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Category: Observations

The boy who hung the curtain rod

I went downstairs to bring the workers coffee. When I returned, the boy, age 16 or 17, was standing on a table hammering enthusiastically. He had set three fixtures in place, and the curtain rod rested squarely upon them. Great work — except he was standing outside.

“What are you doing?” I asked, somewhat perplexed to see adornment of this kind hanging on a building’s exterior. “Have you ever seen curtains on the outside of a house?”

“Brother says me to,” was his reply. It was an order, the task assigned to him.

We need to teach our young people to think, not to follow.

 

The best gifts you can give

Time.

For others and for yourself.

Give yourself the time and space to reflect and just be. No expectations of what should happen or what must be done.

We get so caught up in the day-to-day, making lists and checking obligations. We forget to step back and see, “How lucky am I? How did I end up like this?” It’s important to count the steps you’ve taken and recognize the work you’ve put in.

Be still. It is in these sitting moments your deepest dreams — and fears — become evident. Realizations like nothing is perfect, we can only work to make things better.

Gratitude.

We have no idea what the future holds.

I can only be grateful in this moment.

Autonomy (I will teach you to be rich and have a perfect body and find the love of your life)

There is one faucet wheel left in the kitchen. When you turn the water on or off, it drops with a loud CLANG into the tin sink. I’ve offered to have it fixed. “It’s not our house,” they say. I’ve been living here for just over one year; they’ve been here for seven.

I live among the people I work for (and with). Not only have I grown to love them like my own family, I’ve been offered a window into their lives, the trials they must suffer and how they see the world. One of the best gifts in life is a new perspective, and I’ve been lucky to be invited to share theirs.

I’ve compared the psyche of probationers and CMOs, entrepreneurs and monks, diamond sellers and social workers. There’s one significant difference.

It’s what marketing schemes and addiction recovery theories capitalize on. It’s what books promise when they tell you “I will show you how to get rich” and fitness models tempt with chiseled abs and downloadable workout videos. It’s how self help “gurus” sell monthly packages and some people start businesses while others stay at jobs they hate for years on end.

Autonomy.

Autonomy is the belief that you can do, and that you’re capable of doing. People who are depressed lose this. This is the tragedy when you see animals, even people, trapped, locked up, stuck. They’ve lost the belief that their actions have an effect, so they give up. This is the worst thing.

The belief in yourself comes BEFORE any plan or action. It requires confidence and courage. It is the seed from which work and ideas blossom. Where creativity takes flight.

It doesn’t have to be big. One thought, “I can do,” followed by “I am doing,” and finally, “I did it!” tends to ripple. A little thing becomes the next, slightly bigger thing. And before you know it, you’re making dreams come to life.

Start with the kitchen sink.

No one has it figured out

A large number of Nepalis work or study abroad.

Recently I found myself speaking to a young man preparing for his first year of college. He was scared as hell, understandably so, leaving behind his family and everything familiar to attend college in Louisiana. This would be the first time he traveled outside Nepal.

I was 17 when I left the cornfields of Longmont, Colorado for Manhattan’s concrete version. It was terrifying, and I cried the entire plane ride from Denver to LGA. My flight was just over three hours, and it took everything in me to not unlock the hatch. This guy was looking at three days of travel, layovers in several countries, and an immigration officer waiting at the end.

We talked about what he could expect — pop music and football fields, red and blue plastic party cups, kids from different backgrounds, movie popcorn, pizza delivery — and what not to expect — daily dal bhat, the hum of electric generators, saris, cows in the road, bargaining over prices. I taught him how to pronounce Baton Rouge.

I was told to study Humanities because this is what students were advised if they didn’t know what they wanted to do. I focused too much on grades and too little on experiences. It wasn’t until later I realized how valuable relationships with professors could be and that some my greatest lessons would be learned simply living in New York City. What I know now, at age 30, I failed to recognize then:

Nobody knows.

Some people are just really good at pretending. That kid who marched into the lecture hall, back straight, broad smile? I envied him. He said he was going to be an actor. I think he is selling shoes now in Lower Manhattan.

I had a girlfriend who lit up every room she walked into. Her laughter was contagious. I studied the way she talked to the lunch lady to try to figure out how she did it. One night I found her crying in our tiny dorm room closet, something I always did when she was out lighting up the city. She didn’t know, either.

Everyone is flailing. We fly through the air until we find something to hold onto: love, a promotion, a career change, money, a new job, adventure. We’re always wanting something, unless we give up or stop trying.

And this is one of the secrets of Project Exponential, it’s why dinners work. There’s a chance Your Something — your work, your passion, your failures, your connections — might be what someone else needs to find Their Something. And they might have exactly what you need to move forward with yours.

The student in Louisiana is fine. He likes Pizza Hut.

The paradox of our age

I found this printed on a banner hanging in a teahouse in Nepal.

We have bigger houses but smaller families;
more conveniences, but less time.

We have more degrees but less sense;
more knowledge but less judgment;
more experts, but more problems;
more medicines but less healthiness.

We’ve been all the way to the moon and back,
but have trouble crossing the street to meet our new neighbor.

We built more computers to hold more copies than ever,
but have less real communication;
We have become long on quantity,
but short on quality.

These are times of fast foods but slow digestion;
Tall men but short characters;
Steep profits but shallow relationships.

It’s a time when there is much in the window but nothing in the room.

-HH 14th Dalai Lama

The art of the pitch

I’m not an investor or angel, but I recently received an email from a stranger looking to raise significant funds for his seafood company. This eager entrepreneur quickly launched into the background of his fish farm, detailing his motivation and financial goals. In his excitement, he failed to do background research on my work and interests.

While I can’t claim I’ve secured millions for a start-up (yet…), I’ve raised my fair share for causes and organizations, conferences and seminars. I’ve successfully procured hard cash, in-kind partnerships, sponsorships, food, clothing and more.  I’ve learned there’s a certain grace that must accompany requests; a careful, precise touch can endear people to you instead of sending them running away.

I’ll spare details from the fish man’s email and provide my top tips for anyone looking to acquire capital and build valuable partnerships:

1. Serve an appetizer before the main course.

Give people a taste of what you have to offer. If they’re interested, you can launch into your full pitch. It’s like dating; you don’t want to give away too much too soon.

Investors and VCs are short on time and attention, so keep your message concise to increase your chance of success. If someone likes the first course, they’ll stay for the next serving.

2. Know your audience.

Invest in the people you’re asking to invest in you. Ask questions. Find out what they’re interested in, what they like to do on the weekends, what projects they’re excited about and pitch appropriately.

3. One size does not fit all.

Take time to craft individual emails. (If your need is met, the energy and time spent will be worth it.) Copy-and-pasting can result in embarrassing formatting errors if you’re not careful, and people know if they’re subject to mass mailing. Hand-crafted emails make people feel like you actually care — and in turn, they’ll care about what you have to say.

4. Express gratitude.

It doesn’t matter if someone funds you or not, you’re building a relationship. They’ve taken time out of their schedule to hear you out. Thank them graciously.

5. Investment isn’t only dollars.

Don’t be discouraged if you’re not handed a check. Consider other ways someone might “invest” in you: Mentorship? Referrals? A solid reference? Meaningful introductions? Ask for feedback and suggestions as you continue to move your project forward.