Category: Thoughts

Who We Are

“I’ll just be Jules, Vincent.”

I love this line, which is from my favorite movie — Pulp Fiction.

It comes as gang enforcers Jules Winnfield and Vincent Vega are eating breakfast at a coffee shop in Southern California. Noting an earlier near-death experience where he “saw God,” Jules tells Vincent that he aspires to leave the gangster life and “walk the earth.” After Vincent responds by calling him a bum, Jules uncorks those five powerful words.

It might seem strange that this line resonates with me the way it does. After all, it’s far from Shakespearean. It doesn’t even roll off the tongue.

Why does it strike such a chord? Because it gets real. Realer than we’re willing to get.

You see, when we describe who we are, we tend to use a ton of labels as identifiers. Our job, our ethnicity, our family name. Whether it’s ego talking or the realities of a culture built on the twin concepts of diversity and resumes, these labels dominate the discussion. They describe us, define us and even impact our behavior.

Our obsession with rising in stature — both professionally and socially — is fueled in part by our label-crazed culture. And our achievements are shrouded in the context of these labels.

But they don’t define who we are.

Strip all the labels away, and we still have something unique to contribute.

Our quirks, our habits, our intonations, our looks, our interests and hobbies — these attributes are geared toward our individuality. Sure, we might share some of them with relatives, friends, or even complete strangers. But ultimately, the combination of all these attributes makes us unique. It makes us 1 in 7 billion.

The decisions we make, the paths we choose to navigate life’s complexities — these all ought to be as unique as we are as well. But all too often, they get caught in the fray of our label obsession.

This is a reflection of human nature. After all, we are social beings. It’s totally normal to want to conform. It builds camaraderie and a shared community.

Even so, we must consider what we’re sacrificing in this exchange.

Can we do better for ourselves when it comes to the decisions we make? All too often, the answer is yes.

Now, I’m not saying we should all Walk the Earth without a rhyme or reason to it. That strategy is far from foolproof, even in a Hollywood script. (The fate of Jules Winnfield is intentionally left ambiguous in the film.)

That said, I do think we can use the decisions we make to show more of who we really are.

This shift might make us feel squeamish, but it’s worth fighting through the internal discomfort. Why? Because refocusing our internal compass around our individuality forces us to conquer the apprehensiveness of making a decision for ourselves, rather than the acceptance of the masses. It allows us to describe who we are through our actions, rather than our accolades.

Most of all, it leaves us happier and freer. Life is not like its eponymous board game. We each have our own path to follow. Chaining ourselves to the wagon trails others is masochistic and counterproductive.

So, let’s just be Jules. Or Pete. Or Vanessa. Or Cory, Danielle, Taylor, Dylan — you get the idea.

We don’t need more than that to express who we are.

Shifting Barriers

Barriers can divide us. But they should never define us.

In the summer of 1997, my family took a trip to Washington with my godparents and their son. While we walked the National Mall one late afternoon, my godfather noticed a lost backpack on a park bench.

Since it was the age before cell phones, we took the backpack to our hotel and called the number we found on its ID tag. This allowed us to return the backpack to its rightful owner — a very embarrassed congressional aide.

As a sign of gratitude, the aide arranged a private tour of the U.S. Capitol for us. We took the Congressional Subway from the senate office building to the Capitol itself and got a behind the scenes look at the both chambers of Congress.

Looking back now, 20 years later, this story seems even less real than it did in real time. It would be inconceivable today to pick up a lost backpack from a park bench, let alone bring it back to a hotel in order to locate its rightful owner. And of course, just about no one’s getting a behind-the-scene tour of the Capital these days.

The landscape of this story is frozen in the past, in the same way the old Western tales are eternally tied to a frontier that no longer exists. And while the advancement of technology has certainly played a part in altering our perspective, so have changes in the barriers around us.

***

I have a unique perspective on shifting barriers.

I was born in the fading shadow of the Iron Curtain. The Berlin Wall fell about a month before my second birthday, and the Cold War mentality everyone had lived with for a generation fell with it.

It was a new era. One filled with seemingly endless optimism.

That optimism flowed all the way down to elementary school classrooms. I remember learning about Martin Luther King and the Civil Rights Movement in Kindergarten. Although the March on Washington was already 30 years in the past by then, my teachers kept talking about how the future was brighter than ever. They kept mentioning that there would be more opportunities and fewer barriers in our way.

And this was largely true. There was plenty of prosperity and innovation in America during the 1990s. We had a budget surplus for a while, and we quickly integrated the Internet into our lifestyles. An era barricaded by conflict, fear and distrust crumbled, with friendship and reconciliation filling its void.

It seemed that divisiveness would permanently become a relic of the past. Then the Twin Towers fell.

As I struggled to pick up the pieces after 9/11 — my innocence shattered and my heart broken — I noticed something different going on around me. The barriers our society had spent a decade tearing down started to appear all over the place once again.

These new barriers were evident at airports, border checkpoints and sports arenas, of course. But you could also see them in more subtle areas — such as attitudes toward minorities or reactions to abandoned backpack on a park bench. As an era of suspicion took hold, the cultural connections we’d worked so hard to build faded to grayscale.

Although the initial shock and horror of America’s darkest day soon subsided, it quickly became clear that these new barriers were here for the long haul. I remember checking in for a flight in Rome in 2004, only to notice a military sharpshooter perched overhead. It was a terrifyingly normal sight — one that reflected how an initial fear of terrorism had evolved into a societal norm.

This is not to say there haven’t been some barrier-smashing changes over the past 15 years. The invention of the smartphone and the election of a black president are testament to that. But still, it’s clear that the openness of the 1990s is as much a relic of the past as the toy in the Cracker Jack box.

The tide is most certainly rolling in.

***

This all begs one big question:

Are barriers a bad thing?

Some would say the answer is a unilateral yes. But I’d beg them to reconsider.

You see, barriers do have their benefits. They can give us privacy in our bedrooms and bathrooms. Or keep convicts away from their potential victims. Or help us define which plot of land is ours.

These are all worthy causes for boundaries. Necessary ones for our well-being and survival. After all, there is a saying that goes, “Those who wish to abolish all barriers have never spent a night in the rain.”

Still, the act of building barriers can quickly become dangerous. And our actions over the past decade or so have certainly crossed that threshold.

For in our quest to block out the danger of our world, we’ve been building a wall around our heart. And spreading seeds of deceit and distrust throughout our society.

Those seeds have grown into weeds now. They’re causing the divisiveness, anger and angst running wild through our society. They’re slowly tearing our society apart.

It’s high time that we cut these weeds down.

Let’s take some responsibility for what we’re doing to ourselves.  Let’s unchain our hearts and learn to trust each other again. Let’s accept hope and shun fear.

In short, let’s start building a more open future.

That’s a shift in barriers we can all get behind.

 

Journey or Destination?

Are we there yet?

It’s one of the more cliché images out there: The kid in the back seat of the car asking that question over and over.

This image serves as a maddening reminder — both of the impatience of children and the petulance of adults. For while we might hope our kids will embrace the journey, our actions belie that outcome.

Our society is built off of destinations. We both celebrate and incentivize weddings, graduations and job promotions. We shoot endlessly for notoriety and recognition. We fight as ferociously as lions to achieve, all so we can revel in the spoils of victory.

We pay little attention to the journey we take to get to these destinations; if anything, we consider it a nuisance that delays achievement of our goals.

So why should we expect our young, impressionable children to act any different on a long car ride? Why should we expect anything less than a culture of instant gratification as those children grow up and become Millennials and Gen Z-ers?

We should know better. All we have to do is look in the mirror.

***

Of course, it doesn’t have to be this way. If we can learn to embrace the journey we take to our destination, we’ll have a better example to set. And we’ll get more mileage out of the life we live.

But this requires us to do something terrifying: Stop and reflect.

Instead of only considering the next milestone, we should take a moment to consider where we are at a certain point in time. Then we need consider how we got to that point and how we hope to proceed.

This process will likely make us feel vulnerable; after all, our society has trained us specifically not to feel comfortable with this. But once we scale that mountain of apprehension, we’ll unlock something priceless.

You see, each journey we take tells its own story — one the connects origin and destination. These journeys are rarely linear; there are plenty twists and turns along the way.

And those wrinkles in our path mean everything. The hours of hard work we put in, the bouts of adversity we so bravely face — they help make us stronger, smarter and more determined. They allow us to experience life at its fullest and most real as we shoot for our hopes and dreams. And they make those achievements so much sweeter.

***

We must take the time to connect the dots. To understand that where we’re coming from and where we are matters as much as where we hope to go. To realize that our story is our own, and our journey is its conduit.

Yes, our journey is the key to living a more enlightened life — one that balances a sense of purpose with full awareness of the process that goes into it.

So, the next time you find yourself looking only at your next destination, stop and embrace your path toward it.

The journey matters. Enjoy the ride.

Don’t Punt

When I was a teenager, I spent many a Friday night playing Madden with my friends.

(Madden, for those who don’t know, is a video game simulation of the National Football League.)

And whenever we played, we made sure to follow one particular rule: Don’t Punt.

Why? Because only wimps punt in Madden.

This, of course, is ridiculous. Punting — or dropkicking the ball down the field to pin your opponent close to their own goal line — is an odd quirk of football. But it’s also a strategic one.

In fact, teams with weak offenses and dominant defenses use punting as a strategic advantage — as it can be difficult for opponents to score points when they need to go the length of the football field to it. The 2000 Baltimore Ravens even won a Super Bowl championship with this formula.

But punting is unacceptable in Madden. It’s part of guy code. Which is also the code that demands that a man leave a one urinal buffer between himself and the next guy while relieving himself in a public restroom.

(And yes, I do realize there are plenty of female gamers out there today. But this Madden tradition goes back to when video games were “a guy thing.”)

So, we never punted in Madden. Instead, we gave each other short fields when our offense sputtered. We scored a lot of points. We had a grand old time.

Then, when the game was over, we turned off the console, went to the kitchen and downed glasses of Cola-Cola.

Of course, life’s nothing like Madden. It ain’t a game, it ain’t always fun, and you can’t just turn it off at the end. (It does, however, feature bountiful amounts of Coca-Cola.)

But I do think the Don’t Punt rule should still apply to life.

Why? Because off the gridiron, punting is not a strategic advantage. It’s bailing out, giving up, abandoning ship.

It’s acknowledging that something didn’t work — and cutting all ties with it in that same instant.
I get why people do this. Sometimes it’s just better to have a fresh start than to let a poor experience weigh you down like a boulder.

But still, it’s incredibly shortsighted.

You see, I’m a firm believer that something can be gained from every experience we encounter in our lives. But we have to go out and seize those lessons and that silver lining.

Punting doesn’t allow us to do this. It shuts out an initiative that didn’t go to plan, effectively expunging it from our life story.

While it’s more comfortable for us to face failure this way, punting away our misses leaves a silent trail of collateral damage. All of the effort, time and heart that was poured into an experience is lost forever — and those losses compound over time. This can lead to “Golden Years” pockmarked with emptiness and anchored by regret.

It’s far better to pivot than to punt. Pivoting ensures continuity between one venture and the next. It allows us to build off of our prior experiences — good or bad — and create a future that’s continually vibrant and well informed.

This is a worthy goal to strive for. And all we need to achieve it is the right mindset.

So, when you fail, take a moment. Collect yourself. Then, get up and dust yourself off.

But whatever you do, don’t punt.

The Soundtrack Of Our Lives

The first thing I remember is still clear as day.

I was sitting in my car seat as my parents’ Ford Taurus made the trek up the hill to my first home. The Rolling Stones hit “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” was on the radio.

As the angelic choir faded into the distinctive tones of Mick Jagger, I remember daydreaming about hot air balloons. With voices that light and airy, I could be forgiven for assuming the song was about a balloon ride.

I must have been about a year old.

***

It’s no accident that this is my first memory. Our perspectives and recollections can change over the years, but music is timeless.

Music holds the power of captivation — the distinct ability to enchant and entice. It contains the diversity to both maintain and break with tradition — to connect us with our past or send us soaring into the great unknown.

And much like cuisine, music has its distinct flavor in every corner of the world. But it also has the unmatched power to unite us across cultural and linguistic boundaries.

How can music be this malleable in function? The answer has everything to do with the sensation it invokes in us.

You see, music is bound by the duality of meaning. As with photography and cooking, what the artist intends to convey might not exactly match what we take in. We assign our own connotation, based off of our unique perspective of the world and our experiences in it.

This gives us the freedom to view music anyway we see fit, and for music to serve a multitude of purposes. It inspires the musicians among us to keep the wheel of innovation turning, as they continue crank out material that continues to surprise, delight and inspire us.

It’s what allows us to associate a Rolling Stones song with hot air balloons. Or an Alan Parsons Project instrumental with Michael Jordan. Or whatever the first song is at our wedding with the love of our life.

And ultimately, it’s what transforms music from a jumble of lyrics, rhythms, melodies and harmonies into something far more substantial — the soundtrack to our life story.

***

The power music holds over us comes from emotion.

You see, how music makes us feel deep down inside says everything about its place in our lives. It drives the narrative. For that feeling we get when we hear the right song at the right moment is distinctive. It’s special. It’s ours.

The combination of a piece of music and our emotional response to it makes for powerfully personal storytelling. This is why a single song can tell millions of stories over its lifetime.

A song holds the power to cheer us up or calm us down. It can take us away from reality when we need an escape, or sharpen our focus when the moment calls for it.

Yet, while our reaction to a song might be inherently individual, appreciation for music is one of the strongest bonds we all share.

This is why we’re constantly listening to music in the car, during our workouts or at the grocery store. This is why we pack arenas around the world just to hear our favorite songs live.

This is why music is a universal conversation starter, and why karaoke is a worldwide phenomenon.

Ultimately, this is why music matters to all of us — and always will.

Music is the soundtrack of our lives.

Play on.

The Right Amount of Different

Be Different. But Not Too Different.

These six words are a microcosm of our society.

We inhabit a world that values individuality — to an extent. Some originality is considered noteworthy. Too much is considered rebellious.

This paradox arises from our dueling desires to explore and maintain. We want to test the waters and get outside of our comfort zone. But we won’t dare lose sight of the boat that brought us — or else the current might sweep us away for good.

Why keep one foot on solid ground, instead of diving right in? Because we strive for balance. We simply cannot function properly without it.

This leads to a world of incremental changes. We try and take the monotonous, familiar world we know and gradually put a fresh spin on it. It’s like an adapted recipe, with life as we know it as the base ingredient.

Making your mark can prove challenging in this paradigm. No one is there to tell you where the goalposts are. So, the quest to find the right amount of different can be quite elusive. Play it too safe, and you’ll come off as bland and quiet. Change too much up and you’ll come off as loud and obnoxious.

What can you do to find the sweet spot?

  • Scour the landscape. Take a close look at how things look now. What’s considered normal? Why are things the way they are within an industry or a social group? Don’t hesitate to self-educate. The more you know about the world around you, the more effective you can be at changing it.
  • Consider a derivative. No intensive calculus needed here — just a math mindset. What’s one thing you could change about the world you know in order to make it one degree more efficient and one degree more outstanding? Throwing the status quo out the window and starting over is not an option. Think in terms of small, yet noticeable tweaks.
  • Chart a plan of action. Think about how you will implement the changes you derive. Think of what you will do to communicate these changes in a way that doesn’t upset the apple cart Are you prepared for all outcomes when you let the cat out of the bag?
  • Execute.

Now, you might think this looks a lot like a business plan. You’d be right — and wrong.

You see, business is a microcosm of our societal constructs. Of our need for balance and continual improvement. Of our need to be different, but not too different.

In other words, business mirrors life. Take these steps to find the right amount of different, and you’ll likely see success in both areas.

You’ll improve the world in a culturally acceptable manner. And in the process, you’ll be viewed as remarkable.

These are goals we strive for, whether we admit it or not. The right amount of different makes them possible.

So, what are you waiting for? The process starts now.

Within The Lines

Color within the lines.

It’s one of the earliest things we’re taught. Right around the time we’re first handed a crayon and a coloring book.

The objective: Follow the rules and good results will follow.

This mantra follows us into adulthood. We’re continue to be told that staying above board will lead to a positive outcome.

This carrot and stick routine is a powerful way of maintaining order within society.

It’s also completely bogus.

For as much as we’d like to believe it, life is not a meritocracy. Bad things happen to good people all the time, and the most deserving person doesn’t always reap the reward.

Those with connections or money can cut the line. Conversely, years of good deeds paired with chronic misfortune can leave us with nothing but heartbreak.

Why then, do we insist on coloring within the lines? On not taking the shortcuts and liberties others have gotten away with?

It has everything to do with balance.

You see, if we all decided the rules were not worth our attention, we’d leave ourselves in a very vulnerable state. While we’d have much to gain by putting our own interests first, we’d also lose the blanket of protection that the aura of order implies.

This is a prime reason why bouts of anarchy have been more of a pop-up thunderstorm than a Category 5 hurricane throughout history. We can only accept vulnerability for so long; once the initial jubilation of rebellion subsides, the risk outweighs the reward.

Continually fending off those trying to take advantage of us is stressful and exhausting. It’s far more comfortable to insulate ourselves in a structure that protects us against harm while rewarding us for our compliance.

This is not to say that we’re oblivious to the absurdity of our idealism. By and large, we understand that the world is not, in fact, fair. And we know that a steadfast belief in karma — good or bad — as an equalizer is more wishful thinking than reality.

But it gives us piece of mind to know where the lines are, and what it should mean if we stay on the right side of them.

It also makes us better members of society. After all, if we share a common understanding of the rules, we can commiserate freely without worrying about being stabbed in the back.

Indeed, the ideal of playing by the rules is no fallacy. It’s a necessary construct to provide us with the attributes key to our survival — comfort, protection and social connection.

These are attributes worth fighting for. So, let’s keep striving to color within the lines, even as others leave their crayon marks astray.

Our Double Standard

Few concepts are as taboo as that of the double standard.

Hypocrites in our society might as well wear a scarlet letter. They’ve broken the cardinal rule.

After all, there’s a reason why phrases like Say what you mean, mean what you say or Talk the talk, walk the walk are gospel. We strive to be treated with honesty and respect, and we don’t like having our time wasted with lies and deception.

In an inherently unfair world, these unwritten rules are the closest thing to a pact we’ve got.

So, we might as well continue our credo, right? We might as well eradicate any semblance of double standards that remain?

Not exactly.

I’m actually a proponent of double standards, when it comes to the bar we set for ourselves. That’s the level of excellence we strive to meet as a person, an intellectual and a member of society.

I believe we should set that bar higher for ourselves than our friends, family and loved ones. That we should always demand a higher level of excellence of ourselves while not being too demanding on others.

It creates a chasm of hypocrisy, sure. But a worthwhile one at that.

You see, if we were to raise the bar of expectations for everyone in our circle, we would run the risk of pushing them away. We’d likely come off as cold and demanding — two terms that are not exactly conducive for social interaction.

We don’t make friends, associate with family members or fall in love with our soulmate in order to demand more out of them. No, we interact with these people so that we can just be. We strive to soak up life’s moments with them, rather than asking more of them at all times.

We might not agree with everything those in our circle say or do. But for the most part, we understand that they’re fine the way they are; that’s what drew us to associate with them in the first place.

When it comes to ourselves though, change is always needed. We can always do more to fix our flaws, expand our knowledge base and improve our relationship with those we care about. Taking the view that we’re fine the way we are is dangerous, as it short circuits this mission.

So, we’re obligated to set the bar higher for ourselves. And when we reach that bar, we’re obligated to set it even higher — or else we risk getting stuck in the mud.

This all sets up a new kind of double standard — on built on honesty and truth. We’re staying true to ourselves by demanding continually increasing excellence, and staying true to the members our circle by not forgetting what it is that brought them into the fold.

There’s a balance in this setup, one between changing and maintaining. A balance worth standing behind.

So, let’s pursue this double standard in lieu of the others. It’s a win-win.

Sharing the Burden

It’s not you. It’s me.

We’ve heard this cliché line again and again. And we know it means bad news.

Regardless whether these words come during a breakup or the breakdown of a business partnership, they effectively mean, “It’s over.”

Or, more accurately, “It’s over ‘cause I said it’s over. You had no hand in the decision.”

What a load of bull.

Of course, the other party had a hand in the decision, whether they know it or not. And pretending to fall on one’s sword over who’s to blame only serves to paint that other party as the villain.

It’s a twisted bit of guilt-tripping that paints a gray world as black and white.

Here’s the truth: If it takes two to make a thing go right, it takes two to make a thing go wrong as well. Partnerships are a shared burden. And when things break down beyond repair, both parties are culpable for letting go of that burden.

Now, this is not to say that all blame gets split 50-50. There are times in any partnership where one half of the equation might not act in good faith. Spouses might cheat, business partners might act fraudulently and friends might make selfish choices. In these instances, the blame for these actions fall on the offending parties alone.

Forgiveness could understandably be fleeting in times like these, as the moral ground has clearly been tilted. But if these feelings of tension and anger lead to the end of a partnership, the blame goes both ways.

For the fact remains that both parties once agreed to enter into that partnership in good faith. The dissolution of that partnership — justified or not — is the very definition of bad faith.

In the wake of this decision, the hoodwinked party should not be considered a victim. Instead, they’re guilty of dealing themselves a bad hand — even if 20-20 Hindsight is the only way they could know it. And they will ultimately have to pay the price for the decision they made — a price that will manifest itself in the ashes and scars of a once-promising agreement that goes down in flames.

So, don’t be fooled: There are no winners when a partnership breaks down. The responsibility weighs heavy, and both parties are eternally beholden to sharing the burden. Punting or posturing will only get them crushed in the end.

Put “It’s not you. It’s me” out of your mind. The only word that matters is us.

The Double Edge of Virality

Virality is in.

What was once 15 Minutes of Fame is now something far more timeless.

Ever since the early days of YouTube, making it big on the Internet has meant instant recognition. Today, it’s an obsession.

We can’t help ourselves. We want to be known, to be popular. It only takes one lasting visual —one that’s accessible by billions of people in an instant — for us to achieve that goal.

So, we trip over ourselves to star in creative moments. We do outlandish and embarrassing things on camera to build our global name. We master the art of the Meme and the GIF — two terms only geeks knew of 15 years ago — in order to plaster our face on them in head-turning ways.

Since virality is our golden ticket to instant stardom, sacrificing our dignity for an eternity in the sun seems worthwhile.

But it cuts both ways. Are we really ready to live with that double edge?

I’m not talking about the consequences of being eternally known as the person who screwed up an exercise ball trick. Or as one of the soldiers who gave a monkey a loaded AK-47. (For the love of God, do not try this. Ever.)

Those infamous videos are the result of poor decisions. As far as I’m concerned, the people who humiliated themselves in them can reap what they sow.

No, I’m talking about the Pandora’s Box our viral obsession unleashes.

You see, our continual quest to stoke our ego has turned virality into an untamed beast. We can now go viral at any time, even when we’re not looking to. And if we’re caught in a moment of misfortune with cameras rolling, we could end up wearing that unwanted humiliation like a scarlet letter for the rest of our lives.

Consider Dr. David Dao. If you don’t recognize that name, you’re part of the problem. Dr. Dao is the man you saw being yanked out of his seat and violently dragged off of a United Airlines plane so that other extra airline employees could take his seat. You saw it because another passenger posted a harrowing video of the ordeal on Twitter, a video that immediately went viral.

This incident led to universal outrage. United’s stock prices took a beating, and they stand to lose hundreds of millions of dollars in future business because of their tarnished reputation. The longstanding procedure of overbooking flights — by both United and its rival airlines — has also come into question.

But, do you know what wasn’t discussed? How all of this would affect Dr. Dao.

Sure, there were the musings of how much money he would stand to gain from an upcoming lawsuit against United Airlines. There was the press conference, where Dao’s lawyer claimed Dao was more terrified as he was being dragged off that flight in Chicago than he was when he fled Saigon in 1975. There was some journalistic muckraking in regards to his troubled past.

What there wasn’t was compassion for the man’s predicament as a victim of virality.

Now, maybe I’m more empathetic than most, but I feel that’s not right. No amount of money from United’s coffers will ever reconcile Dr. Dao’s unwanted moment of fame. He will be known for the rest of the life as the bloodied man being dragged down the aisle of a plane by airport police as passengers watch in horror.

His chances of making a more dignified name for himself are ruined.

Dr. Dao most assuredly didn’t want any of this. He just wanted to make it back to Louisville and get on with his life.

Thanks to a callous bout of misfortune, a smartphone video camera and a societal thirst for virality, he will never have that chance.

That’s a damned shame.

So, let this be a lesson. One that teaches us to be cognizant of the cost of our viral obsession. One that illustrates the point that virality can not only improve lives, but also ruin them.

For while it’s easier than ever for us to connect and build a name for ourselves in the era we live in, we must understand that this rising tide does not lift all boats.

Proceed with caution.