If you walk into my office, your eyes will probably land on the shelves. Rows of books I’ve collected over the years sit alongside a honeybee painting, a Lego DeLorean, a vintage-style Lego typewriter, and a little flip clock my wife once found after I mentioned how much I loved it. There’s also a Made to Stick copy that shaped how I think about communication—and a Hallmark Jesus doll my sister and nieces gave me when I finished my doctorate. Equal parts cheesy and thoughtful, which, if I’m honest, is my favorite combination. Every shelf tells a story. The DeLorean? Nostalgia and possibility—a reminder that imagination should go somewhere, preferably at 88 miles per hour. Statler and Waldorf, the Lego Muppets? My friend Brad and I keep them on our desks as proof that sarcasm counts as a love language. And then there’s Grimace, the jolly purple blob from my McDonald’s days, laser-focused on joy and milkshakes. Most of us have something like that—a shelf, a wall, a box—where the artifacts of our lives quietly collect. A friend of mine has her husband’s childhood microscope mounted in a collage of art and objects. It’s beautiful, not just because it looks […]