Most of us spend our time here, *points above*, twenty steps ahead. Making contingency plans for things that haven’t gone wrong yet. Worrying what people will think about the stuff we haven’t made yet. Deciding what software we’ll upgrade to once we’ve reached a certain revenue, client, or audience goal.
We spend our time here because it’s easier to deal with future possibilities than present realities. Making stuff is uncomfortable. And we attempt to ease that discomfort by convincing ourselves that we can accurately predict the path forward.*
When really, we’d all benefit from spending a lot more of our time here, *points above*, in the present. Focused on the next right action.
And here, *points below*, on the big picture.
Where are you now, where are you going, and what’s the next right action that’ll move you closer?
Often, the work is shuttling between the two.
Planning and milestones are important, ABSOLUTELY, but spending most of our time in the middle isn’t helping us. Especially when we’re focused on things outside of our control, like what people will think of us and/or our work.
If you’re not sure what’s next, it pays to pay attention.
Your notes app, your camera roll, your bookshelf, your inbox, your social media feeds… these are all records of your attention. They reveal what you’re interested in, what you care about, and who you’re becoming. Held together, they just might point you in the direction of your next project.
But no need to rush. Just as you can’t edit as you write, you can’t discern what threads are worth following as you’re tracking them.
“In a way, as long as we have bad rich people we can also have good rich people. And then as long as we have good rich people, it means the system is okay and the problem with the bad rich people is that they’re morally bad or greedy or spendy… it’s then very difficult to draw attention to the inequalities of the system.”
Rachel discusses the morality we assign the social classes, the narratives we have around rich people (i.e. what it means to be a “good” or “bad” rich person), and the importance of white people confronting their unearned privilege.
I’m all for systemic critique and analysis on wealth inequality. It’s so important that those of us who have wealth—or who have benefited from systems that make it easier to accumulate wealth—acknowledge that rather than be afraid to talk about it. Living in and from fear won’t change the system for the better, it never has.
Own your story. And see if you can use your financial stability to create financial stability for others.
Horrible things are happening right now. Horrible, destructive, violent acts of white supremacy. We’re also (understandably!) seeing and feeling a lot of shame and fear.
Brené does a wonderful job of explaining why although we so want to shame people, that “othering” doesn’t lead to behavioural change. Accountability does.
Shame drives things underground, and change and accountability don’t happen there. Maybe you’ve seen that in your own family systems (pushing down or ignoring bad behaviour, pretending something didn’t or isn’t happening). Like Brené mentions in the podcast, we can see this stuff play out in systems across every level of our society, from family units all the way up to national governments.
I’ve been spending time studying how what we’re seeing now is reflective of patterns that have played out across history, and these are some questions that are helping me:
What happened? Name it. (Which requires vulnerability)
What got us here? (Curiosity)
What would someone have to believe to act this way? (Empathy)
How could we design more just and resilient systems, where accountability is baked into the whole thing? (Creativity)
I’m working hard to develop a critical lens, to be a discerning consumer and a responsible builder. I’m full of questions and uncertainty, but I can tell you this:
I will not fight fear with fear. I will not meet shame with shame. I will not put another human below me and call that progress.
Photo is the cover of Elise Gravel’s book Not Bad, seen in the window of Queen Books here in Toronto. Something about these words felt, you know, related ;).
Whether you’re leading a client or leading yourself, it’s helpful to be able to spot the difference between resistance and reluctance when faced with inaction.
Resistance is the fear we feel when we create something new. Steven Pressfield gives us this great rule of thumb: “The more important a call of action is to our soul’s evolution, the more Resistance we will feel toward pursuing it.” We don’t act because we’re uncomfortable with the unknown and terrified of what might happen.
Reluctance is the unwillingness to do something. We don’t act because we’re simply not interested. Often, this is due to a lack of clarity or a misalignment between goals, actions, and values. Or, maybe we’ve changed our minds and want something different!
On the surface, they both look like inaction. But they’re caused by different things and thus need different treatment.
Getting clear on which you’re dealing with can help you ask better questions, provide better support, and get moving.
What are we talking about when we talk about marketing? To me, a discussion of marketing is a conversation about a few core fundamentals. Namely:
How do we get it and what do we do with it once we have it?
How do we earn and maintain it? What’s the promise we’re making and how do we show up to it?
Having a brand means having a point of view. What’s ours? How do we express it in everything that we build and do?
And when it comes to our audience, how do they see the world? How can we meet them where they are?
Good marketing resonates. It’s pre-verbal. How can we communicate in a way that leverages all of the senses, connecting us with and to our full selves?
It’s a privilege to show up and advocate for a group of people that trust you to lead the way. How can we, as Seth Godin says, make things better by making better things? How can we contribute by building something that’s inherently generative?
In short: how can we use what we have to do what we can?
I’ve heard Rob Bell say this on his podcast a few times and it’s become one of my favourite prompts.
What matters here?
I apply it across my personal and professional life, particularly when I’m feeling overwhelmed or stuck. It simultaneously anchors me in the big picture while revealing what the next right action is.
More than anything, this question is a call to presence. Much like meditation, it slows us down so that we can listen to what is. It reveals where the work is, both internally and externally, and shows us where we can put our care and attention.
More options don’t always lead to better outcomes.
A blank slate at the beginning of a creative project sounds enticing, but often that excitement gives way to overwhelm and indecision. With so many possibilities, how do we move forward?
To get (or keep!) moving, it’s helpful to have constraints. Take options off the table. Give yourself limits, such as the amount of time or money you’ll spend on a project, or rules around how often, when, and where you’ll show up.
Giving your project limits frees you to get creative with what you do have.
Sometimes, narrowing one lens is the best way to open another.
When we’re in the valley (see above—super fun), our downward spiraling thoughts tend to stem from two beliefs:
I shouldn’t feel this way
I’m alone in this
We’re scared and insecure and doubting ourselves…. and we believe we shouldn’t feel that way. Because if we were really an artist, if we were really an entrepreneur, if we were truly good enough or smart enough or talented enough… we believe there’s no way we would feel like this.
Which brings us to that feeling of being alone. Our brains have this lovely way (looking at you, shame) of convincing us we’re alone in this. That no one in the history of creative beings has ever felt this. No one could possibly understand. No one can help us hold this. Or, perhaps most insidious, that we’re not worthy of help.
Wherever you are in the valley and whatever meets you there, know that you’re not alone. It’s all part of the journey—everyone’s journey.