Hey friend,

The supplement.
The sleep hack.
The business system.
The relationship advice.
The new thing your kids HAVE to have.
And some of it is really good.
I’ve learned a ton from books and podcasts.
I’ve used tools and systems that have genuinely made my life better.
But I’ve also noticed something about myself.
When life starts feeling out of control…
my instinct is often to add something.
Find the solution.
Fix the problem.
Create a system.
Listen to another podcast.
Read another book.
Try another strategy.
Do something.
And if that doesn’t work?
Well…
apparently I need to do MORE. 🙂
If you’ve been reading these emails, you probably recognize that guy by now.
Fight.
Push.
Find a way.
Get it done.
But here’s the problem.
Sometimes the thing I add actually helps.
It organizes something.
Solves a problem.
Makes life easier.
And then something interesting happens.
Now I have one more thing to manage.
One more routine to maintain.
One more expectation to meet.
One more metric to track.
One more activity on the calendar.
One more plate spinning in the air.

And before long, I’m standing there trying to keep ten different plates spinning while someone on a podcast is explaining the eleventh plate that will finally bring balance to my life. 🙂
I’ve done this in business.
I’ve done it with my health.
I’ve done it as a husband.
I’ve done it as a dad.
And if I’m being truthful, I can make “trying to improve my life” so complicated that managing all of my improvements becomes part of what’s exhausting me.
Maybe you know that feeling too.
You want to take care of yourself.
Be a good spouse.
Be present with your kids.
Do meaningful work.
Exercise.
Eat well.
Get enough sleep.
Stay connected to friends.
Grow in your faith.
Manage the house.
Help with homework.
Get everybody to practice.
Remember the appointments.
Keep learning.
Keep growing.
And somewhere in there…
actually enjoy the life you’re working so hard to improve.
That’s a lot of plates.
And eventually, some start wobbling.
Then one drops.
Then another.
And our instinct can be:
“I need a better system for holding all these plates.”
Sometimes we do.
But I’ve learned there’s another question worth asking:
“Do I need to be holding all of these plates in the first place?”
That’s where the first word comes in.
CALM.

When I say calm, I don’t mean sitting peacefully on a mountain somewhere with no responsibilities.
I have four kids.
I own a business.
I’m married.
I work with people all day.
That’s not happening. 🙂
And I don’t mean eliminating stress.
We’ve already talked about this.
Stress is part of life.
Some stress is necessary.
Some stress helps us grow.
What I mean by calm is much simpler.
Can I become still enough to see clearly?
Can I stop reacting for a moment?
Can I take a step back?
Can I listen?
Can I breathe?
Can I ask for help?
Can I create enough space between what’s happening and what I do next to actually make a good decision?
Sometimes that is incredibly hard.
Because there are seasons when slowing down almost feels irresponsible.
There’s too much to do.
Too many people depending on us.
Too many problems.
Too many deadlines.
Too many plates.
Who has time to stop?
I understand that feeling.
But sometimes the reason we can’t see what needs to change is because we’re moving too fast to actually look.
That’s one of the things the doctor I told you about in my last email gave me.
Space.
Remember, he didn’t immediately jump in and try to fix me.
He asked questions.
He listened.
He helped me step back far enough to see what I couldn’t see while I was frantically trying to solve the problem.
Sometimes he told me to rest.
Sometimes he helped me recognize I was doing too much.
And because he wasn’t standing inside my problem, he could help me see a little more clearly.
That’s one reason I believe so much in having good people around us.
Sometimes a spouse sees it.
Sometimes it’s a friend.
A coach.
A mentor.
A doctor.
Someone who genuinely loves you and has your best interest at heart.
Someone who can say:
“Hey…I think you need to slow down for a second.”
Not forever.
Just long enough to see.

Because sometimes before we need another answer…
we need enough calm to ask a better question.
I’ve learned this with my health too.
There have been seasons where I can become so focused on being healthy that health itself becomes another full-time job.
Another supplement.
Another protocol.
Another metric.
Another thing to optimize.
Another thing to worry about.
And eventually you have to ask:
Is all of this actually helping me LIVE better?
Remember Message 2?
Health isn’t supposed to become the point of your life.
Health should support your LIFE.
Sometimes calming means taking an honest inventory.
What is actually helping?
What am I doing simply because I’m afraid to stop?
What am I trying to control?
What doesn’t belong in this season anymore?
What can I let go of?
What matters most right now?
That’s not quitting.
That’s not laziness.
That’s creating room to see clearly.
And our bodies need that opportunity too.
Our nervous systems are constantly taking in information.
From our environment.
From our bodies.
From our relationships.
From physical demands.
From emotional demands.
From the world around us.
And as we talked about in Message 3, being able to respond to stress is a GOOD thing.
We need that.

But we also need the ability to settle and recover.
To move from demand toward restoration.
To have moments when our system isn’t being asked to respond to the next thing…
and the next thing…
and the next thing.
Because the goal isn’t to be calm every second.
The goal is to have access to calm when calm is what we need.
That’s different.
And that brings us to the second word.
ORGANIZE.
Once there’s enough space to see what’s actually happening, we can begin asking:
What belongs here?
What doesn’t?
What’s most important?
What needs attention first?
What can wait?
What does this season of life actually require?
Because organization isn’t about fitting everything in.
Sometimes organization requires deciding what doesn’t fit anymore.
I’ve had to learn that.
As a husband.
As a father.
As a business owner.
As a doctor.
And as someone who has a LOT of things he wants to accomplish in this life.
I can’t do everything at once.
Neither can you.
And neither can our kids.
I think about this a lot as a dad.
Kids today have access to more than we ever did.
More information.
More entertainment.
More activities.
More screens.
More games.
More opportunities.
More social pressure.
More people telling them what they should want.
They’re being marketed to too.
This toy will make you happy.
This game is what everyone’s playing.
Wear this.
Watch this.
Do this activity.
Be part of this group.
Don’t miss out.
And as parents, we want to give our kids opportunities.
I certainly do.

But more isn’t automatically better for them either.
Sometimes I have to ask:
Does my child need another activity…
or do they need an afternoon with nothing scheduled?
Do they need another form of entertainment…
or do they need enough boredom to become creative?
Do they need me to solve this problem…
or do they need the opportunity to struggle with it a little?
Do they need another thing…
or do they need more of me?
And just like we asked about ourselves:
Does this fit the season they’re actually in?
That’s organization too.
Not making childhood perfectly controlled.
Creating enough structure and margin that they have the capacity to actually be kids.
To learn.
Play.
Move.
Connect.
Rest.
Get bored.
Create.
Struggle.
Recover.
Try again.
And become more of who they are.
Our nervous systems need organization too.
Not perfection.
Organization.
The ability to take in information, make sense of what’s happening, respond appropriately, and adapt as circumstances change.
Sometimes we need energy.
Sometimes we need rest.
Sometimes we need focus.
Sometimes we need play.
Sometimes we need to push.
Sometimes we need to recover.
Health isn’t being stuck in one perfect state.
It’s having greater ability to move between states as life requires.
That’s adaptability.
And once we have enough calm to see clearly…
and enough organization to respond more appropriately…
then we get to the part most of us wanted to jump to in the first place.
BUILD.
This is where we increase capacity.
A little more.
Then a little more.
Get feedback.
Adapt.
Build again.
That’s exactly what my guide was helping me do after my concussions.
At first, building didn’t look impressive.
Sometimes it was a tiny workout.
A little more activity.

Something that would have felt almost insulting to the athlete I had been.
But remember what we talked about in the last email:
The right next step mattered more than the biggest possible step.
Do what I had the capacity for.
Recover.
See how I responded.
Then build from there.
And over time, the world I could participate in became bigger again.
That’s the point.
And I think this is where we can misunderstand health.
The goal isn’t to build a smaller and smaller life so nothing ever challenges us.
Avoid every stressor.
Control every variable.
Protect ourselves from everything difficult.
Never get uncomfortable.
Never get tired.
Never struggle.
What kind of life would that be?
I don’t want a life so carefully controlled that nothing can challenge me.
And I don’t want that for my kids either.
I want us to have the capacity to LIVE.
I want my kids to climb things.
Try things.
Compete.
Lose.
Win.
Get frustrated.
Learn.
Work.
Fail.
Recover.
Try again.
I want them to experience LIFE.
And I want enough capacity in myself to do the same.
To work hard.
Love deeply.
Lead.
Serve.
Exercise.
Learn.
Be a husband.
Be a dad.
Dream.
Take risks.
Experience disappointment.
Recover.
And keep going.

We’re not building capacity so we can avoid life.
We’re building capacity so we can participate more fully in it.
That’s why these three words mean so much more to me than a catchy phrase.
Calm.
Become still enough to see.
Create room to listen.
Recover when recovery is needed.
Organize.
Understand what’s actually happening.
Decide what matters.
Let go of what doesn’t belong.
Help the system become more adaptable to the season we’re actually living in.
Build.
Take the right next step.
Get feedback.
Adapt.
Increase capacity.
Then build again.
Not because we’re trying to create a perfect person.
Not because we’re trying to create a perfect child.
And definitely not because we’re trying to create a perfectly controlled life.
We’re trying to create greater capacity for LIFE.
And here’s where I’ve had to wrestle with this personally.
Sometimes calming is hard.
Sometimes saying no is hard.
Sometimes admitting you can’t carry everything is hard.
Sometimes resting when your ego wants to push is hard.
Sometimes letting go of something that worked in a previous season is hard.
Sometimes rebuilding slowly is REALLY hard.
Sometimes watching your child struggle with something instead of immediately rescuing them is hard.
Sometimes trusting somebody enough to let them walk beside you is hard.
And sometimes…
the thing that helps us grow is the hard thing itself.

I’ve started to realize that maybe a meaningful life isn’t one where we’ve successfully removed everything difficult.
Maybe some of the things I treasure most…
some of the relationships I value most…
some of the lessons that shaped me most…
and some of the memories I’ll probably carry for the rest of my life…
came from doing hard things.
But there’s another part of that I’ve learned too.
The hard things that changed me most?
I rarely did them completely alone.
There were people beside me.
People who shared something with me.
People who believed in me.
People who loved me.
And when I look back on my life, I’m starting to understand just how important that has been.
That’s what I want to write to you about next.
Because the more I think about it…
this is much bigger than chiropractic.

Dr. Joe

LIVE BETTER.