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Tag: community

Lead with your art

I’ve been transfixed by the story of Vidal, the random kid photographed on the street and the subsequent events that have followed — over one million dollars raised, scholarships, field trips, a meeting with the President.

Vidal’s principal, who publicly admitted to feeling discouraged and ready to throw in towel before this fantastic story unfurled, asked President Obama, “When is the time you felt most broken?”

He tells the story of losing a Congress bid. His relationship with his wife was on the rocks, he was questioning himself, his work, his decisions. He was 40. He had invested time and energy and great sacrifice but didn’t feel like anything was working.

He decided to shift his focus and concentrate on the work.

“…If you can keep it about the work, you’ll always have a path. There’s always something to be done,” he answered, “…if you’re worrying about yourself — if you’re thinking: ‘Am I succeeding? Am I in the right position? Am I being appreciated?’— then you’re going to end up feeling frustrated and stuck.”

I remember when HONY first began. Brandon took photos quietly, documenting photos of strangers on the street and posting accompanying blurbs.

“There were a lot of lonely times…All I did was take photographs. I never took a day off. I worked every single holiday. I took thousands of portraits before anyone paid attention. But even though I didn’t have much to show for it, I knew that I was getting better, and I knew the photographs were special,” Brandon writes. Drip by drip, his photos became a Facebook page with thousands of loyal and inspired followers. He got a [best-selling!] book deal and a partnership with the UN.

Recommit if you must: Lead with your art, focus on the work. It will fall into place.

It doesn’t have to be great.

In fact, it doesn’t even have to be good.

We put so much expectation and pressure on ourselves to do something amazing, to be really incredible and innovative and caring and original and… We stop ourselves from doing any thing at all.

We’re not just stopping ourselves. We’re stopping our teams. Our employees, our children. Ideas and dreams dead before they’re given a chance to take flight.

We must give up. Release control. Let things become messy, imperfect and ruined. Then, we will get started. Then, we will finish. Then, we can become better.

Bad work gives you room to improve. Lessons can be learned about how to get it right the next time around. Confidence is built, and habits are established. Habits of creation, productivity, perseverance and strength.

Need a community to help you get out of your own way? Check out Seth’s Your Turn Challenge or request to attend an upcoming dinner in New York City.

The world needs your work — bad, good or great.

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.

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.

On beginning, career change, and empathy

The following is derived from an interview. For the full article, click here. 

How did you begin Project Exponential?

MW: I was living in New York City, bored out of my mind after finishing my masters at Columbia University and working in their admissions department. The creative in me wasn’t satisfied, and the realist in me knew I couldn’t afford to stay in Manhattan on a social worker’s salary. I began moonlighting as a copywriter and slowly weaseled my way into the advertising industry.

How does a social worker enter advertising?

MW: The same skills I’d use in the therapist room I would use while consulting with larger companies: asking questions, trying to dissect possible causes for a person’s behavior, trying to understand what they want and what drives them. In advertising, it’s the same thing. You identify your audience and imagine who they are, what they want, what motivates them. Then you build campaigns that successfully reach them. The method is similar but the population is different.

How did the first dinner come about?

MW: After directing New York City’s Social Media Week, my contact list became an eclectic mix of social do-gooders and non-profit leaders, tech experts, marketing gurus, entrepreneurs and a various assortment of athletes, entertainers and minor celebrities. I imagined what might happen if these accomplished, talented people found themselves in one room. The therapist from the South Bronx has something to offer the Wall Street executive; it’s just a matter of giving them the opportunity to exchange ideas and talk openly.

Who was invited?

MW: The very first dinner was a list of academics, entrepreneurs, investors, therapists, writers, performers, and marketers. I invited around twenty people to SoHo’s Cafe Select. They have a great back room, a hidden dungeon that you have to walk through the kitchen to enter. It’s lit with small lights and candles, and the magical environment added to the evening’s serendipity.

One of the key ways I separate Project Exponential from other networking events is I don’t tell people who is coming. I don’t list names or titles. I want people to connect on a real and personal level. If they want to reveal they’re the CEO of whatever company because they feel that is important, fine, but I’m more focused on relationship building and what someone has to give. That’s where the real magic happens.

What do people talk about at dinners?

MW: Dinners are loosely structured with questions; the exact format depends on who is attending. I encourage people to talk about their struggles and challenges because everyone in the room is some expert. It’s an incredible resource for people. Sometimes the best insight comes from someone looking at a problem from an entirely different perspective, and work can be inspired with a fresh set of eyes.

How are dinners structured?

Dinner questions often focus on empathy and giving. The topic of empathy is one that has been derived from my social work training. The ability to recognize what contributes to another’s worldview, what influences the way they assess and analyze situations, and how to put yourself in their shoes is a skill that can be utilized both personally and professionally.

Seating charts are designed based on what I’ve come to learn about each person and what I think they can offer. The number of attendees is limited because I have found small groups allow the type of intimacy that enables people to connect and get honest.

You have a large roster of clients who want to attend. How has the word spread?

MW: It’s been word of mouth. A lot of thrashing happened in the beginning. I tried different formats and researched the history of the salon. Trial and error came helped me define the ideal size and format for the dinners. The evening unfolds like an onion: the beginning is creative and exploratory and by the end of the evening, people are helping each other with real life problems. They’re asking each other questions and using each other as resources, even sometimes hugging as friends.

What is the process of selecting guests for the evening?

MW: That’s my social work background: how to analyze and assess and identify areas of need and opportunity. My work is to get the right people in the room. I evaluate each attendee’s experiences and look to match skills and interests. I look at it like a big puzzle piece, putting people together in a way that makes sense.

My opinion is that most everyone is trying to get somewhere. If I can make introductions to someone who is already “there” or knows how to move in that direction, that is value. Very few people are exactly where they want to be. And that’s a good thing. We’re all in this together — exploring and failing and achieving goals. The beauty is that people have different experiences across different verticals.

How do online interactions affect these offline encounters?

MW: Technology has been instrumental to bridging gaps that once existed. We have the opportunity to develop so many different connections and reach out to people we didn’t have access to before; however, I believe certain things can only develop in person, away from computers and gadgets.

Project Exponential has been founded on blending both worlds to create meaningful relationships. I use social platforms to introduce and connect people yet emphasize the value that stems from real experiences. The most authentic, vulnerable conversations take place when you step away from the screen.

What has been most rewarding for you?

MW: The emails I get from people whose career paths have changed because of someone they met, people who have started projects together. Others have found business partners, friends, mentors. My work with Seth Godin showed me the value of connection and what can happen when people build relationships in a real way.

My best success is when I’ve helped someone move in the direction that’s closer to what they want for themselves, both in business and in life. As a probation officer, I found great satisfaction in seeing positive change. It’s the same thing now: I love hearing I’ve helped people achieve their goals by introducing them to the right people.

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.