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The idea that someone would pay another person to file hardened dead skin off their feet, paint their toe nails, and clip the little vestigial claw-thing off their pinky toe is ridiculous.  Actually, the ridiculous isn’t that somebody would fork over the money for another person to do stuff to their feet that they themselves could do; the ridiculous part is that someone actually does such things for money.  That’s a career?  It’s just weird.  And it’s stupid.  Stupid, stupid, stupid.  Seriously.  Pedicures are stupid.

Of course, you could say the same about so many things.  I mean, who would pay a grown man tens of thousands of dollars to essentially babysit other grown people all day, checking up after them just to make sure that they are actually doing their job?  Would you pay that much if the people being babysat were experienced at their jobs?  Masters of their trade?  Fast approaching the 10,000-hour mark?  People at that level require less supervision, right?  Less constant meddling?

The truth is that chances are good that there is someone willing to pay good money for the thing that you are willing and able to do.  If you add passion and a healthy dose of dedication, chances are someone is willing to pay even more than that first group of people.  Given the opportunity, most of us elect to pay a premium for the pleasure of receiving the goods and services of a true artisan.  Given the opportunity, most of us can be that artisan…and there’s probably someone willing to pay a premium for us.

For the record, I clip my own vestigial claw-thing, but that’s just because a pedicure is not something for which I choose to pay a premium.  My Wusthof kitchen knives, on the other hand, are a totally different story…

Ever notice how many defunct websites exist on the internet?  Ever stumble across deserted blogs?  I do.  Often.

Our culture of consumption and waste is out of control.  We burn through virtual resources even faster and more prolifically than we do physical resources.  One of the great illusions of the internet and technology in general is that the ether is a place of limitless resources.  That’s simply not true.  Every action we take through technology in the universe of the ether results in a reaction in the “real world.”  All the copper and aluminum and silicon and graphite and plastic and rubber and glass that goes into the gizmos that drive our techno lives come from the Earth herself.  Natural resources are consumed at an astonishing rate to put that little smartphone in your hands or that tablet on your lap.  Forget the packaging and the fuel required to move all the parts from the mining operation to your local Big Box store; the gizmo itself is composed of resources mined, extracted, drilled, and collected from all corners of the globe.  And it’s assembled in a third-world sweatshop at a human cost.

That’s the waste of our physical world.  Is the iPhone 4S better than my iPhone 4?  Sure it is.  Somehow.  But, in the grand scheme of Life, the iPhone I carry with me works just fine.  It does more than I could have ever dreamed a computing device could do when I started programming on my Apple IIc.  I took more photos with that phone this year than I had in the previous…uh…30-something…years of my life.  There are over 2000 photos on my phone.  TWO THOUSAND.  And I’ve deleted quite a few. 

Every “click” of that camera consumes energy.  It drains the battery.  I recharge that battery every night by plugging it into a wall outlet.  It drains electricity from the grid.  Miniscule amounts, right?  Like any tiny, delicate snowflake, put enough phones on the grid, and you have an avalanche of electricity that comes from…where?  Coal.  Atoms.  Water.  Wind.  The infrastructure that generates the electricity has to come from somewhere, too.  More metal.  More plastic.  More rubber.  More, more, more. 

The space we waste in the ether, in the vast new network of electrons and photons and the manufactured hardware that runs it, translates directly to waste in the real world.  Don’t think that just because your disorganized, cluttered e-hoarders paradise is out of sight and mind…well, it behooves us to remain conscious of the human, ecological, and economic costs of every byte of data we consume.  We’ve simply managed to find an innovative, 21^st Century method to perpetuating our culture of waste.

The definition of insanity I favor: continuing to do the same thing, over and over, and expecting a different result. That’s the one I like best. It’s also the on I live most.

Why do we do that? Why do we continue to expect a new and different result from the same actions and the same set of circumstances?

My theory is simple: we do it because doing anything different takes too much work. Changing the circumstances takes work. Changing the behaviors takes work. Changing our expectations takes work. Change takes work, and work requires energy, and energy sounds tiring so let’s go take a nap and what were we talking about anyway? Wait, I have something to do in the same way I have always done it but…boy, I hope it turns out different this time because I’d really like for things to go more smoothly for me.

I think that pretty much sums it up.

I heard voices the other day. They were voices I’d never heard before, and I liked it. It was refreshing. It was exhilarating. It felt…right.

No worries; these weren’t whispering voices in my head. These were the voices of people I’d never met before. They were strangers, but they had something to talk about. Mostly, I listened. When I couldn’t hold it in anymore, I jumped in and became a part of the conversation. I went from observer to participant, and that changed everything.

I recognized: this is where I want to be; this is where I can make a difference.

As it turns out, when you’re in a room filled with strangers, and you choose to use your voice, you’re in a room filled with strangers who are listening to and hearing your voice. They listened because I had something to offer. They listened because I was talking about things they wanted to learn. They listened because I had the courage to speak up and offer a unique perspective. They listened because we were all engaged in a conversation that we wanted to have. Some spoke up more than others, but everyone…and I mean everyone…was present. They listened, they considered, they discussed. Over the course of a brief two hours, we all listened to each other, and, as a result, we all grew together.

I heard a new voice the other day, and the voice was mine. I liked how it sounded. I want more of that.

Give me more cowbell.

There is, of course, such a thing as being too proud. You know you have crossed the line when the feeling of pride is itself the source of pride. Pride is excessive when it serves to bring harm to another.

Otherwise, don’t feel bad about feeling food about who you are. Don’t feel bad about doing a job well. Don’t get embarrassed when you triumph and someone recognizes it. There are many reasons to allow the positive emotions of a moment wash over you.

Just remember who you are, where you came from, and how many times you have been knocked down. Be proud, be humble, and strike a balance between the two.

It’s hard to avoid cynicism when you’re surrounded by cynical people and the things about which they are cynical…well…sort of deserve the cynicism.  For this reason, I eventually became deaf to ideas about missions and visions.  Both the terms get flung around carelessly, and the results can often be found at the bottom of trash bins, printed on discarded letterhead, squishy globes, and obsolete thumb drives.  The Mission Statement and Vision Statement are both relics of the corporate internal-marketing fad.

It’s unfortunate because there are few things as important to success as the stated mission.  Don’t get me wrong; the Mission Statement is incidental.  It’s the process of understanding, deriving, and stating the mission that really matters.  Once again, the journey, not the destination, provides the ultimate value. 

I’ve driven across the United States.  I’ve driven from the Midwest to California.  I’ve driven from the Midwest to the East Coast.  I’ve driven to Texas, to Florida, and up the coast of Lake Michigan to the shores of Lake Superior.  I’ve always had a destination.  Along the way, I’ve learned that getting to the destination is a whole other part of the experience.  The journey, it turns out, provides just as much, if not more, opportunity for learning, space for incredible experiences.  If I focus single-mindedly on arriving at my destination, I do so at the expense of the countless moments in between here and there.  What a shame that would be, truly.

Ditto the journey of your spirit.  It is imperative that we understand the destination we strive to reach.  Our goals are important.  They provide us with direction.  That’s the Mission Statement.  Planning the journey, executing the plan, changing course along the way to adjust to circumstance, stopping to let the moments happen…these are all elements of getting their, of understanding what it means to state the mission.  When you wrap the experiences up, when you take the time to make sense of all the bits and pieces of the journey…well, then you’re ready to state your mission with clarify and with confidence.

Do you know the mission?  Don’t repeat a statement, make a statement.  State your mission.  Only you can.

Upon return, I left.

I left and went far, far away. I went deep. I dissolved into shadow. Good reasons for all of it, but none are authentic. The only true answer: slipping away was easier than staying.

Too much work to get way over there, only to find myself right back here where I started. Right back here…

Funny thing about being here is that here follows you everywhere. It never goes away. It’s always exactly wherever you are. There is no going back because here is always here. Just where I left it.

There’s no place to go, no place to be, but here.

HERE.

Wake up, bud. Welcome back. The break was probably necessary, probably too long, maybe exactly as it needed to be. Regardless, come on out of the shadows. We have a mission to fulfill.

Do you know your mission?

There is nothing profound about leaving other than the fact that it reminds you that all time is borrowed. Nothing really belongs to any of us, but I suppose everything really belongs to all of us. Ownership is the ultimate illusion, the Great Lie of our Modern Society.

Most importantly, embracing this “zero ownership” state of being is allowing me to be not-so-subtly reminded that there are no guarantees when it comes to time. In fact, time doesn’t really exist at all. Existence is defined exclusively through the perception of the observer. This observer perceives time to have raced onward at a pace with which I could barely keep up.

Above all else, I am reminded that time should never be wasted. We think we have years, but we really have months. The perception that time runs on forever is flawed when we insert ourselves into the equation. The moment we enter the picture, time is shortened. Our days are numbered, our time finite and minuscule when compared to The Grand Scheme.

That’s the lesson I learned again and share: time is short. Don’t ever believe that tomorrow is guaranteed. Remain optimistic, but always be realistic. If you have something to do, then do it. No waiting until tomorrow. Opportunities are ethereal. Grab hold when you can.

Like I said, nothing profound…

Undoubtedly, there is something in your life that keeps you from making the most of each day. I’m not suggesting that it’s actively thwarting your efforts day in and day out. What I am suggesting is that this thing is always there, just under the covers, waiting for the moment to stop you in your tracks. For some of us, it rarely shows itself; for some of us it rarely lets a day go by without knocking us off track.We are human, so we are flawed. A fact’s a fact. And it is dangerously naive to believe we can ever be anything but flawed. That’s OK. However, acknowledging our flawed nature allows us to seek out our specific, individual flaws with precision. Once we set out in pursuit of those flaws, I think an interesting thing happens: our flaws lose power. So long as our consciousness pulls back the veil of unconsciousness, allowing us to pursue our flaws in earnest, then we have an advantage. Sustaining our advantage and making the most of it are two of the most vital, most important activities we can hope to undertake in our lives.Look for that thing…the thing that is in your way. In can hamper you at work; it can damage your career; it can stall your progress; it can derail a project; it can ruin a relationship; it can interfere with your art. You can easily identify it because it is the thing that keeps you from doing the one thing you absolutely should be doing. Know what you should be doing; learn what is is that you are meant to do. If you can do that, then finding the obstacle is a piece of cake: the minute you start your art, your enemy will have no choice but to stop you. I think this is the key to revealing your enemy.