Category: Thoughts

The Golden Narrative

As the summer winds down, we once again find ourselves captivated by the Olympic Games. Against the stunning backdrop of Rio, we’ve watched the grace of gymnasts, the dominance of swimmers, the pure speed of sprinters — and so much more.

But it’s not the athletic feats that pique our interests, or even the superstars who perform them. No, it’s something far greater, yet so fundamental, that draws us in.

Stories.

Yes, narrative envelops the games, from start to finish. Broadcasters focus their coverage on it, athletes live it, and the world discusses it long after the Olympic flame stops burning.

Narrative defines the road the athletes take to reach the world’s pinnacle event. It helps define these competitors as more than the flag they represent. It helps show that even when achieving world record athletic feats, these athletic stars are just as human as the rest of us.

Narrative weaves the emotional components of these competitors’ journeys throughout the games as well. Swagger, revenge, grace, power, agility, adversity, resurgence, dominance and sportsmanship are just some of the ingredients that can be mixed into a juicy storyline.

And narrative is what makes a limited-run event live on forever. While the Summer Olympics occur as frequently as our presidential elections, they have an uncanny ability to resonate for eternity.

I’ll never forget the first Olympics I watched — the 1996 games in Atlanta. I was only 8 years old at the time, but moments from those games will stay with me for life. Moments like a Parkinson’s stricken Muhammad Ali lighting the caldron in the opening ceremony. Moments like Kerri Strug sticking the landing on an injured ankle to help lead the U.S. women’s gymnastics team to their first gold medal — on home soil, no less.

These moments are powerful because of the narrative. With the world watching, stories are told, adversity is overcome, and legends are forged. A moderately significant event — such as the lighting of a torch or the execution of a gymnastics vault — becomes timeless.

We should never lose sight of the power of the Olympic narrative. We should always remember that stories are the force that connects the world and allow it to overcome.

Let’s continue to share our narrative. Let’s use the power of the story to transcend borders and cultures for a common good. That’s the real meaning of Going for Gold.

The Art of Letting Go

Keep it or throw it out?

It’s not quite Shakespearean prose, but I reckon I’ve heard it more often than any line from Hamlet — from the voice in my head alone.

This time, the words were my mother’s. My parents are in the putting their house on the market, and part of that process includes cleaning out 26 years of assorted items. Even though I left the nest more than a decade ago, plenty of mementos from my childhood and adolescence stayed behind— which is why I got daily “Keep It or Chuck It” messages as my parents sorted through everything this summer.

With a few notable exceptions, the answer has always been the same:

Get rid of it.

***

It hasn’t always been this way. In fact, it rarely has.

Long before hoarders were immortalized on TV shows, I was on a mission — a mission to keep anything and everything. But I didn’t want to make a mess, so I would stuff cabinets, closets and out-of-sight storage spaces with piles of things I wanted to hold on to.

There were two reasons I obsessive took this approach. First, I wanted to preserve memories in a visible way. Second, I loathed the mental image of anything I’d bought or created wasting away in a landfill.

These sentiments are fine on a small scale — this is how scrapbooking and recycling came to be. The problem was that I felt this way about everything.

It started with physical items, but my mission quickly degraded my relationships with family and friends. I was constantly adding on, saving memories, maintaining everything I had accumulated.

I was afraid of letting go. And I was suffering because of it.

***

Letting go is an undervalued part of life. It’s something we all must do — after all, we don’t live forever — but it’s also something we try and avoid in our everyday lives. Breaking up is brutal, losing touch is unbecoming, and getting fired indicates failure. Our memories are the only part of the past we take with us to the present; those we share those memories with serve as the bridge between the two worlds.

So we hold on, incessantly. We become sentimental. We fixate on the past.

We cling to every detail of How It Was, so it can serve as the foundation for How It Is.

But all we’re really building is a burden. A bigger footprint, more items to keep track of, more meaningless details to weigh down our mind.

We must stop this madness.

***

If the past informs the present, and the present informs the future, we must move on from anything that doesn’t move us forward. We must master the art of letting go.

We must rid ourselves of the static. Let go of all the memories that leave us lost in Yesterday without a ticket back to the Here and Now.

We must move on from the mementos that don’t tell a story, or those we can’t tell a story from; they alone tell us nothing.

For growth guides us down the current of life; we can’t afford to be anchored in place by a fear of letting go. We must free ourselves and live unburdened.

The Key to Happiness

What makes you happiest?

There are few questions that bring out our individuality more than that one.

Some people might mention a beach vacation, or watching their favorite sports team win the championship. Others might mention gifts they’ve received, or time spent with their significant other.

My answer is a bit more complex: When the people I care about are happy, so am I.

I know that might sound like a bit strange, so let me explain.

Happiness, like many other emotions, tends to skew personal. This means that what makes us the happiest are often things we individually stand to gain from.

This fact, by itself, is not terribly dispiriting —after all, the saying goes, “Tis better to have than to have not.” But prolems arise when those personal gains that bring us happiness come at the expense of others.

Happy you got the job offer? Plenty of other candidates got a rejection email. On Cloud 9 cause your favorite team won the title? Fans of the other team are in agony.

These considerations don’t often cross our minds in moments of bliss, but they should. For when we don’t approach joy with empathy, we’re often left feeling hollow and even depressed once the elation wears off.

The good news is that empathy can be built. It just takes commitment to a perspective of selflessness.

I know this statement to be true because I’ve lived it.

As a kid, I felt happiest when opportunities and experiences in my life directly benefited me. It was a primitive, ugly way to view my interactions with the world — one that left me prone to mood swings when my personal needs and desires weren’t being addressed.

Luckily, I was able to evolve out of this pattern. I had the good fortune of being surrounded by many selfless, empathetic people throughout adolescence and early adulthood. Those values rubbed off on me — particularly as I exposed myself to a great amount of adversity on account of my life decisions.

I learned quickly just how fulfilling putting others first can feel. How putting their feelings ahead of mine could build an emotional connection with them and simultaneously allow me to approach the ebbs and flows of my personal life with a steady mind.

This focus on empathy made me feel wholesome and empowered. I could celebrate the successes of my friends and family right along with them, and truly be there to help them through the hard times. I could shake off the disappointment of being passed up for a certain opportunity by feeling genuine happiness for the person who did — even if I didn’t know them personally.

Empathy has helped me grow, and it’s become a staple of who I am.

But more than that, genuine empathy is key to unlocking true happiness. Pursue it wholeheartedly, and you stand to benefit more fully than you could ever imagine.

Attention or Desire?

Do I want to be an object of attention or desire?

This is a decision we all must make in our lives.

Sure, it sounds like a dilemma that a Victoria’s Secret model might have, but let’s be clear. Attention and desire are words with expansive power and meaning; the sexual realms of our lives shouldn’t have a monopoly over them.

For when it comes to our lives, the choice between attention and desire can make all the difference.

All too often, we set our sights on attention. Attention is what gets us noticed, what gets us famous. Attention is what builds our legion of followers on social media and what keeps us relevant in a culture that moves faster than whitewater rapids. Attention builds relevance and brand awareness, for both or professional ventures and our personal brand. (This Kmart ad is a great example.)

Heck, attention might be what drew you to this article.

Attention seems like a good way forward. It’s easy, it’s productive and it helps us grow our egos. In the increasingly individualistic world we live in, it can seem to have everything we would ever want.

But, attention is a smoke screen. It’s just noise — a lot of noise. He or she who shouts the loudest, who makes the biggest disruption — that’s the person who gets noticed. This is the reason our election season seems like reality TV, why Kardashians and Hiltons hog the actual reality TV limelight and why Nike shoes are now bright yellow.

It’s all part of the show.

And when the show’s over, when it packs up and leaves town, we don’t remember much of it. We’re on to the next big thing, the next attraction.

This is not a sustainable way to build our lives, either personally or professionally. Attention might get us a date, a job interview, a client. But that’s only part of the story.

Attention can get you to the door, desire will get you through it.

Desire is what makes us memorable, what makes us irresistible. It builds a unique, personal connection — one that’s often mutually beneficial. While attention may draw our eye, desire tugs at our heart.

But desire is difficult to attain. To achieve it, we must be consistently display authenticity, aptitude, confidence, empathy and uniqueness. We must stay true to ourselves while being aware of the message we portray to those around us. We must be aware of the needs of others, and how our qualities align with those needs. We must be collectivist, yet individualistic.

It’s a complicated equation — one that’s nearly impossible to fake.

As a search marketer, I think about the challenge of desirability often. Traditionally, my industry has been full of people trying to help their clients gain attention from search engines by whatever means necessary — as visibility meant revenue. However, Google and Bing have gradually made gaming the system nearly impossible. Today, a company or brand must prove itself to be desirable — both to web users and search engines — in order to be visible online. It’s a steep challenge, but one that can pay lasting dividends for everyone if it’s pulled off right.

If desire can make such a big difference in the world of search, shouldn’t we be expanding it to the world at large? Shouldn’t we focus our efforts on evolving, caring, being selfless? Shouldn’t we focus on sharing a conversation with others, instead of shouting through a bullhorn? Shouldn’t we take some time to consider how we fit in, instead of solely perfecting ways to stand out?

Of course we should. And some of us — myself included — have already set our sights on these goals. Some, but not enough of us.

It’s time for that to change.

Let’s focus on what’s tangible over what’s shiny. Let’s focus on forming a personal connection instead of attaining widespread notoriety.

Let’s choose desire over attention. Our continued success relies on it.

Avoiding the Mob

I am no trendsetter.

It took me 4 years to get my first iPhone. I still don’t willingly take selfies. And the next Uber ride I take will be my first.

Yes, I’m old school — a fact that makes my life difficult when I’m trying to buy Nike sneakers that don’t look like a Smurf vomited all over them or a t-shirt that doesn’t belong on Jersey Shore. I choose text messaging over Snapchat, cable over cord-cutting and the gym over a Gluten-free diet.

Why do I live according to the way it was, instead of the way it is? It ain’t for the money; if I’d cut out cable, I might have actually saved me quite a few bucks. It ain’t in honor of Scrooge; it’s too warm to be going around yelling “Bah, Humbug.”

No, it’s because I want to avoid the mob.

Not the Corleone family. The throngs of people losing their minds over the next big trend.

Trendhopping is the national pastime of Millennials — a group I grudgingly am lumped in with by age association alone. It’s how we ended up with Snapchat, Tinder and nonsensical analogies like “Netflix and Chill” (c’mon y’all, it’s barely got anything to do with either one).

Now, trendiness is nothing new. It’s how culture has moved forward over the years (or, in some cases, backward). But it’s a whole new ballgame today. The Internet now allows trends to go viral almost instantaneously, with a vocal Millennial core ready and willing to aggressively usher society into compliance with it.

Look at the recent Pokemon Go craze. In a matter of days, it went from being something outside the realm of our wildest imagination to an activity seemingly everyone was doing.

Much like Evangelicals, Pokemon Go fans boisterously extolled the virtues of the game (“Now the Pokemon craze can cross the generation gap!” “Now we have an excuse to be active and play outside again!.”) while drowning out any concerns raised by the few not playing (including a massive drain on phone battery life and the negative repercussions of continually burying one’s head in a screen while in a public forum).

As a marketer, I find Pokemon Go appealing, even though I’ve never played any form of Pokemon. The combination of a universally accessible product, generation-gapping nostalgia and instant superfans was a home run for Nintendo.

That said, I find mob mentality around the game to be gravely concerning. For even though a fired up fan base obsessed over the next big thing might see no harm in trying to spread the word to the masses like religious zealots, this type of aggressive peer pressure threatens our diversity of thoughts, actions and beliefs. It makes our society homogeneous, and not far removed from our enemies.

“Preposterous!” these evangelical fans might say. “For the platforms, games and technologies we’re pushing are for good, not for evil.”

But the notions of good and evil are subjective. Most God-fearing people have a good grasp as to which actions belong to each quality, but that perspective can be easily manipulated. And if twisted ideals are indoctrinated into a zealous mob of supporters, unspeakable horrors can commence.

Now, I’m not suggesting that the rise of trends like Pokemon Go will turn America into another Axis of Evil, but I can see some unsettling parallels. The continuous rally to get people to join in the craze because “it’s what everyone’s doing” and the lack of regard given to conscientious objectors within the game’s considerably large path are frighteningly similar to the behaviors of authoritarian societies.

I bring this up because the issues the mob of Pokemon Go supporters drown out are actually quite significant — particularly since the game is played in the realm of the real world. There are already multiple reports of people gathering in public parks at dusk to “go hunting,” kids walking through busy neighborhood streets looking for Pokemon and teenagers blindly following their phones into private property — all ill-advised, dangerous ideas. I’ve venheard of an armed robbery facilitated by the game, as well as a serious car-pedestrian crash.

Yet, even in the face of such significant imperfections, supporters of the Pokemon Go trend are all too willing to sweep these issues under the rug — which only serves to lead countless other players into the path of danger. The mob mentality strikes again.

This behavior must end.

We must respect the voices of those who spend their days avoiding the mob. Whether we’re discussing politics, sports or Pokemon Go, we must leave a place for opposing viewpoints. Dissent is not insubordination in a democracy; if anything, it builds tools that can vastly improve the cause the majority is trumpeting. If Pokemon Go fanatics had listened to dissent, we wouldn’t have people falling off ledges trying to “Catch Em All.” The game would be better, and far safer.

So hop on that latest trend. Play Pokemon Go. Buy that new smartphone. Watch the show everyone’s talking about.

But be respectful of dissent. Don’t join the mob.

The Power of Being Present

Growing up, I watched a fair amount of college football games on fall Saturdays. Each season, my beloved Miami Hurricanes would face off against the Virginia Tech Hokies, and the broadcasters would invariably talk about The Lunch Pail — a symbol the vaunted Hokie defense rallied around time and again.

The Lunch Pail was nothing flashy — a small hard-case container painted in the signature maroon and orange colors of Virginia Tech. But that was the point. It was there, every day — a tangible symbol of persistence. Likewise, the Hokies would always be a tough opponent — what they lacked in world-class athleticism, they made up for with pure effort and heart.

While I consistently pulled for my eventual alma mater in these matchups, I gained a great deal of respect for the Virginia Tech Hokies over the years, and learned a lot about the blue collar work ethic in the process. Funny as it sounds, watching football games on ABC on weekends gave me valuable insight I couldn’t get in the classroom.

Skills are important, but so is the fortitude to be present. The will to persistently devote your time and effort to something you believe in.

Along the winding road to adulthood, my vocation, home address and interests have all changed — multiple times. But one thing has stayed consistent — my devotion to all that I pursue. This persistence has allowed me to thrive in my various career positions over the years, and to build a life.

It didn’t take magic or luck for me to get where I am now; it took the proverbial blood, sweat and tears.

That said, sometimes, I feel as if I’m a relic from the past.

Lifehacking has become a central part of Millennial culture these days — a societal quest to cut the chaff and make everything from cooking dinner to completing your job responsibilities faster and more efficient. The corporate world has embraced this mantra with open arms (ostensibly for the promise of leaner payrolls and overhead), with one search marketing superagency even adopting the mantra “Work Smarter, Not Harder.”

In a matter of years, we’ve developed an extreme allergy to the grind.

Look, I get it. If only 20 percent of our work time is productive, it makes sense to focus on our money moments. If we can cut tedium and monotony out of our personal lives, we’ll enjoy ourselves that much more.

But at what point does cutting the chaff turn into cutting corners?

Wholesome success can’t be achieved in the time it takes to order a Big Mac. It requires persistent vigilance. It requires long-term focus. It requires being there, time and again.

We can’t hack our future with one swing of the chisel. We must strategically and consistently knock away small pieces of the stone to sculpt our destiny.

Make no mistake, there is substance in that Lunch Pail. There is power in being present.

The key is not to get started, but to keep going.

Will you?

Strength in Adversity

There are many qualities we look at when classifying others. Social skills, personality, smarts, looks — these come to mind instantly. A far more uncommon consideration — at least outside the niche of job interviews — is resilience.

Yet, it just might be our ultimate defining quality.

Think about it.

When things are going well, we’re in control of our lifestyle. We get into our comfort zone, things work out for us, and we have the ability to project those good vibes towards others. This is the warm, fuzzy zone where the theory of Being Our Best Self comes from.

But life is more than just sunshine and rainbows. It’s storm clouds too.

There are times in all of our lives when we find ourselves in adverse situations, when things don’t go our way. And it brings up questions.

How do we respond? Which vibes do we project in these moments? What do we take from the experience?

The answers can be telling.

This is why I pay close attention to how the people I’m acquainted with handle adversity — and why I’m sure others pay close attention to how I handle tough times.

***

It takes internal fortitude to get through adversity. I recognize this much better now than I did earlier in life.

Growing up, I was resistant to change, and I didn’t respond well when things didn’t go my way. I wasn’t much of a risk-taker, and I planned things out in my mind well ahead of time; that way, life could be predictable and within my comfort zone as much as possible.

But then, things changed.

In the past decade, I’ve moved to a new city three times — each time, hardly knowing a soul in the place God had led me to. The first move was a comfortable one — I was on a college campus with a bunch of other freshmen, and I made friends quickly.

The second move was far different — out to the West Texas desert, and the real world. A world where being simply being new in the neighborhood built no bridges to the surrounding community.

I remember the afternoon my dad left town after getting me settled. I went back to my new apartment, lay down on my new futon in the living room — and slept for 10 hours. Then, I went to my bedroom and slept for 8 more.

I was so lonely and scared, I didn’t want to wake up.

In that moment of extreme adversity, I gave myself a mental pep talk.

This is not who you are. Go out and be yourself.

Those words got me out of my apartment that day. No matter how apprehensive I felt inside, I was going to prove to the world — and myself —that I was exactly the same person I always had been.

I learned a lot from that experience, which is why I keep it in the back of my mind. Those lessons have come in handy many times, including during my move to the Dallas area and subsequent career change.

***

While I don’t expect others to face so many adverse situations in their lives — or to willingly put themselves in those situations, as I did — I would advise those who come across adversity to stay consistent and true to themselves. It’s also important to use the lessons from that experience productively moving forward.

For there will always be more moments of adversity down the road. Moments when it pays to heed the following words.

Show me adversity. I’ll show you strength.

A Foundation of Trust

What’s the most precious thing in life?

Some might say life itself, or love. And they’re right, in a way.

But I think there’s one clear answer, that stands tall among the rest.

Trust.

You see, trust is one of the most difficult sensations to describe, yet one of the most encompassing. It provides us with a sense of security, and its absence can literally destroy our health.

Trust is one of the most difficult things to attain. (Heck, we often don’t trust ourselves, or our ability to trust others.) And if trust is earned and broken, it’s nearly impossible to regain.

Trust allows us to share secrets, to step on the roller coaster, to pay attention to our teachers. Lack of trust is why we lock our doors at night, why we scour Web MD every time we have a slight headache, why the thought of someone else driving our car for the first time gives us angst.

Trust is what draws us to our routine, or allows us to stray from our routine.

If you’re looking for a common theme in all this, well — there are two.

Trust is about protection, but also about control.

These feelings are at the heart of human nature, which is why trust is the Holy Grail of all commodities.

So yes, trust is precious — and increasingly scarce.

As bad things happen in our increasingly connected society, we become inherently suspicious. Trust erodes, tensions flare — and more bad things happen as a result.

But there’s an alternate ending to this narrative. One that — surprise, surprise — relies on our collective ability to trust.

If we get to know our neighbors, or at least give them the benefit of the doubt, we can set a common foundation. A foundation of trust.

With this foundation in place, we can more productively respond to the crises our society faces with one voice. A voice of multiple perspectives, but of unified purpose. A voice free of the divisive seeds of deceit.

Now, this process ain’t easy; the important ones hardly ever are. But it is necessary.

For while we may never leave our doors unlocked, we should be able to unlock our hearts.

Why I Abolished Hate

There was a time when I used the word hate.

It was generally in the context of a sports nemesis or a food I didn’t particularly care for. At times, hate would describe a thoroughly miserable activity, or my feelings about history’s most twisted despots.

Hate was a brief, yet definitive word — four letters with the bold power of a Chuck Norris roundhouse. It aroused emotion, displayed conviction, and demonstrated an uncommon strength of descriptive purpose.

It was the perfect word to describe, say, the Florida State Seminoles — the archrivals of my beloved Miami Hurricanes. Every time their fans celebrated a touchdown during my time in college — regardless of the opponent — I would feel sick to my stomach.

Hate remained in my lexicon into adulthood. If something really upset me, that four letter word became my go-to descriptor as I rehashed the incident over late night drinks with friends.

But recently, I realized the error of my ways, and I decided to make a change.

Now, hate is no longer in my vocabulary.

***

You see, hate is like gasoline. It boldly fuels any discussion it’s injected into — and it can quickly burn out of control.

When we say we hate something, we wish ill will upon it. Worse still, we wish pain and suffering upon it. The more we fixate our mind on these desires, the more dangerous they become.

Eventually hate can consume us, to the point where we become unbalanced and irrational. It’s at this point that those blinded by hate can cross the line from desiring the suffering of others to actually delivering it — causing shock, horror, pain and even more hate.

It’s a devastating, destructive cycle.

***

In the wake of the deadliest shooting in our nation’s history —one where someone used his contempt to deprive dozens of people of the most fundamental and precious thing they had — it’s time we think about the ramifications of hate.

The aggression, the senseless tragedy hate brings about — it’s simply unacceptable.

And it’s something we can prevent — by ridding ourselves of the sentiment in the first place.

We may not always identify with each other — I don’t personally identify with the LGBT community, the black community or the community of Florida State Seminole fans, for example — but we can still accept each other through our differences. We can at least find common ground there. We can, and we must.

This is why I abolished hate. This is why I sternly remind others that hate is a strong word whenever I hear them using it.

But it can’t start and end with just me. Everyone needs to pitch in.

We must abolish hate. Our future depends on it.

Slowing the Pace

“Time…why you punish me?”

Those lyrics from Hootie & the Blowfish hit the radio about two decades ago, but it seems they were far ahead of their time.

We live our lives at a breakneck pace today — the result of both innovation and the shifting of cultural norms. With the Internet in our pockets and with TV screens we can control with our voice, our days are now made up of hundreds of moments — Micromoments, as Google calls them. Attention is a precious commodity that mass media, marketing and entertainment professionals work tirelessly to capture; Attention Deficit Disorder has gone from a diagnosable problem to an acceptable condition.

To paraphrase Queen, “We want it all, and we want it now.”

But in the race to jam pack our lives with as much as we can, we’re leaving something valuable in the dust.

Meaningfulness.

Our development, both individually and as a society, depends on our ability to interpret meaning in what we do. This important process is a deliberate one, one that can’t be squeezed into the 24/7 circus we put ourselves through these days.

Simply put, the last viral thing we watched, the last rapid-fire experience we took on — it won’t resonate with us for long. Heck, we might not even remember it tomorrow.

So, while the modern-day lifestyle habits satiate our childish needs for “more, more, more” — and keep us away from the cultural stigma of FOMO — they also suffocate our ability to unpack what we expose ourselves to and use that newfound knowledge in a productive manner.

Without meaningfulness, we’re less balanced, less empowered, less smart. The race to the bottom intensifies.

But we can end this self-deprecating cycle.

It’s time we slow down the pace.

It’s time we take a moment to think, to fully digest all that we experience.

It’s time we consider the impact of what we do, and whether there is one in the first place.

It’s time we embrace moments of silent thought, enjoying the life unplugged the way we did in the days when the Macarena was a hit.

It’s time we commit ourselves to the pursuits that matter.

Only after we find this balance of pace and infotainment access will the world truly be at our fingertips.