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Tag: dreams

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.

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

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.