Brickwall Decker

You can do all the research in the world. Pour over every detail. Build the perfect plan.

But until the rubber hits the road? You don’t really know.

That “perfect” idea might fall flat. That “sure thing” might skid out.

Nothing’s proven until it’s moving.

Throw stuff at the wall. See what sticks.

Adjust. Improve. Try again.

Don’t just theorize—test.

Because clarity only comes through contact, and the road reveals what the plan might not.

Having the right tool matters.

Try to screw in a screw with a hammer—you’ll only make things worse.

Try to hammer a nail with a screwdriver—you’ll get nowhere.

Same with scale.

You can’t walk across the ocean. You need a ship or a plane.

But you also don’t fly a jet to the next town.

That’s where the car, the bike, or even your legs get the job done.

The lesson: tools have contexts.

The wrong tool isn’t just useless—it can sabotage you.

The right tool makes the job possible.

Use the right tool.

You’ve heard it a thousand times: knowledge is power.

Somewhat true.

Let’s be precise: relevant knowledge is potential power.

Because it’s not enough to know “something.” You have to know the right things for what you’re building.

Information on climbing the corporate ladder? Useless to an entrepreneur.

A book on parenting? Noise to someone childless.

A website about home gyms? Off mission to someone living in a studio apartment.

And even relevant knowledge isn’t enough if it just sits in your head. Knowledge is potential power until it’s applied.

So don’t just learn it. Get out into the world and use it.

Knowledge is power…but only if it’s relevant and applied.

It’s just a table and some chairs.

Wood. Metal. Screws. Maybe a few dents and scratches.

But the kitchen table is sacred ground.

It’s the gathering place.

The feeding place.

The teaching place.

It’s where food is shared and wisdom is passed down.

Where homework gets done and hard conversations get had.

Where laughter lives and lessons land.

It’s where you learn to listen.

Where you learn to understand.

Where you learn to guide instead of control.

The kitchen table is the heart of a home—a quiet stage where life happens in ordinary moments that turn out to be anything but ordinary.

One day, you’ll sit at that table and look back at it all: the good, the bad, the chaotic, the beautiful.

You’ll see the growth.

You’ll see the work.

You’ll see the man you became. And the people you helped shape.

Don’t take it for granted. Treat it like the sacred space it is.

Because a kitchen table doesn’t just hold plates.

It holds your story.

It holds your family’s story.

It holds the next generation’s story.

And you get to write it—one meal, one talk, one moment at a time.

You’re not supposed to be.

When you try to be everything to everyone, you water yourself down until you’re flavorless—just another option in an ocean of sameness.

That’s not selflessness. That’s self-betrayal.

You don’t need mass appeal. You need alignment. You don’t need everyone to clap. You need the right people to connect.

Because the truth is, you can’t build deeply if you’re spread thin trying to please everyone. You’ll lose your edge, your clarity, your mission.

Better to be the #1 in the eyes of a few than #20 in the eyes of many.

Stand tall. Be yourself. Speak your truth.

And let the ones who are just kind of “meh” show themselves the door.