Dr. Ray Hyman said that people dislike skeptics because skeptics take away Santa Claus and give nothing back. In “Dancing on the Fringe,” Heidi and Rattles talk about why skeptics aren’t the bad guys so many people think they are.
We started a podcast! We’re two sisters on opposite coasts who meet on the virtual porch to talk about things that matter. Pull up a chair and join the conversation.
Feeling like the world is a bit chaotic these days? Wondering what one person can do to make a difference, or maybe just wondering how to reduce the stress of living in a chaotic world? We discuss all these things in our inaugural episode.
A missed meeting without warning may not feel like a big deal—but it is.
When you book time with someone and don’t show up, you don’t just “skip” a meeting. You steal their time.
That person may have rearranged their schedule, skipped a deep-focus task, or come prepared with notes to make the most of the time you requested. When you disappear without a word, you leave them hanging. You also send the message—intended or not—that their time matters less than yours.
And here’s the kicker: You can’t give that time back.
In a professional setting, this isn’t just inconsiderate. It’s damaging. It’s a reputation-killer. It’s the kind of behavior that quietly closes doors you may not even realize were open to you.
Yes, things happen. But being late or missing a meeting without a heads-up doesn’t just “happen” to you. It’s a choice—not to prepare, not to communicate, not to take shared time seriously.
Let’s flip the script.
Because here’s the truth: Time is the one resource we can’t refill. Respecting it—yours and others’—is one of the clearest signs of a true professional.
Do you struggle to put into words what is most important to you?
I did. But I just learned the solution: Look at the people you admire.
I engage in a lot of workshops. Workshops to help me improve my teaching, get my small business off the ground, become a better writer, or even just a better version of myself. Invariably, the question arises, “What do you value?” It’s a question I’ve always struggled with putting into words.
In a workshop this week, an exercise required me to identify three people whom I admire most. Coming up with a list of “admirees” was easy. I could rattle them off almost by rote: Abraham Lincoln, Helen Keller, my second-grade teacher, John Denver, Jane Goodall, Chrissy, Gaby, Mom, Dad, my siblings, a colleague, a college professor, a supervisor…
I’ve never had trouble identifying people I admire, but ask me to list my “values” and my mind goes blank. So I was surprised when it suddenly clicked that my list of admirees were my values in disguise. Not only that, I could see how my values developed by looking at when each person entered my list.
As a child, I apparently admired a person based on success, like President Lincoln for his Emancipation Proclamation or Helen Keller for her successful life despite her blindness and deafness.
Later, I admired people because of their belief systems, like John Denver’s environmentalism, Albert Schweitzer’s Reverence for Life, and Jane Goodall’s love of chimpanzees.
Still later, I admired people for their traits, like the creativity of famous scientists to develop interesting research programs or their ability to plan and carry through on a project.
Admirees falling from grace also reveal your values
Thinking about my list of admirees revealed something else: I don’t admire some of those folks anymore. In fact, I realized that I admire very few people. Instead, I admire parts of people.
People are multifaceted, complicated messes full of errors and misjudgments. But people can be judged separately from their accomplishments or traits.
I once admired Tiger Woods. Though I still respect his incredible golf skills, I no longer admire him after he cheated on his wife. That told me something important: fidelity belongs on my list of values.
When admiration changes because you change
Sometimes the shift isn’t because they’ve changed—it’s because I have. As a kid, I admired big names and big achievements. That made sense at the time; I was learning to see what success looked like. But as I grew older, success by itself wasn’t enough. I stopped admiring people simply because they were powerful or famous. My values had evolved, and my admirees no longer fit.
And sometimes, it’s both. They grow in one direction, I grow in another. Where we once overlapped, we no longer do. That’s not failure; it’s evidence of growth on both sides.
Outgrowing admirees is part of the process
Admiration isn’t a lifetime contract. Outgrowing an admiree doesn’t mean you were wrong to admire them before—it means they served their purpose. They showed you something you needed at that stage of life. When the overlap ends, that, too, reveals your values.
Holy cow. It all seems so simple now.
Though I obviously have them, I’ve always struggled to put words to my beliefs, values, emotions, and the like. Though designed for another purpose, the workshop exercise surprised me by helping me gain some clarity in this area.
So now I’m curious: Who do you admire? And what might that list be trying to tell you about the values you hold—today, and the ones you’ve outgrown?
(P.S. Admire wisely. It might be your values talking.)
You can build a career on late nights and shots of maple syrup—but maybe don’t.
I’ve been successful for decades—but not because I had a brilliant system. Mostly because I care a lot, stay up late, and survive on snacks and momentum. Occasionally, I take motivational shots of maple syrup. The dark and robust kind, obviously. I have standards.
I’ve taught thousands of students, earned a PhD, mentored more humans than I can count, and started multiple ventures. And I’ve done most of it while flying by the seat of my pants.
It works.
Sort of.
When you’re quick on your feet and good at what you do, it’s easy to treat structure like optional flair—something other people need.
I used to tell myself:
“I don’t need a system. I need a deadline, a snack, and just the right level of panic.”
And honestly? That combo got me pretty far.
But it didn’t get my grading done early.
It didn’t get me rested.
It didn’t get me less overwhelmed.
And it certainly didn’t get me out of my own head.
Here’s what I didn’t realize until later:
Every time I didn’t plan, I paid for it.
Not in grades or job reviews—those were fine. I paid in:
I wasn’t lazy. I just didn’t feel like I had the time to stop and do the things that would make things easier for myself.
If you’re like me, you don’t want a 17-tab life planner with color-coded sticker packs.
But you might want:
In other words, a system built by you, for you—not for some mythical productivity unicorn who alphabetizes their tea.
If you’re getting by without a system, I see you. I am you.
But if you want to stop spinning, start earning, or maybe just stop eating crackers at midnight while finishing something you promised two weeks ago—give yourself the gift of structure. Just a little.
Something that lets Future You say:
“Thanks for thinking of me. You didn’t just wing it. You showed up.”
Ever pulled off a miracle with nothing but snacks and panic? Tell me your most chaotic success story.
Because winging it works—until it doesn’t.
P.S. I still keep maple syrup in my desk drawer. Systems are great, but maple is sacred.
I recorded this short story after two conversations left me thinking hard—one with a former student who felt like a failure, and one with my brother Dean, who has a way of keeping life beautifully simple.
It’s about habits, the stories we tell ourselves, and how easy it is to lose sight of what we’ve really accomplished.
It’s about 4 minutes long. I think you’ll see why I keep coming back to it.
What are you practicing?
What patterns are you reinforcing?
What would it take to practice something different?
I made this video because I realized how easy it is to get good at the wrong things.
This post began as a response to my students’ questions. As part of my psychology classes, we explore pseudoscience in the context of science and critical thinking—and how, for example, even modern tools like TikTok can be used to deceive. Spoiler: the tricks aren’t new, but the delivery system sure is.
It started with a mechanical banjo.
In 1911, a curious visitor walked into a gaudy little storefront with a flashing electric sign reading “Paris by Night.” What followed was a surreal descent into illusion, peer pressure, and emotional manipulation—all designed to separate people from their hard-earned wages. I translated this account a few years ago from a German book on modern swindles, and I was stunned at how familiar it all felt.
The lights. The bait-and-switch. The cleverly staged testimonials. The ever-increasing cost to see “just one more room.” The fake fortune-teller with a line of eager (but fake) believers priming the mark.
It felt exactly like being on TikTok.
Step into the world of Paris by Night, and you find yourself lured by cheap entertainment (1 cent for music or photos) and a promise of titillating wonders for those who dare. Once inside, patrons are ushered through a series of escalating rooms:
Total cost: over $2.35 in 1911—a full week’s wages for many workers. For a series of rooms full of illusions, empty promises, and pressure to pay up, “just to see what’s next.”
Sound familiar?
Today, the “amusement gallery” lives on in apps, influencer videos, and click funnels.
The structure hasn’t changed. It’s still:
Whether it’s a stage magician or a TikTok oracle, the strategies rely on timeless human tendencies:
The tech changes. The hooks remain.
Here’s the feedforward lesson (not just what not to do, but how to move forward smarter):
| Red Flag | Then (1911) | Now (2025) |
|---|---|---|
| Too good to be true | Magical shows for pennies | Instant soulmate info in 15 seconds |
| Hidden costs | “Just one more room…” | Unlock next tier of spiritual access |
| Fake social proof | Actors playing believers | Sock puppet accounts and planted comments |
| Emotional bait | “You’re destined for riches!” | “Spirit says you’re chosen!” |
| Peer pressure | “Just pay the woman!” | “Everyone in the comments says it worked!” |
Swindles evolve with the times, but the emotional triggers stay the same. One of the most powerful tools we can cultivate is pattern recognition. When you see these setups repeated again and again, you build immunity. You begin to spot the manipulation behind the magic.
And hey—if you ever see a mechanical banjo? Maybe keep walking.
Want to see more historic scams compared with modern trickery? Drop me a note! I’m thinking about developing a series of these that pull from the translation of that 1911 book that I worked on with Dr. Loren Pankratz. You won’t believe how many of them are still around—just dressed up in pixels instead of petticoats.
This piece was developed in collaboration with my AI writing partner. I bring the spark and lived experience; the AI helps me shape and polish ideas so they land clearly.
I have a tendency I call flood-forward. It’s what happens when I want so badly to be helpful that I overdo it—dumping way more information, options, or “solutions” onto someone than they can use in the moment.
It comes from a good place. I see a problem, I want to fix it. I have an idea, I want to share it. I care, so I care loudly. But too much support at once isn’t always support—it can feel overwhelming, like trying to sip from a firehose.
Flood-forward looks like:
I’m learning that the antidote to flood-forward is relevant support. A single step. A listening ear. A tool or idea offered with a simple: “Would this help right now?”
The goal isn’t to stop being generous—it’s to aim generosity so it actually lands. Because wisdom, like water, works best when it flows at the right speed and in the right amount.
Sticky Wisdom: Don’t flood-forward. Trickles often transform more than tidal waves.
This piece was developed in collaboration with my AI writing partner. I bring the spark and lived experience; the AI helps me shape and polish ideas so they land clearly. Think of it as a thinking partner that keeps me from flood-forwarding.
I’m excited to have just finished building an email course designed to help rising and new college students build confidence in their ability to navigate college. Watch this short video to see if it’s something you’d be interested in. If you’re interested, you can click here to purchase access.
In this video, I share advice for life from my ophthalmologist.
