A philosophy professor walked into class one morning carrying a large glass jar. Without saying a word, he filled it to the top with golf balls.

"Is the jar full?" he asked.

The class nodded.

He then poured in a bucket of pebbles. They settled into the empty spaces between the golf balls.

"Now is it full?"

Again, everyone agreed.

Next came sand, filling the remaining gaps. Finally, he poured in water until the jar could hold no more.

The lesson wasn't about time management. It was about attention.

Every day, our minds become that jar. If we allow notifications, distractions, worries, and other people's priorities to fill it first, there will never be room for the things that actually matter. But if we deliberately place the "golf balls" in first (our health, our relationships, our learning, our purpose) everything else has a way of fitting around them.

This week's newsletter is really about protecting those golf balls. Whether it's training your attention through mindfulness, building your nutrition around habits that make success easier, or becoming fully present in your conversations with other people, each idea comes back to the same question:

What deserves your attention before the world decides for you?

One of the things I've become increasingly aware of over the past year is just how fragmented my thinking has become.

I read often, as well described here. And I feel pretty proficient at it at this point. Yet still, I'll sit down to read a book for twenty minutes, only to realize I've spent half that time mentally answering emails, replaying conversations from work, planning tomorrow's meetings, or thinking about something completely unrelated to the page in front of me. The same thing happens while writing, during conversations, and sometimes even while playing with Levi. My attention isn't necessarily gone. It's just constantly being recruited somewhere else.

For a long time, meditation never really stuck for me. I'll admit I carried some of the same assumptions many people do. It felt like one of those things associated with monks, incense, and sitting cross-legged trying to empty your mind. I'd try it because someone successful swore by it, not because I had a clear reason for doing it myself. Unsurprisingly, I'd last a few days before moving on.

Recently, though, I came back to it with a much more specific goal: improving mindfulness.

I've been working through the Waking Up app by Sam Harris, and one idea immediately changed how I thought about meditation. The goal isn't to stop thinking. It's to notice thinking.

That distinction sounds small, but it's completely different in practice.

When a thought appears, whether it's about work, something I forgot to do, or a problem that needs solving, the practice isn't forcing it away. It's simply recognizing, "There's a thought," and allowing it to exist without immediately following it wherever it wants to go. Most of those thoughts aren't urgent. They'll still be there when I finish the chapter I'm reading or the conversation I'm having.

I've noticed the benefit extends well beyond focus. The same thing happens emotionally. A stressful thought shows up, and instead of immediately building a story around it or letting it dictate my mood, there's a brief moment where I can recognize it for what it actually is: a thought. Not reality. Not an emergency. Just another passing event in my mind.

That slight change is the prompting for why I am going to try to stick with it this time.

I also don't think it's a coincidence that this feels harder today than it probably did twenty years ago. We spend hours training our brains to switch attention every few seconds. Social media, notifications, and endless short-form content reward constant interruption. Eventually that becomes the default setting, even when we're trying to do something we actually care about.

Maybe mindfulness isn't becoming more popular because people are changing. Maybe it's because our environment is.

This week's challenge: Download the Waking Up app (or any mindfulness app you prefer) and complete one ten-minute introductory session this week. Don't try to clear your mind. Just practice noticing when your attention wanders, and gently bring it back. You may be surprised how often your mind leaves the room before you do.

One of the biggest misconceptions in weight loss is that you have to get comfortable being hungry all the time.

You don't.

One of the simplest habits I've used for years is building as much volume into my meals as possible with foods that contribute very few calories. The goal isn't to eat less food. It's to eat more food for fewer calories.

Our stomachs respond to volume. A large salad with grilled chicken is physically much more filling than a handful of chips, even if the calories are similar. Foods that are high in water, fiber, or protein tend to keep you satisfied longer, making it much easier to stay in a calorie deficit without constantly thinking about your next meal.

This has become almost automatic for me. If I'm making tacos, I pile on shredded lettuce and use low-calorie wraps. If I'm making eggs, I'll mix in a few servings of egg whites to double the volume while barely changing the calories. The meal feels bigger, takes longer to eat, and keeps me full much longer afterward.

Some of my favorite "volume foods" include:

None of these foods are particularly exciting on their own, but that's not really the point. They're tools. They make the meals you're already eating work harder for you.

This week's challenge is simple. Before you grocery shop, pick three of these foods and intentionally build them into meals you already make. Add spinach to your eggs. Turn your chicken breast into low calorie wrap tacos with a lettuce kit. Double the lettuce on your sandwich or taco. Throw mushrooms and peppers into your next stir fry.

Small changes like these don't feel dramatic, but they're the kind of habits that quietly compound over months. You stay fuller, snack less, and make fat loss feel a whole lot easier without ever feeling like you're eating less.

If you've been reading The Superset for a while, you've probably noticed that How to Win Friends and Influence People finds its way into these pages fairly often. That's not because it's the newest book on communication or psychology. It's because, despite being nearly 90 years old, I still haven't found another book that packages timeless human behavior into such practical advice. Technology changes, that is more evident than ever. Human nature, however, doesn't.

Every time I revisit it, I find myself highlighting something different. This time, one idea stood out again to share, because I think it has practical application for every person reading this.

Become genuinely interested in other people.

It's remarkably simple, but incredibly uncommon. I’ve heard it repacked as “become interested, not interesting.”

Most conversations are spent waiting for our turn to speak, thinking about the story we're going to tell next, or trying to sound interesting ourselves. Carnegie argues that the fastest way to become more likable, build stronger relationships, and improve your communication isn't to become a better speaker. It's to become a better listener.

I've found that the easiest way to practice this is by asking one follow-up question before talking about myself.

Someone tells you they're taking a trip? Ask what they're most excited about.

A coworker mentions their kids? Ask how old they are.

A friend says they've started a new hobby? Ask what got them interested.

It's amazing how often people light up when they realize you're genuinely curious instead of simply waiting for your turn to respond. Better yet, you'll usually walk away having learned something you never would have otherwise.

This week's challenge: In every meaningful conversation you have this week, ask one more follow-up question than you normally would before shifting the conversation back to yourself. It's a tiny adjustment that costs nothing, but it has an incredible way of making the people around you feel seen, heard, and remembered.

As Carnegie reminds us throughout the book, those small moments of genuine interest have a way of opening doors that charisma alone never could.