At IDEO, we were often told to resemble ducks. No matter how hard we were paddling underwater, we should look serene and glide gracefully above the surface where everyone could see us. Was

I tried to look serene but was still the frenetic duck. My wings thrashing, my mouth quacking, water spraying everywhere. There was just so much to do and decide and build! I thought my visible effort was proof of my dedication.

Then I started losing respect. And deals.

Turns out, nobody wants to work with the duck having a breakdown in the middle of the pond.

The problem wasn’t that I needed to fake serenity. The problem was that I didn’t know how to actually feel it.

The night I almost canceled magic

Last Tuesday, I had tickets to Lightscape at the San Francisco Botanical Garden: one million twinkling lights transforming 55 acres into something mesmerizing.

I was completely wrung out from back-to-back meetings, urgent client requests, and well, just surviving. It was an hour drive. I’d have to battle traffic, find parking, walk a mile in the cold.

Every fiber of my perfectionist, productivity-obsessed brain was screaming: Cancel. You’re too tired. You need to work. There’s too much to do. Stay home and answer emails.

But I’d promised my daughter and my parents we’d go. And somewhere, beneath the exhaustion, I remembered something important: moments of delight ≠ luxuries. They’re necessities.

So we went.

What happened in the redwood grove

The garden’s towering redwoods served as the backdrop for a spectacular light show. As we walked the illuminated path, special effects danced across laser beams cutting through fog. Music pulsed through speakers hidden in the trees.

My daughter grabbed my hand and said, “Dance with me, Mom.”

So we danced. We spun and laughed and forgot every single thing that had felt urgent three hours earlier.

I wasn’t thinking about my to-do list or the work I “should” be doing instead.

I was just there. Fully, completely, joyfully there.

The neuroscience of choosing joy

Here’s what I didn’t understand during my frenetic duck days: Your brain cannot efficiently produce the hormones that increase creativity and problem-solving when you have an excess of stress hormones like cortisol. Every time we frantically switch between tasks, the brain releases cortisol, micro-dosing ourselves with stress hormones throughout the day.

But when we allow ourselves those moments of genuine joy, whether it’s dancing under firefly lights or taking two minutes of complete silence, we’re not being indulgent. We’re doing something radical: we’re choosing the brain chemistry that builds us up rather than breaks us down.

The tragic irony of perfectionism? We think we’re being more productive by staying in constant motion. But when we’re in a constant state of busyness, we struggle to think strategically because we’re always in reactive mode.

So how do you actually become more serene?

• Intense focus on one task. Just one.
• Try 2 minutes of silence between tasks
• Find a moment of joy after it’s all done, whether it’s listening to music, dancing in the kitchen, or going to a light show.

That night at Lightscape? I chose one thing: being present. Not checking my phone or mentally drafting emails. Just dancing under a canopy of lights with my daughter.

The next morning, I woke up energized and clear-headed. I accomplished more meaningful work in three focused hours than I had in three days of frantic multitasking.

I’m still a duck paddling hard underwater. But now I know the difference between frantic and focused and between faking serene and actually feeling it.

And it started with saying yes to firefly lights when everything in me wanted to say no.