Tag: growth

If You Could See Me Now

The assignment was simple. Write a letter to your future self.

I took the instructions seriously. For I received them during a summer internship in college — when I was inclined to do anything and everything asked of me.

So, I put pen to paper. I turned that piece of paper in. And some years later, I received it back in the mail.

But instead of opening the letter and regaling in my advice from the past, I filed that envelope away.

My words of that bygone summer couldn’t possibly meet the moment of where I was now.

Through lines.

They’re a critical element in almost any plot. For they serve as the connective tissue for the story arc.

When we look at our own narrative, it’s tempting to search for these through lines. It’s commonplace to expect our past to serve as prologue. It’s tantalizing to imagine connecting the dots with Hollywood flair.

Such scenarios might seem aesthetically pleasing. But they’re out of touch with reality.

The cold, hard truth about our narrative is best summed up by a scene in The Shawshank Redemption.

In this scene, longtime prisoner Red Redding is being interviewed by a parole board. When the interviewer asks Redding if he’s sorry for the crime that landed him behind bars, he offers up the following response.

There’s not a day goes by I don’t feel regret. Not because I’m in here, or because you think I should. I look back on the way I was then, a young, stupid kid who committed that terrible crime.

I wanna talk to him. I wanna try to talk some sense to him — tell him the way things are. But I can’t. That kid’s long gone and this old man is all that’s left. I gotta live with that.

Even while locked away from the world for decades, Redding has grown. And he’s gained enough perspective to realize that this growth happened while behind bars, not before it. As much as he might want to draw a through-line, he simply cannot.

I’m not a hardened criminal who’s spent decades behind foreboding prison walls. But I understand where Redding is coming from. And as such, I’ve stopped trying to connect the dots.

The person I was when I wrote that letter to myself, that was a different person than the one I am now. Yes, my body and mind have remained intact throughout that time, but both have transformed. Any quest for through lines is an exercise in futility.

Still, it’s fun to imagine. So, I’m allowing myself that liberty here — and inviting you along for the ride.

If you could see me now.

That’s how I’d start an address to my former self. The self-assured young adult, freshly immersed into the real world. Or the bratty teenager that preceded him.

The address would read like this:

If you could see me now, you wouldn’t believe your eyes.

I’ve reached the upper limits of what you think is possible, and then ascended even higher. It might not be the way you drew it up, but the result still tastes oh so sweet.

I’ve faced the struggles you might have assumed I’d confront, as well as some challenges that no one would ever see coming. The process has been painful at times, leading me to wonder if hope was beyond reach. And even now, the scars from those experiences fester. But I’ve made it to the other side.

I’ve tried new things at every turn. Novelties you might scoff at or write off, they’ve become the fabric of my life. The change I’ve encountered hasn’t always been comfortable, and it hasn’t always worked out. But branching out beyond the familiar has opened doors and unlocked so many opportunities I would have once considered unattainable.

I’ve become a TV news producer, then a marketer. I’ve gone back to school, while working full-time, to get a business degree. I’ve parlayed that into a job that I love at a company where I’m valued.

I’ve moved cities twice and forged lifelong connections along the way. I’ve launched a weekly publication, headed up an alumni association chapter, and built myself into a competitive distance runner.

Through all these experiences, I’ve grown into the man I am today. I still have that chip on my shoulder, that drive for continued excellence. But I also have a sense of balance and fulfillment in my life, along with a quiet confidence. I’m grateful for all of it.

If you could see me now, you wouldn’t believe your eyes. But in time, you’ll find out firsthand what you are truly capable of. Think bigger.

I know every inch of these words. I wrote them, and I lived them. And yet, they still give me chills.

For the younger version of me would not have been ready for any of this.

The younger me had a fixed mindset. The younger me believed in stability. The younger me took the world at face value, rather than challenging assumptions.

I’ve proven the younger me wrong at every turn. And for many years, I’ve done this without even noticing. It’s only recently that things have changed in that regard.

Perhaps this is the hallmark of growth. A steady transformation in the shadows that unlocks our potential and expands our horizons.

I don’t know for sure. But I do know that I’m in a far different place today than I was back then.

Where will I be a decade from now?

This question is a trap door. And I refuse to fall through the bottom.

You see, I might be more self-assured these days than ever before. I may have a better sense of what I’m capable of.

But the whole picture hasn’t come into focus yet. There’s still plenty of room to grow, to evolve, and to unlock even more of my potential.

Make no mistake, I’m proud of what I’ve achieved so far. But I still believe that the best is yet to come. And that a familiar refrain will still ring true.

If you could see me now, you wouldn’t believe your eyes.

Sunken Opportunities

How much do you know about sunk costs?

Perhaps you’ve heard of the sunk cost fallacy. That’s the false belief that you must salvage any remaining value from a decision gone bad. The illusion that there’s even anything to be salvaged in that situation.

The sunk cost fallacy leads us to hang on to items we have no purpose for. It causes us to maintain subscriptions we’ve never made use of. And it compounds poor decision making with more poor decisions.

The conventional wisdom is to ignore sunk costs. To throw out the baggage weighing us down and not think about the price tag.

But as with most concepts, this advice is far more straightforward on paper than in reality.

One reason for this is emotion. It’s difficult to make a logic-based decision when you let your feelings get in the way.

Decisions that didn’t go as planned carry an emotional toll. It’s hard to throw away the sensations that went through our hearts and minds when making our initial decision. And it’s especially difficult when money is involved in those decisions.

Our finances are tied to our feelings of security. Casting away something we spent our hard-earned money on is a bitter pill to swallow.

So, our emotions can lead us to hang on. Even when we know we shouldn’t.

Another reason why we hang on to sunk costs is to avoid the implication that we erred beyond reproach. That we failed, wholly and completely.

You see, we don’t like failure. It eats at us. It terrifies us.

This is why we’re so attuned to silver linings. It’s why we believe in moral victories.

We feel that if we can take away something from a bad experience to help us down the line, then perhaps the blunders will be worth it.

Of course, casting off sunk costs flies in the face of this theory. There’s nothing to take away. Just an opportunity to cut the dead weight and head on down the trail.

The idea echoes an entrepreneurial tagline: Fail fast and move forward.

But this might not be the right approach.

I certainly understand the benefits of starting anew. I recognize the power of progressing unencumbered by the ghosts of poor decisions past.

Yet, without a process in place to learn from our mistakes, we only assure that we will repeat them.

We will stay sloppy. We will remain wasteful. And we will build a culture that casts accountability aside.

This is not the type of world we want to live in. This is not the future we want to build.

But where do we draw the line? How do we reconcile between ignoring sunk costs and keeping ourselves from iterating and improving?

Some critical judgement is needed.

We must recognize that not all sunk cost situations are the same.

Some are predominantly the result of chance, of known risk. The forces that lay your resources to waste are beyond your control.

If you invest in a grill and deck chairs, and it rains all summer long, the cruel side of chance is to blame. Same deal if you buy a warm jacket and ski boots for your vacation in Colorado, only to encounter record high temperatures all week.

There is nothing to be learned from these misfortunes. Nothing that you could or should have done differently.

Risk is omnipresent and unpredictable. We can’t plan around it, nor should we try to.

Best to cast off the sunk costs and move forward.

On the other hand, many sunk cost situations are actually efficiency opportunities in disguise. They’re decisions you can’t have back, but might rethink the next time around.

Those season tickets you bought but didn’t use? That’s one of them.

You can’t get your money back, but you sure as heck can avoid repeating that decision next year. Cast off the sunk cost with discretion.

Same goes for any golden handcuffs situation you might find yourself in. Leaving those perks behind might be gut-wrenching. But knowing what to look for next time around can spare you the ignominy of dealing with the same situation later.

The key, then, is recognition. It’s taking a close look at those sunk costs and determining which ones are purely a matter of chance, and which ones provide an opportunity for growth.

It’s understanding the difference between letting go and learning. It’s coming to terms with the duality of purpose.

Getting to know this distinction is a worthwhile mission. One that allows tomorrow to be better than today.

So, don’t despair at sunk costs. There may be sunken opportunities within them.

The Upward Shift

Betting on oneself.

It’s become a cliche.

Whenever we expose ourselves to the uncertainty of change, we roll out that familiar rhetoric like a red carpet..

Sure, it’s a risk. But I’m betting on myself.

It’s as if our self-certainty is our superpower. As if it’s the constant that makes the changes we encounter adapt to us.

By counting on ourselves in the face of change, we feel we can overcome adversity.

Nothing can stop us. We can walk out on the tightrope without a safety net and make it through.

There are good reasons why this narrative has wings. It’s inspirational, dramatic and ultimately satisfying.

But there’s one big problem.

It’s not accurate.

You see, we can’t meet the challenge of new and disruptive change simply by betting on ourselves and plowing forward.

We need to level up.

Charting our way through new challenges requires a new set of skills. Mere survival demands growth and adaptation.

What was working before has no jurisdiction over future success. The landscape is too unfamiliar. The obstacles ahead are too imposing.

There must be an upward shift.

I have seen this time and again through my own experience.

I went from sitting in my college classes under the palm trees of South Florida to running a TV newsroom in the desert of West Texas in a matter of months.

When my news industry days had played themselves out, I moved to Dallas and switched careers. All with only a modest savings, a credit card and an abundance of hope to steer me through.

Several years later, I committed to hitting the books once again — starting business school while still maintaining my full-time job.

These were all significant left turns in my life trajectory. Business as usual no longer applied.

I had to make significant changes to meet the challenges that lay in front of me.

I had to level up.

Now, this process wasn’t always apparent to me when I was going through it. The path ahead was more of a gradual incline than a rugged cliff face.

And besides, I was so focused more on the six inches in front of my nose that I was oblivious to my steady climb. Only when I had a moment to look back did I realize I’d gained elevation.

But regardless of when I came to recognize it, that upward shift had occurred. I’d done was needed to not only survive, but also thrive.

There had been a transformation of perspective. My skillset for navigating life’s experiences had become broader and more multifaceted.

But I hadn’t gotten to this point solely by betting on myself. No, I’d molded myself into a person equal to the task of what lay before me.

I’m far from unique in this experience. Plenty of us have upped our game to meet the heightened stakes in our path.

Yet, for whatever reason, we are loathe to credit the upward shift. Whether due to ego or pride, we indulge our self-importance. We brush aside the twists and turns we endure along the path to something greater.

But those lessons, those adaptations — they’re what make us stronger. They’re what make us smarter. They’re what prime us for success.

We should take the time to recognize the change that lies ahead of us. We should embrace the learning opportunities embedded in our next moment of ambiguity.

For only when we consciously commit to leveling up do we unleash the full potential of our growth. It’s only then that we leverage the true benefit of new experiences.

So, embrace the upward shift. What lies within it make it worthwhile.

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.

Challenge Or Opportunity?

My life mantra has long been: Accept the Challenge. Embrace the Process.

It’s something I live and breathe every day. It’s exemplified the winding, often difficult path I’ve taken to get here; just as importantly, it keeps me focused and driven as I turn my sights toward the road ahead.

I don’t keep the word challenge in the forefront my mind because I’m a grinder, because I like to do things the hard way. If that were the case, I’d ride bulls around the southwestern circuit for a living, or do something similarly gritty.

No, challenge is rooted in my everyday consciousness because I’m a thinker. Adversity is never comfortable, but it can be beneficial. The key is to view the situation in the right frame of mind, and build off it.

Ultimately, it comes down to this:

Where some see a challenge, I see an opportunity.

A challenge is an opportunity to learn and to grow. But it’s also an opportunity to improvise and adapt — which can help us evolve into more well-rounded, resourceful people.

This distinction is important, because challenges are all around us. The major roadblocks in the course of our lives are, of course, well documented. But those less apparent situations that force us to innovate can often be just as significant.

For example, I’ve explained at length how I love to cook. Cooking is a challenge in itself — I’m sure even world-class chefs might agree with that statement — but cooking in an apartment provides an extra degree of difficulty. Add in my health issues regarding dairy, and suddenly an ocean of culinary possibilities is whittled down to a Bayou stream.

Do I run from this adverse situation — all the way to the nearest McDonalds? Not a chance. Instead, I accept the challenge. I improvise to make up for the lack of counter space and gourmet gadgets — making do with the rudimentary range and oven I’ve been provided. I find alternative methods of cooking burgers and hot dogs in the kitchen to compensate for my lack of patio space for grilling. I even have with my own recipe for making barbeque brisket indoors without a smoker.

Where some might have seen a significant challenge in my culinary arrangement, I saw an opportunity. And through this process of situational innovation, a funny thing has happened — I’ve become a better, more well-rounded cook.

This is why it’s important to look at adverse situations not as a fight-or-flight ultimatum, but instead as an innovate and evolve moment. There’s so much to gain from this perspective, and so little to risk.

So accept the challenge. It just might be your next great opportunity.

Better Than Perfect

If there’s one aspect of our collective behavior that will continually baffle me, it’s the relentless quest for perfection. It makes us act in strange ways, waste money on trivial things and cast shade on significant moments of achievement, due to the presence of minor flaws.

Perfection is fleeting. It’s tantalizing. Sportscasters wax poetic about it, Lexus bombards us with car commercials about the pursuit of it, brides spend the months leading up to their big day obsessing over it.

Perfection is seemingly all around us, yet barely out of our reach.

But why do we strain for that escaped balloon, time after time? What is it about perfection that makes us fixate on it, like a diamond under the glass in a jewelry store?

Is it because perfection puts us on God’s level? We should know better. Both the Bible and Greek mythology contain cautionary tales about those who had the Hubris to ascend to where they did not belong. When Icarus flew too close to the sun, his wax wings melted and he plummeted back to Earth. When people teamed up to build a tower to Heaven, God foiled the plan by splitting up the languages of the conspirators, making collaboration impossible.

What about the prospect of living without blemishes? Is that what allows our hearts to fix on perfection? This thinking is foolish, shallow and arrogant. Blemishes and flaws allow us to be different, what allow us to be free. We are not carbon copies, devoid of any sign of character. We are humans, with unique personalities, looks and behaviors. “Blemishes” may represent deviation from a mean, but they also help us connect, learn and grow.

Yes, if we are to progress as a society, we must learn to embrace our imperfections, instead of relentlessly chasing perfection. But that doesn’t mean we must stop seeking a better way, a higher standard.

We must aim for ideal. Ideal is attainable; perfection never will be.

Think about it. Did the humbling experiences of the falls of Icarus and Babel cause us to stop building or innovating? Not by a longshot. Look up on a bright sunny day in the big city, and you’ll likely see airplanes soaring well above the peaks of skyscrapers. These innovations are below the level of perfection, yet above the standard of adequacy. To a certain degree, they’re ideal.

Along the path to ideal, we learn to live with our differences, our blemishes, our flaws and imperfections. We collaborate, grow and build a more nuanced culture. Some of us even learn how to speak the languages of others — breaking through the barrier of Babel. If perfection were attainable, we wouldn’t have the opportunity to improve our society in these mutually productive ways.

So strive for ideal. It’s better than perfect.

The Show Me Moment

“Do you have any questions?”

Five simple words. One question mark. But when they were directed towards me in my younger days, I’d transform into an arctic glacier.

It all made sense. Still does.

You see, I was a shy kid, the son of teachers. To me, routine and familiarity were crucial back then; going off-script was deadly. If I asked questions when prompted to, whether it was in class, at an interview or elsewhere, it would show that I didn’t get it, that I couldn’t follow. Little did I know back then, but the silent treatment instead proved that I truly didn’t get it.

Leaders don’t follow. Leaders communicate.

A prompt for questions is not a chance for the stragglers to catch up; it’s a chance for the best and brightest to stand out. Those that ask quality questions when prompted simultaneously prove their retention abilities while upping the ante by stimulating intellectual conversation.

With apologies to the great state of Missouri, it’s the real Show Me Moment.

I don’t know for sure when I figured this out and shook myself out of my adolescent daze. But I do know that for the past decade or so, I’ve made it a point to come up with high-quality questions at nearly every job interview, webinar or presentation I’ve been to. I’ve used a combination of advanced research and on-the-fly thinking to come up with these questions, but more importantly, I’ve rarely hesitated to ask them.

I’ve also found that you can learn a lot from the way a presenter, interviewer or teacher answers the questions you pose. For instance, I find when someone says, “Great question” and pauses before responding, it means my question hit the mark. I caught them off-guard in a good way — as they now have to think of a response on the fly.

Eliciting the “Great Question” response is powerful for several reasons. For one, it shows that you’re ready to take the discussion to the next level intellectually For another, it turns the tables on the person asking for questions; instead of them taking you out of your comfort zone, you’ve taken them out of theirs. And when those gears are suddenly and unexpectedly firing in their mind, a funny thing happens. You suddenly become more memorable to that person.

In essence, asking high-quality questions can help you stand out in a productive, non-obnoxious way. You’ll be seen as a great communicator, a sophisticated mind and a person worth paying attention to. This is true not only in the classroom, conference room or presentation space, but throughout life as a whole.

So don’t be afraid to ask those questions when prompted. Seize your Show Me Moment.