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Tag: choices

Thoughts become things

Several months ago I made clear what I would do if I had $40,000.

I’m no stranger to the power of making dreams known. There is a creative force behind intention. Set your mind to it, and seemingly distant aspirations become achievable.

This is where we sell ourselves short. It’s terrifying to announce what we want. Not only might it NOT happen, it COULD happen. And then?

The important thing is to have a vision, but not become so fixed on the end result you miss alternatives to getting there. No, I didn’t find $40,000, but a grassroots effort has taken hold, and a group of dedicated, brave individuals have come together to make the Learning House a reality.

Don’t simply wish this holiday season. Write it down, believe that your idea can take flight. Because if you believe it, it can.

Happy holidays from Nepal and from the Project Exponential community worldwide.

The hardest part

The terror, the fear. The realization this is the moment that separates good from greatness. Your chance to succeed, to make your dreams real. The do or die.

Your stomach churns and your heartbeat quickens.

The leap.

You’re not alone.

The school boy entering his first class.
The athlete poised at the starting block.
His first college exam.
Her investor pitch.
Signing the contract.
The alarm goes off.

You’ve felt this before.

You survived.

You moved on to the next, bigger thing.

Accept the fear. It’s part of it. Then begin.

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

7 steps to finding happiness

1. Put yourself in the position of opportunity. Go where there is more.

2. Do what you’re good at.

3. Big goals are great but don’t become so focused on them you can’t reroute if necessary.

4. Focus on the now: does your heart sink or flutter? Is there a rock in your stomach when you head to work?

5. What is taking you away from your present experience? How can you limit these distractions and refocus your attention?

6. Find people you can “do your thing with.” People who accept you for being 110% you. People who sit with you when you’re feeling less than your best, who can pick up the phone and give you two minutes of their time when you really need it.

7. Stop trying.

I’ll repeat that last one: stop trying to be happy. It’s temporal, elusive, impermanent. Those low points — depression, sadness, emptiness, loneliness, dejection? They serve as a barometer, an unexpected gift to let you know whether you’re on (or off) track.