Tag: destiny

A Winning Hand

You gotta know when to hold ‘em and know when to fold ‘em.

Kenny Rogers’ The Gambler is famously hokey. It amounts to three and a half minutes of non-advice about how to find a winning hand — both in card games and in life.

The song was well past its peak when I was a teenager. You’d hear it now and then out in public, but not frequently enough.

Truth be told, we could have used a bit more Kenny Rogers back then. For plenty of us were in big trouble.

You see, poker was gaining popularity nationally. And online poker was becoming prevalent. Many of my teenage peers were caught up in the craze, mesmerized by the allure of massive payouts.

Yet, most of these teens had little experience managing money. And when the winning hands dwindled — when the bluffing and bravado went up in smoke — some ended up deep in the hole to entities determined to collect.

It was a real problem. One that threatened to haunt my generation for years to come.

I didn’t get swept up by the online poker craze as a teenager. And I didn’t end up with a mountain of debt.

There were two factors guarding me from such a fate. I was extremely risk averse. And I was bad at poker.

I played the game now and then — mostly at family game nights or gatherings with friends. I knew what a Royal Flush and a Full House were. And I could usually identify a winning hand.

But when I didn’t have that hand, I was toast.

Yes, I was proficient at playing the cards I was dealt. But when it came to reading the table, I was a novice.

I never bluffed. And wouldn’t dare call out others for doing so.

I didn’t win much this way. But I didn’t lose big either.

All this was extremely on brand for my life at the time.

I tried to shy away from false pretense as a teenager. Sure, my fashion sense and musical taste were less than authentic. But when it came to items of substance, I focused on the tasks directly in front of me. This ethos made me a solid student and a reliable friend.

Yet, as I grew older, I began to stray from this path. I started dreaming big, making grand plans, and racking up assumptions.

And just like those amateur teenage poker players, I got burned.

2.0 in 2020.

That was the name of my now-infamous plan to take my life to the next level.

It had already been quite the ride for me in early adulthood. I’d moved to faraway West Texas to work in TV news, only to ultimately leave that industry and move east to Dallas.

I’d landed on my feet and built a stable career in digital marketing. But I feared that I’d plateaued, and I saw few advancement opportunities out there.

Rather than play the cards I was dealt, I yearned to build myself a winning hand.

So, I bet big. I enrolled in business school, while still working full time. And as I neared the finish line of my Masters of Business Administration studies, I set objectives for myself.

Getting a new job was paramount. But not just any job. I needed an “MBA job” in marketing at a major company in the area. And it had to happen not long after graduation, while my degree was still “fresh.”

By my estimations, this metamorphosis needed to be in full swing by the time 2020 rolled around. Hence, the 2.0 in 2020 moniker.

At first, things looked promising. I made it all the way to a final round of interviews with a prominent global brand. I had some other promising prospects as well.

But then, things dried up. The interview requests dwindled, and I got snubbed for an internal promotion.

As my self-imposed deadline of 2020 approached, I felt as if I was holding anything but a winning hand.

Then, a global pandemic arrived.

With the world shutting down, I felt compelled to hang on to what I had. My home, my friends, and my job.

This feeling only intensified when my employer was acquired. The future of my position was shaky, and I prayed that my income would continue to come in.

2.0 in 2020 had gone up in flames spectacularly. I had retreated into my shell in response, waiting in vain for the firestorm to abate.v

But I grew bored after a time. And I got bold.

I landed a role on my new employer’s marketing team — finally getting that MBA job I’d yearned for. I joined some local running groups and started medaling in races. I trekked around the country more than I had in years.

Like a phoenix, I’d risen from the ashes. I was making my own luck, and I was thriving.

But a big part of me wondered how much of all this was real. And I feared that I’d become Icarus, flying too close to the sun.

My fears were soon realized.

I got sick on a work trip and then hit a few bumpy patches at work. I got injured, putting an abrupt pause to my running exploits. I faded away from friends and family, losing confidence in myself throughout the ordeal.

I was frustrated. I was dispirited. I was lost.

The ghost of 2.0 in 2020 had burned me once again.

What is a winning hand?

I asked this rhetorically one night, as I stared aimlessly at the living room wall.

Through all the ups and downs, my North Star had remained constant. But it was evident that I had no idea what that star was.

It seemed best to get back to basics. To stop waffling between honest play and the bluff. To stop looking at the cards altogether.

The planning hadn’t led to the payoff. The house got the last laugh every time.

It would be far better for me to take things one day at a time. To look at what’s in right front of me and to react accordingly.

I’ve started taking this approach a bit more. And thus far, I’m happy with the results.

There’s a poignant lesson in here for all of us.

While we might desire to upgrade our hand through bluster and bravado to find success, we might have all we need already. It’s likely been there the whole time. We just hadn’t bothered to look for it before.

Success can be found in stillness. In simplicity. In the six inches in front of our face.

It’s our job — our obligation — to open our eyes to it. Let’s do so.

Deferred, Not Denied

The plan was on paper.

It had objectives, timelines, and even a formal name.

Relaunch 2020.

I was determined to fire on all cylinders as the new decade rolled in. It was all mapped out.

I would leverage my newly minted master’s degree into a marketing role at a major company. I would take my volunteer leadership efforts to new heights. I would accelerate healthy living habits. And I would strengthen my relationships with friends and family.

My first decade of adulthood had been rocky at times. There were certainly some accomplishments worth celebrating. But there was also a career shift, two moves to new cities, and a continual struggle to earn a respectable living wage.

I’d risen to meet the challenges I’d faced, over and over. But I had started to feel myself stagnating, and I worried about putting an artificial lid on my potential.

This is what spurred me to enroll in business school while working full-time. It’s what convinced me to work out more and improve my diet. It’s what led me to take on a leadership role with my local alumni chapter.

Relaunch 2020 would be the next phase of all this groundwork. It would lead to tangible results that would improve my life. And in doing so, it would cut down on my anxiety.

As 2020 approached, I could feel the momentum building. I was filled with excitement.

I was on the edge of realizing my dreams. And then they were ripped away from me.

It’s a harrowing feeling when the world you thought you knew transforms into something that’s anything but familiar.

I’ve experienced this dystopia several times in my life. I felt it in the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks. I lived it in the white-knuckle years of the Great Recession.

But nothing quite knocked me to my knees like the onset of a microscopic virus.

The COVID Pandemic disrupted all our lives in previously unheard-of ways. But the aspects of those disruptions — well, they seemed like a bowling ball taking dead aim at all my hopes and dreams.

The job market dried up as both office spaces and the economy temporarily shuttered. In-person events all but disappeared. And many health and wellness amenities went dark — ironically, in the name of protecting public health.

Suddenly, my hopes of getting a new job were scuttled. I needed to jump through hoops to work out. And, for a time, I was prohibited from even seeing my friends and family.

At first, I was fine giving all this up. The virus was frightening, and sacrifices were needed to keep it at bay.

So, I paused the job search. I pivoted from lifting weights at the gym to running outside. And I replaced in-person visits with videocalls.

But as the pandemic dragged on indeterminately, I grew more and more agitated. I had formed a plan to get out of the situation I was in, only to see the universe bar me from following through.

My dreams were denied. At least that’s what I thought.

It’s not how many times you get knocked down. It’s how many times you get back up.

This boxing analogy has become tired, even cliché.

We’ve made too much of our own resilience, even considering it a feature of our life’s journey. In doing so, we make it seem if the mere presence of a setback will send us roaring into high gear.

It’s rarely that simple.

As I sought to move past the power punch the Pandemic threw at me, it seemed opportunities for resilience were lacking. With the business world in the throes of a recession and social life on hold, I didn’t even have a stage for my comeback. I would need to be patient and see how it all would play out.

But as I bided my time, the calculus changed yet again.

First, my employer was acquired by a different company. Second, in-person road races returned — giving me a forum to benchmark my running abilities.

I ultimately found unexpected opportunities from both these developments. I was able to move to a new role on the marketing team of the parent company of my employer. And through racing, I was able to find running groups and a broader running community.

Now, I’m thriving in my career. I’m using the full breadth of my marketing skillset while embracing the support my efforts yield. And I’ve gone from a recreational runner to an advanced one, scoring top finishes in shorter races and training for major marathons.

None of this was in the cards for Relaunch 2020. I was supposed to switch employers, not stay on board. There was no mention of running one mile, let alone 26.2.

And yet, I am still living the ethos of that plan. I’m realizing my full potential, while taking aim at the opportunities that still lie ahead. And it is glorious.

My dreams were deferred, but they have not been denied.

Tick, tick, tick.

That once was the soundtrack of my mind.

No longer.

Sure, I still feel a sense of urgency. I’m not getting any younger, and there’s now a generation directly below me going after the same things I am.

But I’ve come to learn that my destiny might not arrive right on schedule. And the costs of such a delay might not be as steep as I once feared.

To be clear, I still don’t expect such delayed gratification to befall me. And I’m keenly aware that I must still have a plan to bridge the gap if it does.

But I’m far better equipped to roll with the punches now. For I have seen light at the end of the tunnel and basked in its glow. And I recognize that there are many routes to a desirable destination.

So, to all agitated at the status quo, to all those frustrated by the prospect of dreams deferred, don’t despair.

Hope still lucks on the horizon if you’re willing to look for it.

Deferred is not denied.

The Spiral of Doom

It was a treasured childhood ritual.

I would sit quietly while my grandfather regaled me with stories.

Sometimes, these would be fanciful tales, generated by his endless imagination. But more often they’d be full of truth.

My grandfather had plenty of material to work with. For he had seemingly seen it all.

He grew up in the throes of the Great Depression, enlisted in the Navy in World War II, and attended college on the GI Bill. His adult years were marked by the Cold War, the Civil Rights Movement, and an inflation crisis. There were stories for just about all these events.

I cherished these tales because they gave me a window into history. The Berlin Wall fell in my lifetime, but I was too young to remember the occasion. And all the other crises had long ended before I was around. My grandfather’s stories were all that was left.

It was hard for me to imagine a world with such tumult. After all, the era I was experiencing firsthand was full of stability and prosperity.

And yet, I listened intently. For while it seemed unlikely that this turbulent history would repeat itself, there were plenty of lessons to be learned from it.

Fast forward a few decades. My grandfather no longer walks this earth. But his stories are still with me.

I’m especially thankful for that these days.

It’s no secret that the last couple of years have been difficult.

We’ve been saddled by a brutal pandemic, a battered economy, a contested presidential election, a racial reckoning, and a war in Europe. Nearly all the low points of the 20th century have reemerged in a singular period in the 21st.

Such a development has shattered our assumptions. We once believed that we had insulated ourselves from disease, political instability, financial strife, and strained race relations. We once believed that threats of nuclear war were off the table and that America’s global clout was assured.

No longer.

As we wade through these suddenly uncertain waters, we find ourselves asking the same question: How did we get here?

We were supposed to have protections against all that’s befallen us. Our technological capacity is far beyond what was imaginable even a generation ago. Medical breakthroughs have helped us manage ailments that were once devastating. We’re more enlightened — individually and collectively — than we were decades ago.

And yet, here we are again — finding ourselves blindsided as history repeats itself.

Such dissonance between intentions and outcomes can make us fatalistic. It can lead us to conclude that this spiral of doom is inevitable.

But such a conclusion misses the mark.

Globalization.

It’s a word that’s everywhere these days.

When times are good, globalization is the key to our expanded possibilities. When things are going poorly, it’s the scapegoat for our problems.

We act as if globalization is a newfangled concept. As if it’s something conjured up in recent years.

It’s anything but.

Known efforts to connect the world stretch back at least to the Roman Empire. And they likely go back far earlier.

The Roman Empire might not seem globalized to our modern eyes. After all, the Romans didn’t have international wire transfers, instantaneous news delivery, or asynchronous supply chains at their beck and call. But ultimately, that’s just window dressing.

Through systems, edicts, and innovations, the Romans made a mark on the affairs of the world. Some of their initiatives — such as a representative government, and networks of roads and utilities — were a net positive. Others — such as robust a system of slavery and rampant religious persecution — are viewed with disdain.

Both the good and the bad are marked in the annals of history. All that knowledge has been passed on through hundreds of generations. And much of it — whether exemplary or shameful — has been repeated, long after the fall of Caesar.

The wheels of history keep turning, for better or for worse.

Why do we believe that the bad outcomes of our past won’t reoccur in our future?

It is our belief in our own enlightenment? Our faith in innovation? Our investment in robust protection?

It doesn’t matter.

Truth be told, we cannot bypass the spiral of doom.

For part of what sends us forward is also what sends us backward. The two forces are inherently linked.

Forward momentum involves change. Yet, change is something we’re notoriously bad at dealing with.

As such, a series of missteps and bad outcomes are almost inevitable as the world moves forward.

Don’t believe me? Consider the 20th century.

The world took a massive leap forward in that time. But it was also roiled by a series of devastating events, from global wars to financial crises to a flu pandemic.

These events might seem disparate and random, but they’re interconnected.

A period of rapid industrialization at the turn of the century opened the door to new opportunities. But it also threatened the world order – which mostly consisted of empires at that time.

Such tensions led directly to World War I. And the mobilization of troops helped spread a nasty flu strain, intensifying the Spanish Flu Pandemic.

In the wake of that war, Germany was in shambles. A combination of punitive sanctions and hyperinflation left that nation open to far-right influences, spurring the rise of the Nazis and the horrors of the Holocaust.

After the Nazis were vanquished in World War II, tensions over how the fallen Reich would be divided ultimately led to the Cold War. And runaway defense spending — on both sides of the Iron Curtain — led to even more financial instability and the eventual end of the conflict.

These events played out over the course of eight decades, leading to a slow burn of misery. But despite that long timeline, there was little that could be done on the individual level to stop the carnage.

So yes, perhaps it was inevitable that we’d end up here — withstanding a hurricane of bad outcomes. But ultimately, that’s not what’s important.

What matters most — especially now — is how we respond.

Will we wave the white flag, and bury our heads in the sand? Or will we work toward building a brighter future, no matter the speed bumps that might lie in our way?

There really is only one sensible answer.

The spiral of doom is real. But it doesn’t have to define us.

Let’s not let it.

Under Control

What do you think of when you hear the word Control?

Odds are, the connotation is negative.

Maybe you think of power. Or dominance. Or micromanagement. Or manipulation. Or just someone who’s way too uptight.

Perhaps the label Control Freak comes to mind. Or the word Bossy.

In any case, the message is clear. Control can make monsters of men. And it’s hardly anyone’s redeeming quality.

It’s a shame we villainize the concept of control like this. For in a wild world, it can actually be our best ally.

It can protect us (and those around us) from undesirable outcomes. It can take some of the randomness out of life’s journey. And it can provide us with some semblance of direction when it comes to navigating our destiny.

These benefits have encouraged me to embrace the notion of control. To consider myself a Control Enthusiast. (Kudos to National Car Rental for coining that term.)

I see no shame or malice in this behavior. In my view, this is the only way I can truly influence my life’s journey.

Think about life for a moment. All the experiences we encounter are just a series of causes and effects. Of inputs and outputs.

Those outputs — or effects — are the results we get. The situations we find ourselves in. And those inputs are the actions that get us to that point.

When it comes to navigating this cause-effect construct, there are two predominant schools of thought. Some people ignore the cause entirely, and adapt to the effect. Others try and influence the causes, in order to drive the desired effects.

Control enthusiasts tend to lean toward the second strategy.

We obsess on the details of those causes and inputs. We navigate them with pinpoint precision.

We do this not out of a sense of paranoia, but rather out of a sense of logic.

You see, there’s a tendency to blame unsavory outcomes we all encounter on randomness. On bad luck or unforeseen circumstances.

But while misfortune certainly plays a role in the bad outcomes we must reconcile with in our lives, it might not be the leading one. In fact, there’s a pretty good chance that we had some say over at least some of the inputs that caused the undesired result.

That is to say, there are some things we likely could have done to reduce the chances of the outcome we ultimately encountered.

For instance, let’s say we return to our parked car after a night out and find the windows shattered and our laptop gone. We could determine in that moment that the fates are lined up against us. But it will likely be more productive to consider what we could have done to prevent the break-in. Maybe we could have parked in a safer and better lit area. Or not left our laptop in the vehicle unattended.

Or let’s say we get sick after spending three hours at a late-season football game. We can blame the crowd for spreading germs. Or we could consider how our choice of attire might have impacted our health.

The implications are clear. In both cases, we could have taken steps to better the outcome.

As they say, The less we leave to chance, the less chance we’ll get bit in the…rear end.

 

 Now, of course, being a control enthusiast won’t solve all problems. There are times when we must cede control to others. There are moments when we must place our trust in them to attain the optimal results. It can be difficult to impossible for control enthusiasts to do this without making a ruckus. And these outbursts tarnish public acceptance of controlled behavior.

Fortunately, technology now provides us with some middle ground. Control enthusiasts can now track their checked luggage from origin to destination, thanks to a feature on most airlines’ smartphone apps. And smart doorbells allow control enthusiasts to monitor their home’s front door from hundreds of miles away.

These advancements don’t wipe away the need for trust. After all, something can easily go wrong when we’re physically separated from our homes or luggage. But they do provide control enthusiasts with peace of mind.

Thanks to these tech solutions, there are fewer unknown variables to control enthusiasts to account for. And they can easily read and react to any issues that do arise, instead of wasting effort trying to figure out what went wrong.

Hopefully, these advancements will help change the stigma around control. Hopefully they will empower others to take command of their lives, to take responsibility for the outcomes they have a hand in.

Because a society of control enthusiasts might not be a bad thing after all. It could create a culture of empathy, compassion and common purpose.

That’s a culture worth pursuing. Let’s make it happen.

The Sweetness of Serendipity

Many of the events of our lives can be attributed to serendipity.

We might call it luck, fortune or God’s will. Regardless of the nomenclature, it all converges on the same theme.

Being in the right place at the right time is everything.

If that explanation seems like too vague and simplistic, consider this:

The one constant in our world is motion. The earth orbits the sun yearly, and spins on its axis hundreds of times during that journey. The water that sustains us flows through streams, oceans, and our faucets. Air travels from one place to another — both as a fierce Arctic wind and a warm summer breeze.

And the one constant in our lives is motion. Blood flows through our veins, ideas flow through our minds, and — to the degree that we are physically able — we flow from one location to another in search of shelter, entertainment or prosperity.

With all these forces in motion, collisions are inevitable. We collide both with forces of nature and forces of humanity. It’s a side effect of an environment where nothing is truly in suspense.

Over time, we learn how to handle these encounters. We dress for the elements and learn social etiquette. What was once profound quickly becomes routine.

How quickly we forget the power of these collisions. And the ability they have to define our lives.

Because the path we take is not a matter of fate. It’s a matter of circumstance. Of taking those random encounters and turning them into something fortuitous.

That is the essence of serendipity. The essence of our life’s story. No more, no less.

So why do we keep looking for a higher explanation? On finding patterns in the stars or answers in the heavens?

The answer comes down to one word: Control.

You see, we are obsessed with controlling our outcomes. On free will and the pursuit of happiness. We’ve built an entire society upon these principles, and forged our dispositions upon them.

But it’s all an illusion. In reality, much of what happens in our lives is beyond our control. It’s unpredictable, yet still impactful.

We don’t know how to rationalize these random occurrences. So, we try and fit the square peg into a round hole. We key in on patterns. We speak of fates aligning. We do all we can to regain control of the profound.

There’s a better way to react. Instead of trying to predict the next serendipitous moment, we should prepare ourselves to pounce on it. To treat it as an opportunity and to capitalize accordingly.

For that is where the rubber meets the road on our life’s story. We may not control serendipity, but we can take full ownership of its impact. We can use it to improve our fortunes and that of those around us.

That is where true success lies. That is where the serendipity tastes the sweetest.

Beating The Odds

Few phrases are as overdone as Beating the odds.

It seems as if this phrase comes out anytime someone overcomes a significant challenge. There’s seemingly always some mention of how the odds were stacked against that person, yet they overcame them anyway.

The parlance is used so frequently, in fact, that there’s never even a need to dust it off.

The implications of this statement are clear. Someone has done something unlikely and significant, and should be lauded for it.

Yet, the dramatic nature of the phrase Beating the odds belies one important fact.

The person was likely to overcome the challenge they faced. They were just more likely to succumb to it.

This might sound like a small detail, but hear me out.

We live in a world of polarization. It’s acceptable to accentuate differences in lifestyle choices, sports allegiances or politics. And words such as never and always are part of our everyday vocabulary.

We capitalize on extremes because it garners attention. And the debates we have with those with opposing viewpoints get the blood flowing and make us feel alive.

But extending this behavior to the narratives we tell — of ourselves or those we admire — is a fallacy.

You see, as long as our hearts are beating, we have a chance of doing something extraordinary, regardless how slim that chance might be.

Where there is a will, there is a way. So, every day provides us an opportunity to overcome an adverse situation or perform a notable feat.

It’s not always easy, but it’s certainly within the realm of possibility.

All too often, we forget this simple mathematical fact, and act as if the improbable feat we witnessed took the world off its axis.

And that’s just plain wrong.

Let us not forget why odds are out there in the first place. They’re designed so that others can handicap our future, and determine our destiny.

These people benefit by having these odds in place. But we’re no better off.

Why let them determine our fate? Our lives are our own, after all. What’s plausible should have no impact on what’s possible.

So, let’s change the conversation.

Let’s consider each day as a stepping stone as we work on achieving our hopes and dreams. Let’s focus on what’s in our realm of possibility and ignore any outside noise telling us how unlikely it might be.

Above all, let’s focus on our accomplishments. Both those behind us and those yet to come.

Odds are, that’s a better outlook to take.

The Branding of Us

I’ll never forget my first encounter with branding.

I was about 7 years old, plodding around the playground at recess in my Converse High Tops. But all I wanted was a pair of Nikes.

My shoes were comfortable. They were functional. And, in hindsight, they were hip!

(Plus, my mother probably saved a fortune on them at Marshall’s.)

But none of that mattered. My friends had Nikes. MJ sported Nikes. All I wanted were Nikes.

A few years later, I got my coveted pair of Nikes. And, aside from one pair of cross country running shoes, every pair of sneakers I’ve ever owned since then has either had a Swoosh or a Jumpman logo on it.

Branding is real.

***

I’ve harkened back to this playground scene a lot recently. It’s been getting more and more difficult for me to find Nike shoes that meet my fashion standards and fit my wide feet. And when I do, I end up paying a fortune for a product that frankly isn’t worth the extra money.

Yet, I keep coming back, as reliably as Pavlov’s dog.

Despite my knowing better, I’m loyal to Nike. It’s my look — and that makes it my only choice, for better or for worse. When the University of Miami switched apparel providers from Nike to Adidas in 2015, I quietly mourned the decision; I’ve since significantly cut back on the amount of t-shirts I’ve bought from my alma mater.

Nike is part of how I express myself. And — though it loathes me to admit this — Nike matters to me.

***

What keeps me coming back to the Swoosh? I could list any number of marketing psychology terms, but I’ll focus on one aspect — the narrative.

Stories are a powerful component of our lives, and branding is a key part of our personal stories — although not in the way corporate branding executives aim for. (Sorry Nike, I don’t think buying a pair of your cross-trainers will make me run like Usain Bolt.)

No, branding serves as a supporting actor in the feature production that is our lives. The styles we wear, the tech we buy and the food we eat at different points in the story — these are all impacted by branding. Either we’re loyal to certain brands or we’re consciously fighting the grip that a company name can have over our lives. In each case, brand influence is a factor in our personal brand.

***

And personal branding is significant. We are constantly sending a message — actively or passively, consciously or subconsciously. How that message is perceived can impact our destiny; this is why we try and take ownership of our own brand identity.

But where should we turn for inspiration when undertaking this task? I feel the best answer to that question is actually…companies like Nike.

You see, the impact of corporate brand influence on our lives is twofold. On one hand, it can embed itself in the story we tell. On another, it can provide us a reminder of which principles to master when crafting our personal brand.

Specifically, it can demonstrate how to build connections to our hopes and dreams. It can show us that how we act, how we dress, what we say and what we do can help us attain the life we desire — whether that be the job we dream of, the family we aspire to build or the circle of friends that we seek to maintain.

The foundation of the life we strive for might already be in existence. But until we take ownership of the narrative, our story is being written on autopilot.

***

It’s time to take control of the branding of us. Whether this means strengthening the connections we already have or breaking with them to build new ones, we must take the helm in writing the narrative of our lives.

We’re obligated to take on this task, because doing so can reap benefits for so many. A properly managed personal brand can help drive us forward, and positively impact those we come across. It can allow us to speak to our community in a way that truly resonates. It can help make the world a better place.

The branding of us is within our grasp. But it’s on us to make it happen.