Tag: action

In on the Action

As I walked through the grocery store, something caught me off-guard.

The usual brands were front and center in the hard seltzer aisle as I passed it by — Budweiser and Truly and White Claw. But so was Sonic. And there were boxes of Topo Chico Hard Seltzer all over the place.

Now, I’m not a drinker, but I know enough to be perplexed. After all, Sonic is a family-friendly drive-in chain — not a distiller. And Topo Chico? That’s my favorite brand of mineral water — more of a North American Perrier than an Anheuser Busch.

What were these brands all doing masquerading as purveyors of hard seltzer? Heck, what was so special about hard seltzer in the first place?

I found few answers. But as it turned out, I might not have been asking the right questions.

I’m not the oldest book on the shelf. But when I see the younger generation, I feel ancient.

These days, toddlers spend long car trips playing games on digital tablets. Children upload and share videos on their phones. And teenagers use strange slang — like Bae, Turnt and On Fleek.

When I was young, none of this was possible. We’d spend car rides listening to CDs or even cassette tapes. The Internet was slow, laggy, and only available on computers. And the most exotic slang we used was the word Dope.

Yes, much has changed over the years. And as our habits have evolved, so have the products we’ve used and the businesses we’ve frequented.

For example, oil and gas companies had the highest valuations on Wall Street when I was a kid. Their power was solidified through an empire of drilling wells, refineries, and gas stations. And even those of us who were too young to drive recognized their influence, thanks to the branded toy trucks we got as gifts around the holidays each year.

Now, it’s tech companies topping the Fortune 500. Tech companies that either weren’t around in my youth or that were struggling for survival back then. And as they soar, those once-powerful oil and gas companies fade, suffocating under their own antiquity.

The common thread? Money talks and people walk. In a capitalist society, dominance can ultimately be fleeting. Getting in on the action with the next big thing is critical.

That mantra is what led Sonic and Topo Chico into the hard seltzer aisle at my grocery store. But were these moves necessary?

Football can be a chaotic sport.

Gigantic athletes outfitted in shoulder pads and helmets collide with each other dozens of times per game. Quarterbacks make ridiculous throws to their receivers while running for their lives. And on kickoffs and punts, the two teams charge at each other with full heads of steam.

But no action on the gridiron is more chaotic than the fumble.

When a player loses the ball, it falls to the ground with a thud. Suddenly a massive dogpile emerges on top of the ball, with players pushing and shoving to recover it. These scrums are not particularly enjoyable to look at, but they’re ultimately consequential in the game.

Whenever a new trend, technology, or product emerges in society, businesses treat it like it’s a fumble recovery. There’s a mad scramble for position, with little planning or organization behind it.

Eventually the dust settles, and a winner emerges from the pile. And the rest of the pack? They emerge bloodied, bruised, and emptyhanded.

The costs of this failure can be especially profound. Football players can bank on the opportunity the next play will bring. But businesses who come up short after betting it all? They’re toast.

This outcome might seem tragic, but it’s exactly how the powerhouse of American business came to be. There were dozens of soda purveyors in the 19th century. Only Coca-Cola, Pepsi, and Dr Pepper ultimately stood the test of time. The same pattern played out for automakers, entertainment studios, and smartphone providers. Where some have survived, many others have failed.

To some degree, this survival of the fittest is now taking shape in the hard seltzer world. As the spiked beverage gains acclaim, plenty of companies are vying for those consumer dollars.

But this time, it’s not just brewers and distillers getting in on the action. Players from outside the sector have entered the game. Players like Sonic or Topo Chico.

Because of all this, it’s pure chaos in the hard seltzer aisle these days. But eventually, the dust will settle, and someone will emerge with the football. Everyone else will fade away.

If Sonic and Topo Chico end up in the everyone else category, the financial implications will be bearable. Families will still frequent Sonic for drive-in dinners. Teetotalers and designated drivers will still drink their weight in Topo Chico sparkling mineral water. Business will go on as it did before.

But their brands will be tarnished in the process. They will be ridiculed for veering too far out of their lane. They will be mocked for rushing to get in on the action — even when it made no sense to do so.

And this criticism? It will be justified.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with reinvention.

Reinvention is what took Apple from a computer company to the multifaceted tech provider we now know it as today. Reinvention is what transformed Scott Harrison from a nightclub promoter into the founder of a groundbreaking charity. Reinvention is what allowed me to leave a budding journalism career and find a foothold in the marketing world.

Reinvention can be a beautiful thing. It can help us shine brighter.

But only if we approach it with purpose.

Apple had an existential purpose behind its reinvention. So did Scott Harrison. And so did I, even though it took me years to uncover it.

But Sonic and Topo Chico? They have no existential purpose behind their reinventions. They’re just jumping on the dogpile and blindly hoping they come away with the football.

Don’t follow their lead. Don’t transform yourself into something else just to be in on the action. All you will find on that path is delusion.

In business and in life, it’s best to be true. True to yourself. True to your values. True to your purpose.

As we head into a time of renewal and transformation, take heed of that. Focus not on the scrum on the periphery. Let your heart and your head be your North Star.

That’s the action you must get in on to thrive.

Tip Of The Spear

I was ready for action.

I was in first grade, preparing for a soccer game in gym class.

One of our teachers — a man from Kenya — was serving as our coach. But there weren’t enough students to field full sides, so he and another teacher joined in the game.

I had never played soccer before, so I was slotted on defense. My job was to stay on one side of the goal — an open space marked by two construction cones — and get in the way of any attacks by the opposing players. There were no goalies, so the two defenders were the last line of protection.

As he gave me my assignment, the coach looked me directly in the eye.

One more thing, he said. Use only your feet. Do not use your hands.

I headed to my position, growing ever more nervous by the step. I wasn’t accustomed to doing everything with my feet. What if instinct set in, and I used my hands? What kind of trouble would I be in then?

Those fears quickly subsided as the game got underway. Ahead of me, the midfielders and forwards abandoned their positions, converging in a pack around the ball. The coach and the other teacher were in the fray too, with eager 7-year-olds flanking them on all sides in the midfield.

Back by the orange construction cones, I stood at my position, bored to tears. Instead of playing soccer, I seemed to be watching it.

That scrum of activity 20 feet ahead of me seemed to be where the action was. I wanted to be a part of it.

So I ran forward, intent on getting to the ball. But just as I got there, someone on the other team found a lane toward our goal.

I ran back toward my position, but I was a good five steps behind this player. Unimpeded, they took their shot — only to be foiled by the other defender, who was still in position.

Hey, the defender told me. Stay here! This is why we’re supposed to stay back here.

I nodded sheepishly and stayed in my position for the rest of the game.

 

There is a phrase in the military called Tip of the Spear.

It refers to the first units to enter a war zone. To the professionals who are closest to the action.

There is a certain aura around this term.

The tip of the spear is the strongest and sharpest part of the weapon. It’s indispensable.

Much like the actual weapon edge, the soldiers, sailors and pilots worthy of this description are battle-tested. They have a perspective that is as unique as it is invaluable.

The term is so poignant that it’s made its way into the civilian world in which I operate.

Even beyond the military, those at the tip of the spear are lionized as innovators and world-changers. They’re action-oriented and decisive. They represent the objective we should aspire toward.

These trailblazers have influenced many of us over the years. Myself included.

As a child, I often heard the question What do you want to be when you grow up? Like many kids, I had no idea. So I would vary my answers.

A firefighter. An astronaut. A truck driver. A baseball player. A movie director.

Looking back, these answers look as disparate as they were desperate. Some of these careers would be hard to break into. Others wouldn’t pay all that well, or would include a demanding schedule.

But these varying career aspirations had one thing in common. They would all allow me to be at the tip of the spear. To be in the middle of the action.

By the time I was in college, I had set my sights on the broadcast television industry. I graduated with a degree in communications, and set off into my new career as a TV news producer.

Here was my chance to be in the middle of it all. To provide people the information they needed to navigate their community. To be at the tip of the spear, at long last.

It wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

I quickly discovered that I was producing the least-viewed newscast in the region, in a town full of roughnecks and ranch hands. I got more calls about the wrong episode of Jeopardy airing on our channel than I got news tips.

The hours were rough and I worked most holidays. And on many days, the news was light or inconsequential.

When there was action to cover, it was often sobering. Wildfires burning thousands of acres of prairie. Shootings. Robberies. And a collision between a train and a parade float that left four Purple Heart recipients dead.

It was that last incident that really got to me. I broke that story on the local news, and soon national news correspondents were covering it. I had reached peak tip of the spear status. And yet, I felt broken.

That night, I cried myself to sleep. And in the days and weeks afterward, I questioned everything. My contract was expiring, and I needed to reevaluate not only my career choice, but also the rationale behind it.

The results were drastic. I rebooted both my career and the sense of purpose underlying it. No longer would I be demand to be where the action was. Fading into the background would be just fine by me.

My decision to switch careers was the right one. But that didn’t make it any easier.

For one thing, I was abandoning the field that I’d gotten my education in. The role I’d trained for and toiled at for years was now fading into my rearview mirror.

It was a heck of a sunk cost to cast off.

But beyond that sobering truth lay another. I was turning my back on what society expected of me.

All those years pursuing the tip of the spear had not gotten me the satisfaction I was hoping for. And yet, going another direction made me feel like a pariah.

I’m not alone in this dilemma. Many of us are torn between what’s expected of us and what best suits us. Especially when the choice is between the glory of the action and the obscurity of the shadows.

But we should not let the trappings of tradition blind us to the truth. The tip of the spear is not for everyone. And there is no shame in taking a supporting role.

After all, the supporting shaft of the spear is what makes the weapon so lethal. It provides the inertia to send the spear hurtling toward the target.

So, no. Taking a step back from the fray isn’t cowardly. It’s anything but.

It’s time that we recognize that fact.

Rewind and Fast Forward

How did we get here?

It’s a common question these days.

Whether the question comes from a place of anguish, exasperation or curiosity, it’s omnipresent.

There’s good reason for us to delve into this root cause analysis. The past is already written. It’s printed in the pages of books or encoded in our memory banks.

Our recollections of what came before are often vivid. And our interpretation of those events can draw a line to the present.

Never mind that our accounts of the past can be skewed by bias. That history is all too often written by the victors. That memories can fade over time, or enter our cognition already tarnished by an abundance of stress or a lack of perspective.

The fundamental point remains the same.

We draw upon what’s known to help figure out what’s uncertain. We take the solid inscriptions of our past to reconcile the shaky ground of our present.

This method has served us well for generations. After all, the old adage goes, Those who do not learn from history are bound to repeat it.

Yet, the habit of rewinding to move ahead is less relevant than ever today.

Why? We have more power over our story trajectory these days. No longer are we akin to cattle, being paraded down the well-worn trails our ancestors have left.

Today, we are not bounded by limits in technology, communication and innovation. We are largely free to forge a new path that can upend the way society works.

This provides great opportunity. But also, a great challenge.

For while these changes are of our volition, the side effects can make us queasy.

There is no recipe book we can turn to when the ground gets shaky. No prescription to ease the volatility.

The straight-line relationship we’ve inferred between past and present has shifted into an accelerating curve. We’re writing the book in real-time now.

So what recourse do we have? How can we keep our narrative from taking an unintended turn?

It starts by asking a new question.

Where do we go from here?

Starting with this question moves us from reaction to action. It can allow us to move forward with intention, unencumbered by the weight of the past.

It can help us find meaning, even in the face of present-day unease. It can help us write our story on our own terms.

And the best part? This method can work for just about everyone.

No matter which factors have led us to this point, there is a beneficial way forward.

Yes, for some of us, those past actions themselves lead to forward-facing consequences. If we’ve committed a crime, we must do the time. We cede control of our narrative to pay our debt to society.

But this is an edge case. A grave one, but an edge case nonetheless.

For the most part, we have the power to fast forward. To consider what comes next in order to right our wrongs, build off our achievements and iterate toward a brighter future.

We seldom use this power. And when we do, it’s all too often secondary to our root cause analysis.

It’s time to change that.

Even in an ambiguous world, the direction we head is still largely in our control.

But it starts by asking the right questions.

Let’s do so.

On Patriotism

Every year, as the summer nears its swell, we follow some familiar patterns.

We break out the sunglasses and fire up the grill. We jump into a body of water to cool off.

And we think about patriotism.

Yes, with Independence Day coming smack dab in the middle of the summer, we inevitably take some time to think about what it means to be American. On the significance of having pride for the Red, White and Blue.

For me, patriotism is not about burgers and hot dogs, flags or fireworks. It’s not about buzzwords like liberty or Stars and Stripes. And it’s certainly got nothing to do with the hot-button issues that have done little but divide us.

No, to me patriotism is about a black and white photo.

The photo sits on my living room wall, under my college diploma. It’s framed, dated March 8, 1945 and postmarked RTC Great Lakes. It features 124 recruits of the United States Navy, arranged in 6 rows for a group photo.

In the first row, two recruits to the left of the young man holding the Navy flag, is my grandfather.

He’s just two weeks past his 18th birthday. Baby faced and decked out in his Navy uniform, he stares toward the camera with a reserved smile. It’s his first time west of the Eastern Time Zone, yet there’s nowhere he’d rather be.

My grandfather grew up in Brooklyn during the Great Depression. There was poverty all around him, but also hope. That hope came from the relative freedom of opportunity America provided to those driven to improve their standing.

As my grandfather approached high school, the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, propelling the U.S. into World War II. My grandfather quickly learned of the atrocities of dictators in Europe and Asia and was inspired to defend the way of life he’d come to know. He was determined to protect America from the grasp of totalitarian powers.

My grandfather enlisted in the Navy at age 17. There was no decision to be made, he later told me. He believed in America and felt obligated to defend it.

The journey took him further from home than ever before. He first went to Illinois for training at RTC Great Lakes. Then, it was off to Camp Pendleton in California to prepare for action in the Pacific theater.

But days before he was slated to see combat, my grandfather broke his foot in an accident in the barracks. The injury relegated him to the role of Corpsman and kept him stateside.

The ship went out to sea without my grandfather, and the Japanese quickly torpedoed it. His replacement was one of the casualties in the incident.

My grandfather’s non-combat injury saved his life. Yet, it also robbed him of the chance to defend our nation in combat. And another man made the ultimate sacrifice in his place.

My grandfather never spoke much about this dynamic — this mix of luck and guilt. He only spoke of the principles he believed in, the ones that led him to enlist in the first place.

My grandfather still believed in his mission of protecting our country, even if his role had now changed. Protecting and rehabilitating the injured was still a key part of that objective — and it’s one he took seriously.

Even when fate once again dealt him an adverse hand.

On a sunny California day, my grandfather set out on the San Francisco Bay in a small vessel. On the boat with him were several wounded midshipmen, outfitted in plaster body casts. My grandfather’s orders for the day were to take these combat veterans out fishing.

As the boat made its way through the bay, it inadvertently drifted too close to Alcatraz Island. At that time, the island included an active federal prison that housed some of America’s most notorious criminals. The island was very closely guarded.

Patrolling Coast Guard boats saw my grandfather’s vessel approaching and made large wake to steer the fishing boat away from Alcatraz. But the large swells turned the boat almost sideways, sending some of the injured men into the water.

My grandfather jumped into the frigid waters of the bay to retrieve them. But the plaster body casts weighed the men down, and he couldn’t lift them back onto the boat. He couldn’t save them.

It was the cruelest form of irony. These men, injured in combat, meeting their end stateside in a series of unfortunate circumstances. My grandfather, powerless in his attempt to rescue them.

“I wish, to this day, that I could have saved them,” he told me years later.

It was my grandfather’s biggest regret in life.

My grandfather passed away a couple of years ago. But he lives on in sprit, through that picture on my wall.

I think of my grandfather each day. Of the decision he made to defend our nation at such an early age. I couldn’t be prouder of him for that.

But mostly, I think of that fateful day on the bay. Of the one sad story my grandfather told amidst a lifetime of happy ones.

There’s no doubt the story is deeply tragic. But I feel it also encapsulates what patriotism is about.

Patriotism is about jumping into the unknown to help our neighbors. And about the remorse we feel if anyone is left behind — plaster body cast or not.

For no matter the color of our skin, the city we call home or the faith we observe, we are part of the same great nation. We are strongest when we are as one.

It’s our obligation to lift each other up, rather than push others down. To trade our boorish ego for humility and selflessness. To discover what’s possible through collective action.

This, to me, is the true meaning of patriotism.

It’s what my grandfather believed in. It’s what he fought for. And it’s what I will continue to strive for, in his memory.

I’d be honored if you joined me.

Taking Decisive Action

If there are two words of advice I could provide for decision making, they would be Don’t Waffle.

Simple. To the point. And all too often ignored.

When we’re faced with an important choice we’re tempted to pause. To consider the risks and the alternatives we’re giving up in the process. And, subsequently, to get trapped between the paths forward.

Yes, it can be beneficial to be deliberate when facing a grave decision. But excessive deliberation leaves us stuck in neutral. It leaves us on the path to nowhere.

We understand this. But we fall into the same trap, time and again.

Why?

Because of our fear of imperfection. Of having to own a subpar result.

Even if we’re the only ones who know we chose the lesser option, it eats at us. Visions of what could have been serve to remind us that the grass is greener on the other side. Regrets abound.

This angst is so pronounced that we factor it into our decision-making process. Often long before we know what the results of our decision might be.

And therein lies the fatal flaw.

Most decisions are made ex ante, before the results are known. We can anticipate the results of our choice based on past results, future forecasts or our gut instincts. But there’s always a chance that things won’t go according to plan. There’s always a chance that we’ll be wrong.

There’s really no way of knowing that with certainty now. With all respect to psychics, Biblical figures and Tarot card readers, the future is unpredictable by nature.

Yet, our fear of undesirable outcomes causes us to gloss over this point. To take expected results as reality. To treat these ex ante decisions as ex post — or after the fact — ones.

It’s only at the point of no return that we realize how uncertain these outcomes are.

So, we pause. We agonize. We leave ourselves — and everyone waiting on our decision — in limbo.

This monster we create does no one any good. So, it’s best to slay the beast.

It’s best to take decisive action.

To treat our decision as a necessary step to move forward. And to commit wholeheartedly to our choice.

I’m a huge fan of the decisive action approach. It’s simple, yet all-encompassing.

Taking decisive action is about far more than just coming to a decision.

It’s about embracing the finality of our decision, regardless of how it turns out.

It’s about taking responsibility for everything that happens ex post. Including making reparations or apologies for anything that goes wrong on account of our choice.

It’s about continually learning from the results of our decisions. Using good outcomes to inform subsequent decisions.

Now, it’s not about throwing caution to the wind. It’s still critically important to prepare, so that we can make an informed decision.

But when the moment of truth is upon us, it does us no good to freeze.

So, let’s break the ice.

Let’s stop waffling. Let’s start moving forward.

Let’s take decisive action.

Character or Action?

How should we evaluate people?

This is a concern we all have.

It’s difficult to find the right attributes to benchmark others by, particularly when our heart conflicts with our head.

It’s a challenge to differentiate between character and action.

The divide between character and action is similar to that between effort and execution. We lavish praise for one, yet make important decisions based on another.

In essence, we love to talk about how great people are, and how great they make us feel. But we don’t ultimately judge them on those attributes.

Or at least we shouldn’t.

You see, far too often we hear a familiar refrain.

They haven’t been holding up their end of the bargain, but they’re such a nice person. So, I’m not going to do anything.”

Wait, what?

By relying on a person’s character when making a decision in this scenario, we do more than merely let them off the hook for inaction.

We shortchange ourselves.

Character is good. Character is important. But in a results-based society, character cannot be paramount.

Regardless how strong someone’s character might seem, it’s their actions that make the biggest impact. These actions can help us or hurt us. And we owe it to ourselves to avoid that second outcome.

On a basic level, we understand this delineation. We recognize that we must be firm and objective when evaluating options and making decisions.

But in practice, it’s hard to follow through. After all, we don’t want to appear as cold and heartless. We’d rather not rebuke the kindness we’ve received with a sharp “No thanks.”

So, we put character on a pedestal. We place the soft-skill of likability over the measurable attribute of productivity.

This makes us feel good. It makes us feel like we’re contributing to society, and that we care about others. But these sensations blind us to the damage we’re doing to ourselves.

Yes, despite what folk tale wisdom might say, leading with the heart can be very dangerous.

 

Quality character should be table stakes in our society. There’s no reason for us to treat others badly. We all deserve kindness and respect.

Sadly, not everyone demonstrates this level of character. So, it becomes an object of our desire.

This starts the vicious cycle that send our values out of whack. That prioritizes bedside manner over results.

We must correct course.

We must remember that actions speak louder than words. That character is no substitute for results.

We can continue to promote quality character, of course. To instill it in the hearts and minds of others. Making the world a better place is always worth doing.

But we must leave it there. And not forget where our priorities must lie.

Character speaks loudly. Action speaks loudest.

Acting With Intention

What are your intentions?

We don’t often hear these words. But when we do, it’s safe to assume there’s a healthy bit of skepticism associated with them.

The mission is unclear — or perhaps unwanted — for the person asking the question. It’s on us to open the curtain and show what we’re really up to.

This cat-and-mouse game makes intentionality a taboo subject. Declaring our intentions outright sets us past the Point of No Return, where we must own our choices and their consequences outright. With this in mind, we prefer to keep our cards close to the vest whenever possible.

It seems like the safe play. But illusions can be deceiving.

You see, hiding our intentions is a lot like hedging our bets. It leads us to cede control in order to avoid responsibility.

When we’re not held accountable for our every action, we feel secure. We can go through our daily routines carefree — as if we’re floating on the clouds. All the while oblivious to how vulnerable we actually are.

For as peaceful as things might look in this scenario, we’re bound to encounter some turbulent moments in our lives. There will be some times where things just aren’t going our way.

When we come across these moments, it doesn’t really matter who or what’s to blame. Our sudden misfortune wipes the smile from our face and puts us in a bad mood instantly.

It turns out all the work we’ve done to avoid ownership of the situation doesn’t actually help us feel better at all when things go south. If anything, it makes us feel weak and helpless.

This is why it’s far better to act with intention whenever possible. To determine our purpose and then deliver on it with everything we do.

This is far from a simple process. After all, intentionality requires a continual commitment between the ears. A laser focus on purpose throughout the dozens of tasks we take on each day.

And this is far from a flawless process. Things will still go awry from time to time. And when they do, we will have to take a long look into the mirror to determine why.

But all that said, this is a critical process. For it gives us the power to better write our narrative. To go after what we seek, instead of waiting for it to be handed to us. To control many of the variables in our daily lives, and better react to those which we can’t control.

Yes, intentionality is a key concept in life. And one that can serve as a huge differentiator.

So, let’s go ahead and find that vigor for what lies ahead of us. Let’s embrace it with a renewed sense of purpose, and a laser-sharp sense of focus.

Let’s act with intention.

Facing Fear

Fear is one of the most powerful and universal motivators out there.

Regardless of our environment or disposition, we actively avoid situations that terrify us. Much like the antelope running from the lion on the Serengeti, fear drives us forward.

Fear inspires us to try harder, remain vigilant and avoid situations that make us feel uncomfortable. The message: Avoid unpleasant outcomes at all costs.

It’s all stick, no carrot. But it’s plenty effective anyway.

Yet, while fear can save us from being stagnant or careless, it can also prevent us from exploring the depths of our possibilities.

After all, the world is plenty scary. And we all too often remain inside our bubble to avoid facing our fears.

But, it turns out the safe play isn’t always the smart one.

While it makes sense to lock our cars and our homes, it’s foolish to lock our minds and our hearts.

Worse still, it’s futile. Because no matter how much we try and insulate ourselves from our fears, there’s a chance we’ll still end up facing them head-on.

And when we do, we might find them to be less terrifying than we’d anticipated.

I know this firsthand. For the first four years of my professional life, I was terrified of losing my job.

So, I played it safe. I didn’t take many risks. I asked my supervisors for a second opinion on my decisions constantly. And I volunteered to help colleagues whenever possible.

I did all this to make myself indispensable. To keep from losing my job.

But it happened anyway.

My second employer — the first one to give me a chance when I switched careers — laid me off after less than ten months on the job.

It was raw and painful for me at first. I couldn’t understand why I was out of a job, even though my job performance was high.

You see, I never considered that factors beyond my control might impact my employment status. That my position might be collateral damage if my employer was struggling.

(As it turns out, the venture that let me go went bust two months later.)

No, I wasn’t considering any of that at the time. Instead, I was considering myself a failure. I remember asking myself How could I ever hope to land another job with this black mark on my resume? And how am I going to be able to afford the rent?

I quickly learned how shortsighted this thinking was.

My current employer hired me within two weeks. And all that anxiety over upcoming rent payments evaporated.

I’d faced my fears head-on, and survived.

I’ve noticed a change in myself since that time. I’m more willing to take risks now, to get outside of my comfort zone, to be bold and direct.

This has made me a more indispensable and innovative employee than I was when I obsessed over my job status.

Yes, I have the luxury of being fearless now, because I’ve already experienced my fears. And I’ve discovered they’re not quite the monsters I thought they would be.

Truth is, we all have this luxury. We just need the gumption to act on it — within reason of course. (I wouldn’t recommend diving onto jagged rocks or swatting a hornet’s nest with your bare hands, for instance.)

Facing our fears isn’t easy. Such is the nature of running at something that chases us.

But it’s most certainly worth it.

So, be bold. Be strong.

Face that fear head-on, and you’ll stand to rise above it.

The Light Bulb Moment

What happens when it all clicks?

When something that was once difficult to grasp suddenly makes sense. When what was once murky becomes crystal clear in our mind.

It’s pretty magical, ain’t it?

I call this instance “The Light Bulb Moment.”

Just like electric light, it can illuminate at the flip of a switch. And just like many other significant moments in life, it can be difficult to fully explain the sensation we feel when this happens.

Why is that? Well, there are a mix of emotions at play each time that switch is flipped.

On one hand, there’s a heightened sense of relief. Something that was one frustrating and exhausting for us to comprehend — such as a math principle or a business operation — suddenly requires far less effort, and we can step back take a deep breath.

But on the other hand, there’s often a desire to act upon what we can now comprehend — and quickly. This is inspired by both the excitement of testing our newfound understanding and the fear of it disappearing from our mind, should we fail to take immediate action.

It’s the balance between these conflicting triggers — one encouraging us to relax, the other spurring us further into the fray — that gives us those warm fuzzies that are hard to articulate with words. It’s what sends us into mad scientist mode, tinkering with that newly understood concept with a smile glued to our face.

And while this all might seem a bit odd and contrarian, The Light Bulb Moment reflects the human condition better than nearly every other situation.

You see, there’s a misconception that people just want everything to be easy and require little work. A misconception that we all want our version of the Staples Easy Button (y’all remember those, right?) in all walks of life.

Thing is, this is not entirely true. As a whole, humans are not lazy or averse to a challenge. We’re happy to put in the work, provided we understand what it is we’re doing and what the outcome of it will be.

Essentially, we just want everything to be clear. To not have to spend a ton of effort trying to grasp a concept or purpose.

This will make us more efficient and less flustered as we take on the myriad tasks life puts in our path. Both of these attributes allow us to be at our best. After all, frustration is hardly humanity’s best look.

This is why we devote ourselves to training and education. Why we value communication and teamwork. For the less time we spend trying to catch up, the more time we can spend in getting ahead.

That’s far more valuable.

So, we should cherish these light bulb moments. We should continue to seek them out and learn from them. But most importantly, we should continue to act on them.

For the more we do, the brighter our future becomes.

A Holiday Wish

The holidays are here.

It’s a time of joy, cheer, giving and indulgence. It’s a time when festive decorations light up the darkest and good tidings bring warmth to the biting winter chill (which seems to be conspicuously absent this year). This juxtaposition is what makes the holidays so special, but there’s another reason the timing of this season is so important.

As someone who’s battled depression at various points in my life, I know that the winter can be the most difficult time of the year. Depression can take root in the mind at any time, but when the days are short, cold and gray, it can have a more pronounced effect. Filling the darkest and shortest of days with the generosity, kindness and light that surround the holidays can help lift spirits that are otherwise weighed down by depression.

So this season, I have a wish for everyone. Somewhere between the Egg Nog and the Champagne, family and friends, gifts and Mistletoe, bring joy to someone who needs it. Someone for whom this season is not a luxury, but a necessity. Show you’re there. Show you care.

Make a difference in someone’s life with this simple act. This will not only bring a smile to your face, but it will warm your heart. Trust me.

Happy Holidays and God Bless.