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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.

Make today uncomfortable

The most memorable moments involve some sort of discomfort; the greatest achievements celebrated because they’re a result of sacrifice and trial. Think: marathons, diplomas, childbirth. Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay’s Everest ascent. Malala Yousafzai. Countless others.

“Great achievement is usually born of great sacrifice, and is never the result of selfishness.” – Napoleon Hill

Don’t shy away from the difficult. When you find yourself struggling, uncomfortable, even angry, run into it.

Acceptance and a face tattoo

Last night I had a dream I got a tattoo. It was a big black tribal symbol winding down the side of my face and neck. Sometimes my hair would hide it, but no amount of accessories or clothing could conceal its dark lines. I spent most of the dream trying to come to terms with it and accept the fact I had this thing permanently etched onto my skin.

I’ve sat with NY Times bestselling authors, farmers in Nepal, Tibetan Buddhists, Wall Street sharks, Italian philosophers and millionaires from California. They all have one thing in common:

Everyone wants something.

I have yet to meet an individual who is 100% honestly, truly satisfied. Everyone has some benchmark they are trying to tip, some element of their life they wish they could change. This is life.

No matter where you are, who you are, how much money you have, or who sleeps next to you, there is something that could be better, easier, more exciting, different. This gap drives who we are and what we do. We spend so much time and energy building, creating, altering and striving that it seems against our nature to be satisfied.

Acceptance is one of those gold terms; if you nail it, you’re rich. Wealth comes from recognizing what cannot be changed and where there is opportunity (of self, of others, the good and bad of what life deals you). If you can work with what you have, you’re well on your way.

The psychology of wanting what you can’t have

There’s something out of reach, and your mind is focused on it like a laser. A job, a relationship, a sum of money, a status. Whatever it is, it is unavailable, and you know it. But that doesn’t stop you from dreaming about it.

Your brain has tricked you into thinking this is where the rewards are. A tasty cocktail of novelty, desire, delayed gratification, and dopamine has you convinced this is what will make you happy, this will bring peace and prosperity and satisfaction. You compare yourself to those who DO have, and you’ll never measure up.

This is easy.

You’re spending your energy and time on the unattainable. Your yearning is conveniently preventing you from focusing your attention on what you do have. While you fantasize about what you can’t have, the problems you can solve, the circumstances you can change, the talents you do possess sit idle on the sidelines.

Catch yourself. Catch yourself longing and redirect your thoughts to what is in the realm of possibility. Channel your energy towards places you can affect.

I have a hunch you’ll find more happiness there.

5 questions to measure success

I’ve been thinking about the American Dream and how we’ve come to define wealth and achievement. I’m turning 30 soon, a benchmark to pause and reflect on life’s work and progress.

Yet the ways in which I was taught to measure “success” don’t seem to apply to me.

I don’t own a house or a car. What I do own fits into a duffle bag. I sleep under a mosquito net. My savings account is negligible, I have student loans I will probably never be able to pay. I’m unmarried, I have no children. In full disclosure, it’s been awhile since I received a regular paycheck.

According to the American Dream, I’m a complete failure.

It has me wondering if our notion of wealth has become distorted. If the scales we use to determine value and impact are skewed, if we’re asking the wrong questions — both of ourselves of the organizations we trust.

As I enter a new decade, I consider:

Are you helping others?

Are you accomplishing set goals?

Do you feel welcomed into a community? 

Are there people in your life who support you?

Are you learning, getting just a little bit better, more patient, more compassionate, more understanding, more loving each day?

For more on redefining success, wealth and the American Dream, read my original post on Medium.