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The boy who hung the curtain rod

I went downstairs to bring the workers coffee. When I returned, the boy, age 16 or 17, was standing on a table hammering enthusiastically. He had set three fixtures in place, and the curtain rod rested squarely upon them. Great work — except he was standing outside.

“What are you doing?” I asked, somewhat perplexed to see adornment of this kind hanging on a building’s exterior. “Have you ever seen curtains on the outside of a house?”

“Brother says me to,” was his reply. It was an order, the task assigned to him.

We need to teach our young people to think, not to follow.

 

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.

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.

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.