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Tag: communication

The Invitation

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, ‘Yes.’

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

-by Oriah

Tips for college freshmen, relevant to you

MAKE FRIENDS. WITH PROFESSORS.

Supervisors, bosses, managers, religious leaders. Someone who has been assigned a higher rank than you. Regardless of qualifications, we’re taught to defer and do what they say. This can be intimidating.

Unfortunately, power dynamics build chasms in relationships, relationships that have the potential to dramatically influence who we are and what we become. When someone is standing on a pedestal of authority, it’s easy to forget people are people. There’s a person behind the title. It doesn’t matter who or where, we share hard times, worry about money, feel pain when someone has hurt us, fall in love.

Ask questions, listen, exchange stories. Your career will depend on the recommendations of others. And if you’re in a position of prestige, create an environment that encourages discussion. Share where you’re from, what your life has been like, what struggles hold you down, who has been your greatest teacher. People connect with humanity. Let them connect with you.

FORGET ABOUT MARKS.

Early in school our achievements are rewarded. From that first gold star on our paper, we’re trained to believe our worth is based on performance. Focusing solely on recognition can be counterproductive. Without knowing it, we limit our experiences while simultaneously heightening our anxiety. Success becomes the objective, not the process along the way.

Reframe the goal. Your purpose is to worry less and enjoy more.

DO WHAT EXCITES YOU.

“Join clubs! Participate in events! Apply for internships!” This is a college counselor’s way of telling students to find their passion.

The best lessons in life are often learned outside the classroom. These are lessons you’ll teach your own kid. While knowledge can be gained from hours spent pouring over books, you have to live it. Take a hard look at what really matters and set your priority list. Schedule days accordingly.

SAY THANK YOU.

Always, always say thank you. From the moment you leave your home in the morning, people are helping you, going out of their way, doing their best to share with you what they know. Just because you don’t agree or see immediate value, thank those who support your work. Gratitude sustains us and preserves our most valuable relationships.

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.

How I screwed up (anxieties of an entrepreneur)

The following is taken from an interview with Jahan Mantin. For the original article, click here.

In the beginning I didn’t have my story straight. I knew there was value in getting certain people into a room to share and learn from each other, but I didn’t know how to articulate it. In my mind, the story and its importance was perfectly clear. My intuition of human dynamics and relationships was always on target. But the business side was lacking. I had to thrash and experiment and test formulas to make it sustainable. It didn’t happen overnight.

I didn’t come from a business background. I had a lot to learn and made a lot of mistakes. This is part of it. You have to go through it, do the work and press on.

Overcoming anxiety 

When I first started hosting dinners I was absolutely petrified. I’d give myself pep talks on the train before every event. The fact that I managed to convince these incredibly smart, brilliant, talented people to come meet each other in a secret room became a tremendous burden. I put intense pressure on myself to organize unforgettable evenings. My anxiety was through the roof. “What if no one shoes up? What if plates come crashing down off the walls? What happens if someone becomes angry and storms out? If I forget someone’s name? If someone drinks too much and stumbles down the stairs?”

Eventually I realized my fears were mostly irrational. Thankfully, I got to a place where I could recognize that these dinners are beyond me. Yes, I still get nervous, but I can manage my anxiety with the understanding that my responsibility is to provide the platform for people to come together and meet and enjoy. The rest is ultimately up to them.

The pressure of being an entrepreneur

We spend most of our young lives being told what to do. School is laid out for us, and certain milestones seem preordained — job, college, house, friends, relationship. When you start your own business, there is no set plan. There’s a sense of leaping, falling, an uncertainty of what’s to come.

For me, this levity was accompanied by obligation, a duty to see it through. It’s easy to shy away from fear like a fire, but these scary moments show us who we are.  When we are petrified and allow ourselves to be vulnerable, we grow.

Why do so many people become entrepreneurs when it feels like such a big risk?

At first glance, entrepreneurship doesn’t seem safe. Safety is 9 – 5, a steady paycheck and stock options. But if you think about it, freedom and creative independence can provide more security than any job. At any point you can be fired. When you create your own business/service/product, the power is in your hands.

Entrepreneurship isn’t for everyone. Not everyone wants to run their own show; it’s demanding and tough. But you owe it to yourself to sit down and ask, “What do I want? What do I want to contribute to the world? What brings me the most joy?”

When do you know you’re ready?

You have to be honest, ask hard questions and give yourself the time to go through the process of identifying your values and priorities, your skills and talents, what you’re really good at.

If you wait for the right moment, the right time, you’re never going to ship. You’re never going to put work out into the world. You’ll never create art (of which the most interesting and successful is far from perfect). You have to reach the point where it’s good enough, where you can feel satisfied and confident. “Done” is better than perfection.

There are always edits to be made. It can — and probably will — be improved. But your work has to make it out into the world.