bloglovinBloglovin iconCombined ShapeCreated with Sketch. Fill 1Created with Sketch. Fill 1Created with Sketch. Fill 1Created with Sketch. Fill 1Created with Sketch. Fill 1Created with Sketch. rssRSS iconsoundcloudSoundCloud iconFill 1Created with Sketch. Fill 1Created with Sketch. Fill 1Created with Sketch. Fill 1Created with Sketch.

Ten times better

A “little better” doesn’t cut it. You have to be much better. Much, much better. Ten times better.
This is how you separate yourself from the competition.
This is how you improve.
This is how you win.
Everything is crowded. The marketplace, the speaker lineup, the dating scene, the applicant pool.
In an age where your value corresponds to your ability to separate yourself from the rest, your focus must narrow on becoming your best version.
A notch doesn’t tip the scale. Throw your weight around and put full effort into your vision.
Your best self and your most original idea depend on it.
(H/T David S. Kidder. I presented Startup Playbook to college students in Nepal last week, and they loved it.)

Being human

Recently I was rejected. I spent a lot of time crafting the perfect letter, re-writing and re-reading and editing the hell out of my argument to compose a convincing, logical, matter-of-fact and to the point submission. I sent in my proposal confidently. The rejection was prompt, and, of course, it stung.

I received a phone call several days later. “You have to explain why YOU want this,” the man instructed, “You have to say why YOU, not anyone else. They didn’t buy it.” I removed too much humanity from my writing, and the panel wasn’t pleased. They didn’t want perfect. They weren’t looking for politically or grammatically correct. They wanted the messy version: gritty, personal, detailed. They wanted human.

I submitted a second letter, this time writing for a friend. I wrote truthfully, about relationships and desire. I mentioned insecurities and inserted myself back onto the page. It worked.

Panels, bosses, review boards and government agencies — yes, they have a pulse, too. This is the place where we connect, where we can build bridges, where we can learn from each other and help ease our suffering.

Let’s not forget our where our commonalities lie. Our hearts beat the same.

10 essentials for the modern world

1. You have to make time for your goals otherwise they won’t happen.

2. You have to recognize where you’ve come from in order to have the endurance to keep going.

3. You have to have the right team around you to get it all done.

4. You have to strive to do work that speak for itself. Let others do the talking for you.

5. You have to know in your heart the effort you’ve put forth. Ignore the naysayers.

6. You have to prioritize your health and body, for it is the machine you will be using for years to come.

7. You have to take time to rest and be still. Your machine needs regular recharging and reprogramming.

8. You have to acknowledge who and what has encouraged you. Gratitude will keep you strong in the darkest moments.

9. You have to place yourself near nature from time to time to remind yourself of the impermanence and magnitude of all things.

10. You have to ignore the rules others set for themselves (and for you). Make your own.

I quit

All my life I was told quitting was a big no-no. A character flaw. A deficit. Giving up.
Quitting possibly saved my life.
It’s been almost two years since I threw everything into the dumpster and came to Nepal. Don’t get me wrong, before I stepped onto the plane, I did some major assessment and calibration. I tried switching states, changing jobs, ending a relationship. Nothing worked. I had a relentless void, an absence of satisfaction and enthusiasm I couldn’t put my finger on.
There’s a moment that is scary as hell to recognize “This isn’t what I want.” Daily decisions add up, and habits cement themselves overtime. Suddenly, we wake up. It’s like stepping out from backstage, and the spotlights sting your eyes as you struggle to peer into the audience.
Quitting takes planning and courage. But it should NOT be written off as an option. If you need help deciding whether to quit or stick, I’ve listed seven great resources at the bottom of this article.

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 writesDrip 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.

What if it felt like heli-skiing from your desk?

James Altucher recently interviewed Seth Godin on fear, anxiety and doing work that matters. They discuss the separation between the Do-ers and the Sitters, those who put themselves in the game and those who watch from the sidelines wishing they could play.

One of the main categorical differences is fear: the Do-ers don’t let it stop them. They find ways to circumnavigate their anxiety so that slowly, overtime, they can act and experience, learning tactics to manage stress along the way. The Sitters haven’t quite figured out how to conquer their fear. Paralyzed, they’re crippled by the weight of self-expectation and prediction.

Seth brings up an excellent point (41:25): no one learning to ski signs up for heli-skiing. First, they hit the bunny slopes, building up their skills before dropping down black diamonds and exploring out-of-bounds terrain. Some start climbing mountains. With adrenaline pulsing through their veins, they crave more — a greater rush, bigger accomplishments, challenge. Perhaps THEN they purchase a heli-tour to destinations they never before imagined navigating on skis.

Not everyone enjoys heli-skiing, or even skiing for that matter. We have different thresholds for anxiety and adrenaline. Your task is to find your edge, the line that seems scary to cross. The place you are most true to yourself, where your best and most meaningful work await. That moment you’re afraid. That’s when you have to sign yourself up.

Maybe you find that jumping-out-of-a-plane feeling writing silently at your desk. It might be ten minutes of scribbling in a private journal. A comment placed on a public forum. Emails sent to authors you admire. A site launch to publish your ideas.

We’re more forgiving to athletes than we are to ourselves.