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Tag: risk

Search for meaning

The internet gives you many lives. You can write an article once, muster the courage to post it online, become disappointed when it falls flat and goes unshared, resolve to forget about it and write something else. Then one day, you wake up to an inbox of responses and questions as if this was a piece you posted yesterday.

This sometimes happens to me.

Lately, a few of my Medium posts have undergone rebirths, and I’ve found myself answering questions about the search for meaning and joy and life. “Should I go to a monastery?” “Do I need to volunteer in a different country to find myself?” “What advice can you give me to discover my passion?”

I don’t have any answers, really. I know that the answers we often want most are right in front of us. They don’t necessarily require a trip around the world, months spent in solitude, or someone else to show us the way. I wish I could tell you a perfect formula. I wish I had this formula myself three years ago when I first set out for Nepal.

But I think that’s my big secret. I stopped looking.

I was driving myself crazy with these exact same questions. I was browsing the self-help section for career changes, dog-eared my way through What Color Is Your Parachute, and still no answers. My journal was a messy scrawl of ink and tear, I mean, coffee stains when I got on that first plane to Kathmandu. I knew was I was hurting and raw and sick of feeling like crap. I wanted to feel good, both in the world and in my body and make a positive contribution somewhere. And this is how I found myself teaching English to a bunch of rowdy monks.

No, I had no idea I was going to start a Learning House. If you told me I’d spend the next three years of my life in Nepal, I would have laughed. But I did know that giving to others and empowering individuals through education brought me deep satisfaction. In this way, my focus shifted from myself and onto something positive. I stopped questioning and just did.

Meaning found me. I hope it finds you.

If you feel like giving up

It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been at it: there’s a moment you feel like quitting, throwing in the towel, giving up. Seth Godin penned the journey “The Dip” and believes we too often quit the wrong things at the wrong time. Knowing the difference between staying put and moving on can help us find success both professionally and personally.

The truth is that everything new is always fun: relationships, jobs, projects, cars, clothes, music, movies, towns, school. You name it. Then, over time, it gets boring or hard and you find yourself at a point you can’t be bothered to care at all.

This is when professionals step away from hobbyists: they remain focused, trim off the frayed edges and keep going. And if they do quit, they do it in a way that’s strategic and thoughtful. Champions devote themselves to causes that matter and subscribe to the notion that the bigger the challenge, the bigger the reward.

According to Angela Lee Duckworth, the ability to tough it out and stay put is the closest indicator we have of success. The names we don’t hear about, the people who fail to make an impact, quit too early. They never made it to the intersection of do-or-don’t, or they never found the right problems to solve to begin with.

So, if you’re in a rut and feel like quitting, here are four points to consider before you make any decisions:

Remember when you started.
As a founder, there’s always something to be done. I don’t think I’ve had an empty “to-do list” in over three years. That’s why when I want to hop in a plane back to America, I take a second to recognize how far we’ve come. There was a point I was scrubbing floors and felt a constant film of construction dust on my teeth. Now, our little Learning House is a lively center with classes and students and seminars.

Think about the challenges you’ve overcome to get where you are today and be proud.

Why are you doing this?
We’re all human. God knows I’ve had moments I’ve had to talk myself out of bed and out the door. I’ve gone through weeks of daily internal debates: Am I effective? Should I keep going?

Sometimes, our original goal becomes a blurry dot on the horizon. For whatever reason — projects, donors, grants, social responsibilities — we’ve moved away from that original purpose that gave us meaning, the work that first brought us joy.

Can you remember your original spark? That first flash of inspiration, the smile of someone’s life changed? Ask yourself: the mission you’ve devoted yourself to, is it worth it? If the scale tips in favor, keep going.

Know it won’t always be easy.
When you can accept that grey days are part of the color spectrum, you can relax into rutty moments.
About one year ago, a South Bronx school principal found herself in the Oval office with President Obama. She asked, “When is the time you felt most broken?”

He described his 1999 Congress run. He lost. Bad. He felt old, ineffective, and his relationship with his wife was on the rocks.

“The thing that got me through that moment, and any other time that I’ve felt stuck, is to remind myself that it’s about the work. Because 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.”
Focus on your work and what needs to be done.

Take a break.
We’re people, not machines. Create space to renew and energize, step away from obligations and responsibilities. Even though you’re a leader doesn’t mean you’re always strong! Watch a movie, go for a long walk, call a friend.
Social work can take an impact on your mental and emotional health. It can be helpful to connect with someone who can empathize with your struggles and keep you on track.

Then, chin up, shoulders back, stand tall. Keep going. The world needs you. We need you.

“Live a story.”

I saw this written on a climber’s memorial along the trail to Mount Everest. It haunted me as I walked the ridges leading to Base Camp. Mostly, it got me thinking about the story I was telling. I wasn’t sure if the way I was living was leaving a legacy. I certainly wasn’t convinced I’d be missed.
What’s beautiful about stories is they are always changing. Like a river, our lives encounter different obstacles that can reroute our course. If we remain open to possibility, there’s no limit to the chapters to be written.
I’m grateful I found the guts to quit, even when it felt like stepping off a ledge. I made a few bargains with chance and risk, shook hands with disappointment and failure, but I knew it was part of the deal. I did it because I wanted to see what was on the other side.
No, I’m not immune to anxiety and black confusion. I am refusing to let either get the best of me. Instead, I’m clawing my way towards the unexpected, and it’s taking me down paths of problem solving and giving.
Everyone is writing their story as they go. Listen, and share yours.

On days you don’t feel like showing up

Nothing is right. You feel poorly. The deadline was missed. Your team isn’t pulling weight. The download is taking too long. He shouted as you walked out of the room. A dish was broken. You’re batting less than average. And now it’s raining.

What if you coaxed yourself into believing your “C performance” is OK? That sometimes, being there is enough. Maybe you’re not brilliant, but you’re here. You’re functioning. You’re committed. You’re owning your work: This is you, it’s yours, and you’re not going anywhere.

What if I told you this was OK? You are OK. Could you step into a gentle place of acceptance? Would you have more compassion for yourself and more importantly, the people around you?

On days you’re less than great, sometimes this is when it counts most.

Fear and places we connect

On Valentine’s Day, I gave roses to strangers in Nepal. It sounds beautiful, but it began as a terrifying experience. I couldn’t bring myself to hand the first rose to an adult, I was too petrified. “What will she think? What will I say? What if the gift isn’t appreciated?” Instead, I approached a ten-year-old sitting beside her grandmother. The smile on the little girl’s face and her accompanying enthusiasm gave me the courage I needed to continue. Almost three dozen roses were distributed throughout the day.

Brené Brown discusses this kind of fear in Krista Tippett’s podcast (On Being is one of my favorites). She labels moments of vulnerability and insecurity as opportunities, treasures that allow us to connect more deeply with others. When we open ourselves to uncertainty and encounter moments of fear, we step into the doorway of stronger relationships. So we do shy away from these moments of doubt?

It takes courage to connect, but the rewards are endless.

PS – Invitations will soon be sent for March’s dinner event in New York City. Make sure you’re on the list or send me a note if you’re interested in attending.

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.