It was written by an old samurai documenting the things he learned throughout his life. He was known as a master practitioner of his craft, but he also had other hobbies and was skilled in other forms. That idea, being a master in one thing while being a student in many others, resonated with me more than almost anything else I’ve read. I try to carry that for myself.

I’d encourage you to look into the martial arts, even if it’s just watching an old Bruce Lee movie or a classic Kung Fu film. But don’t just watch the action. Listen to the words and pay attention to the story. Listen to the philosophy behind it. The discipline of training your body and your mind together, the idea that strength and patience can coexist, the concept of being adaptable to whatever situation you’re in. All of that is in there if you pay attention.

Be flexible. Be patient. Be powerful when the moment calls for it.

Be water.

What do you do when everything you’ve worked for is falling apart?

When nothing is working. When everything is messed up beyond all recognition and you don’t know what to do next. When your back is against the wall.

It’s going to happen. Just like doubt, just like wanting to quit, this moment is coming for all of us. The question isn’t if. It’s how you’re going to handle yourself when it arrives. Pat Riley always called it the moment of truth. Win or lose, how is your attitude going to be? Are you going to believe in yourself? Are you going to believe in the team you have with you? Are you going to continue to prepare and fight like you’re supposed to when things aren’t going your way? Or are you going to fold?

These are the times where your true self comes out. Everything you’ve been building, all the preparation, the sacrifice, the accountability, the consistency, it all gets tested when your back is against the wall. And hopefully you’ve been putting in the work, because this is when you rely on your skill to get you through.

I’ve been in that position more than once. One of the clearest memories I have is losing to the Spurs in Game 5 on Father’s Day. We were heading back to Miami down 3-2 against a team that had just played a great game. We felt we had done everything right in preparing. We felt we were primed to win Game 5, come back home, and close them out. But that wasn’t the case. They put us in a situation where our backs were against the wall with no margin for error.

Before that, it was Boston. The Eastern Conference Finals went to seven games. Everybody remembers the classic Game 6 that LeBron delivered. That’s how he acted when his back was against the wall. But before that moment, before Game 5, we had done everything we were supposed to do. We believed we were going to beat the Celtics. I was coming back off my torn groin, playing my first game back, and we lost at home and we were put in a position where our backs were against the wall once again. I think we all saw how LeBron responded in that next game. And that’s the point. How are you going to respond? That’s what matters.

When your back is against the wall, that’s not the time to falter. It’s not the time to stop believing. It’s not the time to go off on your own and start making things up. It’s the time to lean on what you’ve built. The preparation, the habits, the mental toughness, the team around you. All of it was built for this moment.

I want you to prepare yourself for this before it comes. Visualize it. Think about how you’re going to handle yourself when things seem insurmountable and impossible. Because if you wait until the moment arrives to figure out who you are under pressure, it will be too late.

As long as you’ve prepared, as long as you’ve done everything you need to do, as long as you’ve been consistent and accountable and willing to sacrifice, then when your back hits that wall, you have something to stand on. You will get emotional, but don’t let it overtake you to where you’re not thinking clearly. Remember to breath, think and rely on what you’ve been working on to build yourself up to this point.

Keep believing. Even when the situation says you shouldn’t.

That’s the moment of truth.