Category: Thoughts

The Correlation Fallacy

Did you know that the divorce rate in Maine and the per capita consumption of margarine are related.

It’s true.

Whenever one goes up, so does the other. When one goes down, same thing.

So, is margarine consumption a result of divorces in Maine? Do the prospects of court deliberations, split assets and alimony have Mainers running to the store for come Country Crock with their lobster dinner?

Not necessarily.

The Maine divorce rate-margarine consumption is a prime example of the adage correlation is not causation.

In other words, even if two things appear to be alike, they might not be related at all.

We’ve heard this time and again. Yet we continue to search for correlations, seemingly everywhere.

This has as much to do with innovation as anything.

With the growth of technology and the proliferation of big data sets, we have more raw records to peruse than ever before. More than we know what to do with.

There is no guidebook for turning this data into intelligible information. No rinse-and-repeat process to transform the data at hand into knowledge and solutions to make the world a better place.

With no roadmap to follow, we try to find needles in haystacks. We dive into the data, trying to find whatever relationships we can.

On the surface, this seems innocent enough. And it would be — if we were robots. Or Spock.

But we’re not.

We’re humans. Hot blooded, emotion-driven and filled with inherent biases.

A search for meaning is at the heart of our actions. We’re hard wired for this quest.

So, a simple dive through terabytes of data is actually a complex treasure hunt for causality. The objective: Find relationships that support our assertions and complete our narratives.

Instead of panning for gold, we’re data mining for affirmations. We’re finding whatever ammunition we can to support five words: I’m right and you’re wrong.

Those words are subjective. But with more access to data than ever before, we feel we have license to treat them as objective. Even if we must violate the correlation fallacy to do so.

This is how we end up with a world of alternative facts. A world of filter bubbles, chronic mistrust and divisiveness.

All because we refuse to abide by the rules of data assessment.

The world of statistics is filled with obscure names. While the dawning of America made the names Washington, Jefferson and Franklin renowned, fewer people know of Bayes, Boole, Pearson and Box.

The difference is as unsurprising as it is stark. One group of historic figures addressed its audience as We the People and spoke of Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. The other group came up with hypotheses and then rejected — or failed to reject — them using math.

One group did work that was invigorating and captivating. (Heck, they even made Broadway hip-hop musicals about it.) The other did work that was arcane and ambiguous.

It’s no surprise that we’re drawn to the narrative of the Founding Fathers over that of the Fathers of Statistics. The underdog story of how the United States came to be has spawned centuries of free enterprise, free speech and freedom to pursue the American dream. The story of statistics has left us running regressions in Excel and figuring out how Z-scores work on a normal distribution.

Yet, ideas and ideals can only get us so far. While it’s a blessing to live in a free society, it’s also true that hopes, dreams and $3 can get us a cup of coffee at Starbucks.

In order to thrive, we must be able to quantify our impact. Use of data is critical.

This is why the government has a Census every 10 years. It’s why companies and investors track their stock market performance. It’s why we monitor the number of steps we take when we exercise.

We are effectively data-driven. Particularly when something is up for debate.

When we need answers quick, there are few resources to turn to that are more universal than numbers. The strategy is simple: Pull the right data. Win the argument. Seize the day.

Yet, in our zeal to make data our Excalibur, we forget one key point. Statistics are not set up to be definitive.

On the contrary, they’re intentionally ambiguous.

There are too many strange factors out there — from freak occurrences to that which we cannot explain — for us to confidently say that a set of statistical equations can explain the whole world around us. It’s just not true.

The best we can do is point out which factors are related to — or correlated with — other factors. And then use that knowledge to make our arguments.

When we do this, time after time, we say we’re letting the numbers speak.

But the numbers are not speaking. Our inherent bias is.

By looking to settle a debate, we dive into the numbers with a narrative in mind. The correlations and relationships we find are those that either fulfill our narrative or reframe it in a way that still paints it in a positive light.

This is sleazy enough when it comes to matters of opinion. (Hence the issues with the filter bubble society we live in.) But it’s downright reckless when it comes to matters of healthcare treatment, financial wellness, security and public policy.

The decisions we affect in these areas have wide ranging implications. Whether our role is that of an industry professional, a politician, a journalist, a civic voter or something else, a subjective set of correlation analyses won’t cut it.

Yet, time and again, that’s what key decisions are made on. And we suffer the consequences, whether we notice them or not.

It’s time we break with this destructive pattern.

It’s time we stop treating statistics as our white horse, and correlations as our armor.

It’s time that we get some common sense.

When making key decisions, key arguments and key points, let us do more than hold blindly to the data.

Let us open our eyes and consider what’s going on in the world around us.

Let us consider opposing viewpoints, and how they might be valid.

Let us treat learning as discovery, not validation.

It’s only when we do all that that the data speak in volumes. It’s only when we do all this that the resulting decisions bring the most good.

Statistics are a powerful tool, but a delicate one.

Handle with care.

Origin Stories

It’s not where you came from, it’s where you’re headed.

You’ve likely heard this a time or two. Or something like it.

The idea is straightforward: Where we come from is insignificant.

There is no cap on our potential. With hard work, determination and a little luck, we can get where we want to go.

This idea is akin to an ideal. It’s aspirational. It’s uplifting.

And it’s not true.

In reality, we do care about where we came from. Our origin stories matter.

In every aspect of our lives — from family to food to entertainment to shopping, we are obsessed with origins.

Whether we’re traveling through the silver screen to Tatooine to meet Luke Skywalker in Star Wars, reading of Apple’s beginnings in a garage or learning of where the ingredients of tonight’s meal are from, the origin stories are a big part of the ride. Similarly, getting to know new people often means trading stories of where we came from and how we got here.

These patterns are inherently embedded. They’re why the three act structure of storytelling is so prevalent in movies, theater and TV shows. They’re why meeting a romantic partner’s parents is such a key milestone in courtship.

This is no accident.

Origin stories break down boundaries. They make us relatable. And they help forge emotional ties.

As social beings, we are wired for these types of interactions. Yet, we are also vigilant at fighting off the threats that might undermine our existence.

We’ve come up with an elaborate system to reconcile these opposing sensations. One where we separate the world into those we rely on and those we’re wary of.

The dividing line between these two segments is trust. We build social relationships with those we trust. And we try and avoid contact with those we don’t.

Trust is inherently valuable. And earning it is no easy feat.

It requires a series of consistent actions. It requires proof of selflessness. And it requires relatability.

The first two components can be achieved with a measure of persistence over time. But the third one requires something more.

It requires a massive dose of humility.

And there’s no better vehicle for that sensation than an origin story.

For no matter how powerful we might seem, our origins are derived from a place of vulnerability. We start the journey of our existence meekly, lacking the ability for self-sufficiency.

This is true no matter the circumstances of our origin. Regardless our ethnicity, nationality or socioeconomic class, our early days are ones of weakness. They’re the cocoon we metamorphize out of.

In many ways, these formative years are our greatest shared human experience. They’re the great equalizer we can all relate to.

Rehashing them can help us find common ground. They help us put our cards on the table and say Hey, I’m human too.

It might feel cringe-worthy to harken back to those early days. We might instead feel the urge to share with others what we have acute control over — our decisions, accomplishments and aspirations.

But there is power in the past.

The power of context. The power of introspection. And the power of connection.

This is the power that forges the strongest bonds. This is the power that can help us continue to grow and thrive.

It would be foolish to pass this potential up in the name of vanity and ego.

Yes, where we’re headed matters. But so does where we came from.

Never forget that.

 

The Art of Being Real

What objective are you striving for?

Is it to find greatness? To maximize fulfillment? To attain balance?

These are popular goals to shoot for in life. But my answer to this question is a lot less glamourous.

I strive to be real.

Each and every day, I seek to stay grounded by a singularity of purpose.

I tend not to sugarcoat things, or put on airs.

Instead, I say what I mean. And I do what I say.

The premise is simple. If people know what to expect of me, they can count on me to deliver.

The congruency of my words and actions builds trust. That trust speaks volumes. But it also keeps me on my toes.

For being real is a self-fulfilling prophecy. Once one gains a reputation of reliability, one is expected to maintain it.

Others expect me to be true to my word. And staying true to my word means staying true to myself.

This cycle keeps me grounded in reality. At least in theory.

In actuality, my sense of reality is different than just about anyone else’s. It’s inherently biased by my perceptions of my own experiences.

This contradiction is present everywhere I go, and on everything I touch. It’s perhaps most prominent on this website — Words of the West.

When I started this site, I labeled it as a forum where I would share my truth. Yet, that truth often belies the brand I’ve built.

The words I share here are not particularly western. These articles are not Cowboy Poetry, or the words you might find read at a Chuckwagon Roundup. In fact, many of them draw from my experience growing up along the East Coast of the US.

So, what gives? Why would I — someone who values being real — create a brand laced with inconsistency?

The answer has to do with aspiration. Words of the West is as much about the reality I seek to live into in the future than it is about the one I embrace today.

Let’s dive deeper into that statement.

In my view, there are three components of being real.

One component entails understanding your origin. It requires full awareness of where you came from, and how that shaped who you are today.

A second component entails understanding your surroundings. It requires awareness of the intricate web of context in the world around you, and how your actions will be perceived.

A third concept entails understanding your future. It requires the awareness that your reality today might differ from your reality tomorrow.

Unless we find ourselves running from a traumatic childhood, we can often reconcile with the first component. By the time we reach adulthood, we tend to understand how our origin impacted our perspective.

Yet, we often trip ourselves up on the second component. If we have a poor sense of self, we might spring ourselves into action without first considering the contextual consequences.

The words we say and things we do in these moments are impulsive. They lack a central underlying theme.

As such, we find ourselves with such unwanted labels as fake and two-faced.

A commitment to consistency can change this narrative. Aligning actions and words to a common line of thinking can help us build the social capital we need to be considered genuine and true.

This seems like the goal to shoot for. But we can, and should, go much farther.

For our reality will continue to evolve. And the more we can see around the bend, the better we’ll be able to stay on course through these changes.

This is what I’m seeking to do with Words of the West.

In my case, my origins are back east. My present reality is located physically in Texas and holistically within the context of modern American culture. And my aspirational reality — the reality I seek to achieve — that is what I write about each week.

Much like the west, the reality I aspire toward appears simple but is filled with hidden nuance. Its possibilities are wide open, yet its path is guided by a sense of morality. It tells its own story — one that appears grandiose but it never too big for its britches.

It’s the reality I dream of. But not the one that I’m ready to live into quite yet.

That awareness is what inspires me.

It motivates me to keep sharing my voice here. And it reminds me to stay true to the standards I’ve set for myself each and every day.

These objectives might not be glamorous. But they’re real.

And I wouldn’t want it any other way.

The Unknown Paradox

Give me a chance, and I’ll make it worth your while.

There’s a good chance we’re familiar with this line.

After all, opportunities are critical components of life. And earning opportunities requires us to cede some control.

If we’re not born into royalty or extreme wealth, our destiny isn’t handed to us on a silver platter.

Sure, our parents and our advocates in the community will put us in position to succeed — if we’re lucky. Yet, the keys to the most impactful opportunities in our lives often lie in the hands of others.

They require a leap of faith by someone newer to our narrative. Someone weighing the balance of hitching their success to ours — often without a longstanding connection with us preceding their decision.

When we ask someone out, when we pursue college or graduate school, when we apply for a job — we’re putting the fate of life changing decisions in the hands of someone new. We’re providing our flight plan to a distant acquaintance and praying that we’ll be cleared for takeoff.

Many times, we’ll get approval. Other times, we’ll be rebuffed.

Either way, our fate is not fully in our hands. We need a leap of faith to open the gate to the next adventure.

There is no such thing as the Self-Made Man. If we’re working for the man, we need an advocate who offers the employment agreement. If we’re trying to be the man — and working for ourselves — we won’t get far without the faith of consumers in our business.

After all, it’s hard to pay the bills when there’s no money coming in.

And if we’re looking for the love of our life? Well, it’s best if the person we seek finds the same quality in us. Otherwise, happily ever after for one might be a living nightmare for another.

Yes, our destiny relies on others to give us a chance. Even when familiarity is lacking.

Getting past this hurdle requires both bravado and humility. We must make the case that we’re worth choosing. We must also reconcile with the fact that we might not be chosen.

I believe this process makes us better.

I, for one, don’t believe I’d be the man I am today if the world simply rolled out the red carpet for me.

At each twist and turn of my journey, there was someone who gave me a chance.

The decision to give me a shot could not have been easy for these individuals. It was a choice peppered with risk.

But these brave men and women pushed forward anyway. They provided me the chance to go to college and graduate school. They gave me an income and a foothold in two disparate careers.

I would, quite literally, not be where I am right now if even one of those opportunities had not been granted to me.

I’m continually grateful for the chances I’ve been given. For those who put their faith in me when it wasn’t necessarily the logical decision to make. It’s something I will not forget.

Yet, while I believe this Leap of Faith system generally works — as I’ve seen it work in my own life — I’ve come to recognize it has a significant blind spot.

I call it The Unknown Paradox.

The Unknown Paradox shows up when someone seeks a 180 degree turn in their life trajectory. When they seek to jump in the deep end of the pool to reboot their narrative.

It shows up when the playboy bachelor decides to settle down and get serious. Or when the Wall Street hotshot aspires to leave the hedge fund behind to become a chef.

These changes are the fodder our favorite literature and movies are made of. They’re the embodiment of freedom of destiny. They’re encapsulations of the American dream.

Yet, in practice, they’re often an exercise in futility.

For the leap of faith needed to continue the metamorphosis is all too often lacking. No one is willing to give the person a chance to prove themselves.

The career-shifter, the reformed person — they’re too much of an unknown.

They’re a potato fresh out of the oven. Too hot to touch.

I experienced this firsthand when I left the news media.

While working in the news, I had seen several colleagues transition from journalists to corporate communications and media relations roles. So, as I prepared to make a career shift, I pursued these jobs doggedly.

I set my sights on Dallas, which had far more companies with open job positions than the cities in West Texas did. I applied to a couple of positions each day, before heading to the TV station for my shift.

At first, I scored a few phone interviews. But the interviewers seemed to consider me more of an anomaly than a legitimate candidate.

Soon, the interview opportunities dried up. Then, my apartment lease ran out, and I ended up relocating to an extended stay hotel in Fort Worth without a job lined up.

Over the next three months, I proceeded to burn up my savings and max out my credit card as I searched for that elusive opportunity. The situation got so dire that I was applying for Administrative Assistant jobs when I finally landed a full-time job.

That job was in digital marketing — something I had less experience with than the communication roles I’d been applying for. Yet, my former boss saw fit to offer me an opportunity back then, and I ran with it.

I’ve since evolved into an experienced marketer, and I continue to work at growing my knowledge of the craft.

But even though my story ended favorably, I can’t shake the memories of my difficult career transition. In particular, a question from those harrowing days continues to haunt me.

Why were so many so afraid to give me a shot?

Was I expected to be a prisoner to my resume? Was my career path anchored by my college major? Did my decision to switch roles paint me as unmotivated or unreliable?

It’s impossible to know for sure. But based off of what I experienced, I’d have to believe the answer was Yes. Or at least Maybe.

And many others stuck in The Unknown Paradox would likely say the same.

This is both ironic and problematic.

Our eligibility for opportunities should not rest on our initial choice of career path. We make those decisions when we’re teenagers — lacking in maturity, adult experience and real-world decision making expertise.

We rarely get it right the first time. Often, it’s because of that wayward experience that we gain the skills needed to get it right the second time.

Yet, gaining that second opportunity is exceedingly difficult when we’re banished to the penalty box for being off the mark with our initial career choice.

This confounding Catch-22 is bad enough. But The Unknown Paradox also sends the message that grit and initiative have little real-world value.

It’s a message that’s as confounding as it is demoralizing.

Those seeking the opportunity to make a change are likely the most motivated to bust tail if given a chance to begin anew. Freezing them out is shortsighted and counterproductive.

And, of course, this all taps into another conundrum: Gatekeepers demanding experience from opportunity-seekers without providing the opportunity to obtain said experience.

Add it all up, and the Unknown Paradox closes doors to more opportunities than risks. It’s a net negative.

It’s time to end this wasteful cycle.

It’s time to stop demanding tried and true. And to embrace energized and new in its place.

For the current system isn’t working the way we intended.

The safe bets, the reliable choices — they can end up far from extraordinary. Those great skillsets and track records can all too often disintegrate into a pool of apathy.

And the more we hitch ourselves to this decision-making model, the further our society is pulled into the quicksand of lethargy.

We need a boost. A shock to our collective system to drag us away from the abyss.

This jolt lies within those who have the courage to change. With those who have the guts to put themselves out there and risk everything for a more fulfilling future.

The people who do this might not have the proven attributes we’re looking for on paper. But they have initiative, grit and heart.

These are attributes that can’t be taught. But they can be invaluable to have on our side.

They’re worth opening a door to. They’re worth braving the fog of the unknown to find.

It’s about time we did so.

Bridging the Gap

Differences.

They’re a constant in life.

The way we experience daily life differs from the way others do. What’s matters to us might not be of concern to them, and vice versa.

This gap is as wide between Denver and Dakar is it is between South Central LA and Beverly Hills. And it can be as present amongst our neighbors as it is amongst those further afield.

The freedom some of us might take for granted is far from certain for others. And we are blissfully unaware of the fear others face taking on what might seem to us to be mundane tasks.

These experiential differences often exacerbate divisions between corners of our society. They can provoke radical movements, some of which can turn ugly and violent. And they can serve as a barrier to unifying solutions.

This final effect is perhaps most concerning. For while our society increasingly values productive collaboration over The Self Made Man these days, it’s hard to work together without common understanding. And it’s hard to find common understanding without knowledge of differing perspectives.

To bridge this gap, the prevailing wisdom is to take a walk in someone else’s shoes. To live as others would live. To see the world from their eyes.

This is what Baba Amte did in India. A lawyer by trade, Amte encountered a leper on the side of the road one rainy night. Amte ran away in horror, but later returned and comforted the dying leper. Then he created a lepers’ colony and moved his young family to it — even though none of them had leprosy.

This is also what Daryl Davis did right here in America. Davis, a black blues musician, met with Ku Klux Klan leaders and attended their rallies. He took these actions so that he could understand the perspective of Klan leaders — even if some of those perspectives shook him to his core.

(Thank you to Mark Manson for sharing Davis’ story in a recent article.)

Of course, not all of us have the commitment or courage to do what Amte and Davis did. Indeed, it was quite dangerous — possibly even reckless — for these men to do what they did.

But we don’t necessarily have to walk in another’s shoes to understand a new perspective. Sometimes all we need to do is take a run in our own.

At the start of a sweltering summer day, I prepared for my pre-dawn run.

These early morning jaunts through my neighborhood have become a staple of my workout routine in recent years. During the stifling Texas summers, they’re a borderline necessity. When the sun rises, so does the risk of heatstroke if you’re exerting yourself.

Yet, this time as I set out, I did something peculiar. I left home without a shirt.

The previous time I had gone running, I found myself sweating through my shirt. Even with temperatures at their lowest point of the day, and the sun well beyond the eastern horizon, the midsummer night air wasn’t exactly refreshing.

So this time, I decided to run shirtless. What can it hurt? I asked myself. It’s dark out anyway.

I made it to the halfway point of my run, and made the turn for home. But moments later, a pickup truck traveling in my direction slowed down and started pacing me.

As I turned my head to the left to see what was going on, the driver rolled down the window closest to me. He hollered Keep it up. Then the truck sped off.

This incident completely freaked me out. And the last mile of my run that morning seemed to take forever.

By the time I got back home, I resolved not to run without a shirt again. I’ve stayed true to my edict, and I’ve yet to encounter any incidents like that again.

What was it about this incident that left me so badly unhinged?

Well, for one thing, I did not appreciate the unwanted attention I received. If a woman on the sidewalk had hollered the same thing to me this male pickup truck driver did, I would have been just as freaked out.

I was not seeking to get noticed that morning — or anytime I go running.

Sure, I might wave to passing runners. But otherwise, I’m in my own realm. I abhor being recognized, unless I’m in the path of a passing vehicle.

But there was something more that bothered me.

As I replayed this odd situation over and over in my mind, I kept asking myself the same questions.

What if this pickup driver had a gun? What if he had ill intentions he was hell-bent on acting upon?

These are odd prospects to consider. But so is a pickup truck pacing a runner on a road before dawn.

This is exactly the type of scenario that can lead to a drive-by shooting, or an abduction. And while there was no rational reason for those fates to befall me that morning, immoral actions are all too often irrational.

As I thought of these prospects of foul-play, I recognized just how vulnerable I was in that moment. I had hardly any recourse to protect myself. And that realization was terrifying.

Yet, as unnerving as my running incident was, I realized it would have been even worse for others.

For I am a white man. The chances of bad fates befalling me are relatively low.

Sure, I could end up in the wrong place at the right time. There’s always a chance I might get robbed, or get injured in a car accident. If I drank alcohol or hung around bars more, I would also increase my chances of something bad happening.

But by and large, I can go through my day carefree.

If I were black, Hispanic, Arabic, Asian, or Indian — well, sadly, I wouldn’t be able to say the same. If I was running without a shirt and happened to be one of these ethnicities, I would likely have been on high alert from the word Go. If noticed a pickup truck pacing me, my first instinct might have been dread, not confusion. The tension I would feel would be instant and palpable.

And if I were a woman of any ethnicity in this scenario — in a sports bra or fully-attired — the terror meter would be up to 11. There have been enough stories of women being abducted during early morning runs that many have abandoned the practice entirely.

In fact, the thought of venturing out alone at night alone — for any purpose — can terrify some women. There have been too many nefarious stories to make even a few steps under the stars seem prudent without a can of pepper spray or a firearm.

I’ve encountered this trepidation firsthand. When I worked evenings as a news producer in West Texas, some of our female reporters occasionally asked me to walk out of the building with them at the end of my shift. This made them feel safer then venturing into the parking lot alone.

I always obliged — not because I knew their fear firsthand, but because I empathized with the fact that it existed.

I still can’t say I know the fear women, or men of other ethnicities, face in these instances. But the more I think about my running incident, the more I recognize how paralyzing it must be.

And the more I want to do what I can to eradicate it.

Bridging the gap in our perspectives and experience doesn’t require the drastic odysseys of Baba Amte or Daryl Davis. It doesn’t require getting yourself into scenarios that unveil our vulnerabilities, as I did.

It only requires two things: Understanding and action.

We must be able to understand that what seems mundane to us might be terrifying to others. Even when we cannot internalize the fear ourselves, we must be aware of its presence.

And with this knowledge in mind, we must act to protect those who face these terrors.

We’d be well-served to believe women who come forward as victims of abuse. We’d be well-served to hold police when they put the lives of unarmed minorities in danger.

When walking down on the street, we’d be well-served to look upon those who look different than us with friendliness, not scorn. We’d be well-served not to stare at women based on the contours of their bodies or the dearth of their attire.

We won’t always get it right, of course. Incidents between police and citizens can be complicated, and sometimes unarmed minorities might not be innocent bystanders. Some women who come forward with accusations might have an axe to grind, instead of a true story of victimization. Some of the people we encounter on the street do indeed have nefarious thoughts on their minds.

But these edge cases are not, by themselves, significant enough for us to burn all bridges of understanding. They’re not prevalent enough for us to sever all hope of a more united, connected tomorrow.

The truth remains: There are plenty of people with innocent souls who must contend with paralyzing fear, day-in, day-out — simply because of the rotten way the world treats them for how they look.

Our collective assumption biases shatter innocence, sow division and provoke tragedy. It’s a poison pill for progress.

Yet, there is another way. We have the power to change our perspectives, and reshape the future.

We must do so.

Plasticity

How malleable are you?

It’s an important question.

It implies that flexibility is paramount. That shifting our perceptions can be advisable.

Depending on the context, this may indeed be true.

Surely, we’re expected to know more toward the end of our lives than we are at the start. After all, we’re not born with the capability to chew solid food or lift up our heads. We don’t start school knowing how to solve algebra problems or structure prepositional phrases.

We must be able to adapt as we grow, so that we can add these abilities to our tool chest.

Whether ingrained through nature or through such imposed structures as the school system, we’re compelled to get from Point A to Point B. To transform ourselves from drooling babies to fully-functioning adolescents.

Yet, once we turn 18, the compulsory rigor is up. We’ve long ago willed ourselves to walk, talk and get dressed. We’ve gone through the ringer of 12 years of schooling. And we’ve finally stepped out from the shadow of our parents and guardians when it comes to ownership of decisions.

We’ve come to the end of the line. Any future opportunities to expand our minds are on us.

It’s a strange time for this demarcation. Although our bodies are nearly fully developed, our minds are not.

In many ways, we are at our most vulnerable. Our brash egos hide the overwhelming fear that lies within us.

We know nothing about responsibility from an adult perspective. How could we? We’ve spent our entire lives to date with a protective blanket bolstering our evolution.

So, we overcompensate by emboldening ourselves. We drive fast, act dumb and chase lust over love. We make the mistakes befitting of our immaturity.

Then, eventually, we see the error of our ways. And step by step, we change.

We settle down. We mellow out. And we take a broader, more mature perspective.

Or, at least some us do.

Indeed, this is where the issue of malleability comes in to the picture.

Theoretically, those who are malleable will have the courage and the humility to make the changes needed to act more responsibly over time. The others will stick to their adolescent principles, remaining irresponsible and short-sighted over the long haul.

There’s a clear imperative. Embrace malleability, or else.

Yet, there is such a thing as being too malleable. Of not having any principles to stand behind.

This too can present a problem. For in the pursuit of such overwhelming change, we risk losing our identity entirely. And in doing so, we risk losing ourselves.

As such, I prefer to consider adaptability by a different name — plasticity.

Plasticity implies maintaining a solid core, yet adapting our exterior to meet our surroundings. It means expanding our capabilities without sacrificing our personality. It means staying true to our principles in a way that betters those around us.

I find this delineation critically important. For it holds true in my own experience.

Like many, I was not ready for prime-time when I turned 18. Sure I felt like I was mature enough at the time, but I was only deluding myself. I had no idea how to act properly, from a social, psychological or financial perspective.

A recent visit to my college campus made this abundantly clear. As I walked the brick paths, memories came flooding back. All followed by the refrain I was so young and stupid back then.

How did I get from that point to where I am today? Slowly and methodically.

As I trekked through early adulthood, I came across new experiences and inherited new responsibilities. I had to adapt to meet these new expectations, handling each scenario in a context-specific way.

My core essence remained the same. But my outward presentation varied depending on the situation.

Sometimes, I equipped myself properly to handle the new scenario I faced. Other times, I fell on my face.

Either way, I gained experience and perspective. And this helped me act more conscientiously and responsibly as my adulthood progressed.

There’s no doubt in my mind that plasticity is the concept that best describes my evolution over the past several years. I haven’t so much grown as diversified.

And I believe plasticity applies on a wider context as well.

It explains the theory of having one self, rather than being our best self. We can adapt our mindset to unlock achievement, happiness and fulfillment. Yet, we don’t need to sacrifice our core essence to reach these results.

It explains the theory of selfless action. We can make our principles our tools, yet let our plasticity guide our endowment of those tools to help others ahead of ourselves.

And it explains the theory of growth mindset. We can allow our minds to expand, and new perspectives to factor into our decisions. All while remaining true to our personality.

Ultimately, that’s what life’s about. Being adaptable to the rise and fall of the tides, but having the backbone to stand tall in unrelenting winds.

Plasticity makes this all possible. We’d be best served to embrace it.

The Common Code

I consider myself a communication enthusiast.

This might seem intuitive, given my background. My bachelor’s degree is in communications. I spent nearly three years as a TV news producer. I’ve shared my thoughts for years on Words of the West.

Yet, my passion for communication goes far deeper.

I am fascinated by languages. I learned Spanish in school, and I do my best to stay proficient in it. I also enjoy listening to languages I don’t speak — Italian, French, German, Japanese, Chinese — and picking up on the different patterns between tongues.

I enjoy web coding. I’ve become ensconced with HTML, CSS and JavaScript. The ability to change the look and feel of an online asset with a set of keystrokes is as fascinating as it is terrifying.

And I enjoy numbers. I consider the ability to solve problems and make predictions using a universal ruleset to be eye opening. And the impact these actions have had on our understanding of the world continues to inspire me.

Language. Web code. Numbers.

These seem to be a diverging diaspora at first. A set of interests that stray further and further from my passion for the written word.

And yet, I feel they are intrinsically linked.

You see, I view all of these disciplines as communication subsets. While each subset has its own context, they share a common purpose.

Language, web coding and numbers all serve as information transfer protocols. They all represent actions that lead to intended responses.

One can speak numbers just as well as one can speak with prose. And the impact of sharing this information can be just as profound.

Yet, these talents are not universal. We don’t have the innate ability to understand language, code websites or solve algebra problems.

Such abilities must be learned. We must put in hours upon hours of practice to gain proficiency.

This is no easy task. It’s rife with false starts, growing pains and frustration.

But when we attain mastery, we enter an exclusive club. We gain the ability to share information with others who are just as proficient. And we can use these powers to connect, collaborate and achieve.

This is the holy grail of communication.

It’s the backbone of human development. The neural network that drives innovation. The key to unlock that which has long been beyond our comprehension.

Communication, in all its forms, is essential to success. Albert Einstein couldn’t have shared the theory of relativity without the vehicle of math. Google and Amazon couldn’t have changed the way we search and shop without a code standard in place.

Yes, it can be frustrating that the protocols are scattered. That Portuguese is incompatible with Korean. That HTML code is different than algebraic expressions.

But those divisions can be a blessing in disguise.

They allow for context-specific innovation. Innovation that is first incubated within a particular culture or area of expertise.  Innovation that can only be shared outside of these circles with those who make the effort to learn the underlying protocols.

I believe this arrangement allows for greater diversity of thought. I believe it provides for a wider expansion of ideas than would be possible if everything was under one unifying code.

And for the intellectually curious, this arrangement ignites the passion to keep exploring. To learn, grow and discover.

These benefits overshadow the inconveniences of the communication diaspora. They underline both a common truth, and a call to action.

Communication, in all its contexts, is worth understanding.

Let’s expand our horizons.

The Components of Safety

Safety.

It’s a term that instantly stimulates our minds.

It evokes imagery of a blanket. Or a lock and key.

These connotations demonstrate just how pervasive this aspect of our lives is. What else can combine images of something so warm and soft with something so cold and metallic?

Even so, it’s hard for us to pinpoint why safety is so essential. Much like True North or gravity, we seem to take its presence in our lives for granted.

I believe this assumption is less willful than it is inevitable.

We inherently know to hold safety in high regard. Yet, we can’t seem to verbalize our instinct.

Perhaps this is the case because the concept of safety crosses basic boundaries of classification. There’s the physical component, which insulates us from mortal injury. And then there’s the mental component, which insulates us from disastrous consequences.

At first glance, the physical component would seem to be the most important. After all, if this aspect were to eviscerate, so would our existence.

The physical component of safety is the reason there are railings on balconies and seat belts in cars. It explains why we know better than to jump from a cliff face onto jagged rocks below. Or why we shuffle our feet when traversing icy sidewalks in tennis shoes.

By tending to our physical safety, we prevent ourselves from getting maimed, paralyzed or killed. Perhaps just as critically, we avoid reduction of our existence to a statistic of infamy.

The list of tragic blunders is already quite lengthy. Anytime we say Don’t do that. It can kill you. it means two things.

  1. Someone did do that very thing and paid the ultimate price.
  2. Someone else likely witnessed the tragedy and warned others not to repeat the action.

If we keep safety front and center, we avoid becoming one of these cautionary tales.

So, yes. The physical component of safety is quite essential. But it doesn’t hold a candle to the mental component.

The mental component of safety is what insulates us from undesired outcomes. These can include the loss of status, the loss of income and the loss of possessions.

These circumstances are seemingly less severe than major injury, paralysis or death. While those outcomes are permanent, it’s possible to recover from the setbacks from a loss or prestige or earthly possessions.

Yet, the mental component of safety has an outsized impact on our behavior. While the physical component impacts our actions in the moment, the mental component impacts our behavior over the long term.

And this is not always to our benefit.

Consider this.

When we prioritize our mental safety, we often aim for stability. This causes us to become risk-averse to a fault.

Why? Because risk provokes change. And change threatens stability.

Avoiding risk is tantamount to maintaining our status quo. So, the safe play is the least risky option.

Yet, risk-aversion can cause us to limit our potential. It can cause us to sacrifice happiness for steadiness. It can cause us to leave opportunities on the table when they aren’t a sure thing.

The more decisions we make under this guise, the more we find ourselves trapped.

We settle for what we get. And we stick with it, even if it saps the joy and vitality out of our lives.

Worse still, our society actively reinforces this behavior.

We’re expected to work to earn the money that pays the bills. To follow the well-worn path others have walked before. To be inconspicuous, safe and normal.

Our happiness and our untapped potential don’t factor into these expectations.

Sure, we pay lip service to these factors through Christmas cards, Hollywood movie scripts and the year-end bonus system. But we are trained to be means to an end. To promote the system that keeps us all ordinary, and thereby protects us.

The problem is that all of this is a grand illusion.

No matter how safe we’re taught to play it, risk abounds. Bad circumstances continue to lurk around the bend, looking for the right moment to strike.

And since we’re ingrained with the values of stability, we find ourselves woefully unprepared to deal with sudden and unexpected changes.

When we lose our job or our home, we feel violated. And when we lose our status, we’re devastated.

These situations generally don’t leave us dead or disfigured. They generally don’t leave us in mourning over the loss of a loved one.

Even so, we end up emotionally broken.

We’re completely unable to cope with circumstance. The house of cards we built to organize our lives has been toppled by a Jenga tower. And we don’t know what to do next.

There’s only one way out of this maelstrom. And that’s to take a sledgehammer to the rules of the mental component of safety.

Only by accounting for risk can we be prepared to deal with it. That means acting a little bolder, staying a little truer to our spirit and even formulating Plan B while Plan A is humming along.

By making ourselves a little more vulnerable, we strengthen our resiliency.

And if we do this at scale, we can break the chains that bind us. We can formally reject the societal codes that leave us defanged in our volatile world.

So, let’s stop running from risk. And let’s embrace a universal truth.

Safety is important. But it’s not a panacea.

Act accordingly.

Nature Redefined

What is the best we can be?

The question is top of mind, following an advertisement that has stirred the pot quite a bit.

In the ad, razor company Gillette challenges its own tagline The Best A Man Can Get. The company addresses examples of bullying and sexual harassment. Then it challenges men to rise above this behavior, even launching a new tagline The Best Men Can Be.

This ad really resonated with me. After all, my mantra is Be Present. Be Informed. Be Better. And the ad spoke right to that third pillar.

Yet, the clunky delivery and heavy-handed message of the ad left many incensed. In one fell swoop, a company focused heavily on men’s products seemed to be attacking masculinity. To some, it seemed like a betrayal of the highest order.

On a basic level, I can empathize with this sentiment. As a man, it’s hard not to feel vilified these days. While the Me Too movement has held prominent men accountable for their abusive behavior, it has, at times, painted with a broad brush. And when it has, it’s lumped the entire male species in with the transgressors.

This bold typecasting is one of the most effective ways of sparking the discussion needed to  effect social change. The process of cultural transformation is inherently uncomfortable, after all. It’s hard to make a difference without pushing the boundaries of what we’re collectively accustomed to first.

Yet, there’s a fine line between uncomfortable and threatening. And the Gillette ad was a bit cavalier at times when navigating that line.

As such, I understand some of the backlash. But not all of it.

Why? Because many of the angriest voices seemed to be rallying around the term Boys Will Be Boys. And that is unacceptable.

Boys Will Be Boys is the line that comes up most often when defending reprehensible male behavior. It attributes transgressions to male nature, rather than conscious immorality. And in doing so, it lets the offender go scot-free.

Boys Will Be Boys is a line that serves as a license to condone fighting, womanizing and drunken belligerence. It’s a line that serves as a license to permit a hazing and bullying to flourish systematically. It’s a line that even serves as a license to shrug off sexual assault allegations levied against Supreme Court justices — the supposed moral compasses of the land.

It’s a line that needs to go.

The more we skirt accountability as men, the more our society suffers. It doesn’t matter whether we’re 15 or 55. We must be held accountable for our actions.

This includes reining in the more garish sides of masculinity. It means eradicating behavior that make women feel inferior or unsafe — the very disparities that have sparked the Me Too movement.

Now, men are not entirely to blame for these disparities. Women have not always unified to protect their rightful sense of status or safety. In fact, the level of deceit and betrayal some women levy on other women could make the most stone-faced men blush.

But in a world where men have for too long had a monopoly of power and influence, it is men who must lead the charge to heal these transgressions. It is men who must set a new standard to help promote a world that is fairer and safer for all. It is men who must resolve to be better.

It starts with burying Boys Will Be Boys for once and for all. With understanding that nature can be redefined. With recognizing that new cultural expectations can, and must, be set.

This, I believe, is the message Gillette was trying to promote. And it’s one worth listening to.

Let’s heed the call. Let’s be the change.

Unexcused

Would you rather go all-in, or only venture part way?

Most of us will take the first option in theory. But we tend to follow the second one in practice.

One of our greatest talents is giving a full 95 percent. We do this for self-preservation — of mind, body and perception.

Going all-in in its truest sense is terrifying and potentially hazardous. Holding a little bit back seems like the safer play.

Yet, holding back comes with some nasty side effects. Most notably, it antagonizes our sense of accountability.

For when we give less than our all, we absolve ourselves of some responsibility.

In particular, we create a convenient forum for excuses when things don’t go right.

The buck no longer stops with us. We can name our own villains to make our lack of full commitment sound heroic.

We know this behavior is wrong. Immoral even. Yet, we still find ourselves falling into this obvious trap, time and again.

It’s human nature.

I understand this as well as anyone. I’ve long harped on the virtues of responsibility. On the importance of being conscientiously decisive. On the value of remaining accountable for our actions.

With every word I write and every idea I share, I seek to expand horizons and stamp out excuses.

Yet, I’ve done a poor job practicing what I preach. When others have asked why I haven’t taken the plunge on a daunting task, I’ve generally had a trusty excuse handy.

For the longest time, I didn’t think twice about this hypocrisy — the no excuse guy peddling excuses of his own.

But then, a friend shared six words that floored me.

Losers make excuses. Winners make money.

That message cut deep.

Not because I view the world as a zero-sum game of winners and losers. (I don’t.) Not because I’m keen on equating success with money. (I’m not.)

No, those words resonated because they quantified the value of excuses. A value that is precisely zero.

I don’t want to spend my days working on something worthless. And I’m sure I’m not alone in that regard.

Yet, each time we spout off another excuse, that’s exactly what we’re doing.

So, how do we dig our way out of this hole? How do we stop explaining away our actions to mask our cowardice?

We can start by hitting the throttle. By bursting through the barriers we build to self-censor our potential.

It’s time for us to stop demonizing heightened expectations. It’s time for us to stop fearing failure. It’s time for us to stop worrying about our external perception more than our internal growth.

It’s time for us to go all-in.

Excuses have no value in our narrative. Let’s leave them with no place to hide.