Creating with intention
There are moments you’re sick or tired or bored.
You’re not sure whether to stick or quit. It’s unclear whether progress is being made. Patterns seem hardwired, destined to repeat. Nothing makes sense, and the future is uncertain.
You’re questioning your work, your decisions, the motives of people around you. You’re questioning yourself.
These are the defining moments. This is when you find your passion and what really matters.
This question was posed at a dinner, an exercise in framing.
Our mind is brilliant at creating new definitions, but they’re not always to our advantage — especially when it comes to self. Thoughts can easily turn negative, centering on weakness and deficient. Doubt can color even the most promising of opportunities.
Over any length of time, a constant may acquire a new meaning. For instance, that particular quirk that first drew you to a lover may become irritating and tiresome. The reason you accepted the job in the first place has now become a mundane task. Did the person change? Did the job change? Possibly, but most often our perspective has transformed.
When you can start pinpointing these adjustments in thought, you can use them to your advantage.
Try viewing a particular weakness as a strength; then play the reserve to see how a strength might pose a weakness. Such mind flexibility can spill creative power into design, production, relationships, your work.
I spent a good chunk of my early career worrying about finding the right kinds of business, attracting smart clients, generating the best PR. I’d worry if my work was good enough, if my talents and skills were evident, if my angle was unique.
Through trial and error, I realized there are two surefire ways to catch the attention of an audience (they’re fickle and quick to move on, so you have to be powerfully concise and to the point):
1. Show “why you.”
Behave in a way that gives me no choice but to see you. Your track record is an active testament to your character and to your work as a professional. I don’t care what is listed on your resume. I want projects and completed work that demonstrate your capabilities and promise as a leader.
2. Ask a question that can’t be avoided.
Put something in my head I can’t ignore. You’re here as a professional, so ask me something that proves you are what you say. You’re not here to be ordered about. Create an itch that leaves me wanting more.
Make me care.
The monks have pointed out I talk fast, walk fast, act fast, eat fast, think fast. This is in stark contrast to everything they do. American culture and competitive spirit has turned me into a shark. I’m afraid that if I stop, I might die.
I know I’m not the only one who thinks this. Every entrepreneur can wake at 2AM and think of something that needs to be done.
In Nepal, I’m learning two things:
1. Doing nothing is actually something and can be good for you.
2. Slowness is an art.
While many business situations require fast action, there’s equally valid merit from slow decisions and calculated effort.
“I think your [sic] passionate about your work and I know it turns people like me off.”
The message pinged in my Facebook inbox as I was going to sleep.
Maybe because I was in a particularly fragile state — two days in bed with high fever, my arms and legs raging with sunburn, pimples dotting my face, constipation, tension high with continued visa struggles, pressure to find funding for our annex building while trying to keep dinners in NYC going strong — I’ll admit, the comment stung. It got me thinking about what I’ve been doing and how I’ve been going about it. I instantly starting writing and analyzing.
You see, even when you’re shining and radiant and doing good work in the world, there will be people who don’t like you, who don’t understand, who aren’t supportive.
Ignore them. Write a list of all your wins and keep going.
P.S. If I had good wifi, I would download and listen to James’ podcasts.
Last night I had a dream I got a tattoo. It was a big black tribal symbol winding down the side of my face and neck. Sometimes my hair would hide it, but no amount of accessories or clothing could conceal its dark lines. I spent most of the dream trying to come to terms with it and accept the fact I had this thing permanently etched onto my skin.
I’ve sat with NY Times bestselling authors, farmers in Nepal, Tibetan Buddhists, Wall Street sharks, Italian philosophers and millionaires from California. They all have one thing in common:
Everyone wants something.
I have yet to meet an individual who is 100% honestly, truly satisfied. Everyone has some benchmark they are trying to tip, some element of their life they wish they could change. This is life.
No matter where you are, who you are, how much money you have, or who sleeps next to you, there is something that could be better, easier, more exciting, different. This gap drives who we are and what we do. We spend so much time and energy building, creating, altering and striving that it seems against our nature to be satisfied.
Acceptance is one of those gold terms; if you nail it, you’re rich. Wealth comes from recognizing what cannot be changed and where there is opportunity (of self, of others, the good and bad of what life deals you). If you can work with what you have, you’re well on your way.