You can’t figure everything by thinking, supposing or guessing. Sometimes you have to take action. Sometimes you just have to do it – and figure it out along the way.
Category: Life
Something worth talking about
“Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.” – Helen Keller
There aren’t very many people in this world who do things worth talking about.
Watching the telly on a Sunday night? Not so interesting. Gossiping, checking email, doing the same old thing? Not big news. Media coverage trends towards the negative, the unexpected, the dangerous. We have a dearth of good news, because the happy news is swamped by the bad news.
Sometimes people do things worth talking about.
And this is one of my favorites: I am so impressed, inspired, and motivated by Nate Damm, who walked across America and finished his journey here in San Francisco, in the Pacific Ocean, down by ocean beach. I was lucky enough to join in for the final few miles with Joel Runyan and Bekka Scott, among others — but most of the journey he did solo, on his own, wandering 20-40 miles a day along highways, single-lane roads, in small towns, and through big cities.
Check out Nate’s site for a recap (soon) and to watch the videos he takes along the way. Seven and a half months and 3400 miles later, and he made it across the entire country. Could you do it? Could you walk every day for 220 days and find your way across the states? Here are some of the photographs – and a brilliant video by Bekka Scott, at the end.
View towards San Francisco, from north in Sausalito. October 15th, 2011, 10 AM.
Bekka Scott, Joel Runyan, and Nate Damm – just past the golden gate bridge.
The beautiful, often stunning, landscapes of northern california.
Something worth doing.
This journey reminds me of Kevin Kelly’s writing in the recent book, End Malaria. Kelly is the founder of Wired Magazine. In work and life, he says that we have to do work that no one else can do. We have to do things that only we can do: Work at its smartest means doing work that no one else can do. He continues:
“It will take all of your life to find it. All, as in all your days. And all, as in all your ceaseless effort. Your greatest job is shedding what you don’t have to do.”
A lot of people talk about doing things. There are plenty of quotes about action versus inaction, about achievement and success. At the end of the day, what really matters is getting out there and doing it. Putting one foot in front of the other. Making progress each day. Not worrying too much about what the sum of the parts or being overly focused on the goal. Simple, additive, progressive, cumulative action.
The finale video, taken by Bekka Scott, shows Nate walking into the Pacific Ocean after a long journey of traveling. “I’m tired of walking,” he mentioned, briefly.
“And you know what?” he mentioned in one of the many miles he walked, “I didn’t know if I liked American before this trip.” He paused, then continued:
“I freaking love America.”
What do you want?
This is one of my favorite questions. I ask it all the time. Ask it before you write an email, before you go to lunch, before you start your day. Ask it of yourself, ask it of your friends, ask it at meetings.
What do you want?
You may want a new computer, a pay raise, someone to understand your idea, a connection in a critical area of expertise, or someone to respond positively to your requests. Maybe you just want lunch. Yet often we don’t ask ourselves this simple question, so we stumble around the world, perhaps hungry and grumpy, without thinking about where we’re trying to go. Without some clarity, our actions fail to take this into consideration.
At lunch the other day with a friend, I asked this question a few times. I wasn’t trying to be mean, or pushy – just achieve some clarity. Each time, he stumbled a bit, offering vague responses to my question and steering the conversation in a different direction. After a few minutes, I asked again. We finally whittled down the conversation to realize that for the next steps in his business, he really needed two things: outreach and support. Support, specifically defined as investors; and outreach, specifically defined as PR and Marketing. My next question was simple.
How can I help?
It’s easier to know how to behave when we know what people want. It’s easier to decide what to do when we ourselves know what we want. In the morning, before I open my laptop, I breathe and I ask, “what do I want to do?” Often, before searching aimlessly on the internet or media sites, playing a reacting-game to information that launches itself at me, I make a list. I usually write the three most important things down on my pad, and a list of people I’m inspired to write to, before beginning anything on the computer. It helps when I know the things that I want. Sometimes it’s simple: I want to make progress on this essay and have a solid draft prepared for the team before I leave today. Knowing this, writing it down on a post-it, keeping it in my mind – this helps me make decisions throughout the day.
Also, on the flip side.
What do they want?
I started asking myself this question as a parallel to “What do I want?” When I send an email, I try to understand what the person on the opposite end wants.
If you’re a wedding photographer, your clients are busy, frazzled, stressed-out brides. They want simplicity. Clarity. Someone who understands them. In all likelihood, they don’t want to make too many more decisions – they want you to help make it easy for them. When you do send communications, your brand and market should be confident, easy, reassuring. This is probably what they want. And, of course, it gets back to you want: to take their pictures (and, of course, stay in business by making a sale).
If you’re a business owner, raising capital, trying to sell your idea to investors, what do you want? What is your desired outcome? You don’t want to pitch your idea to investors. You don’t just want to have your idea be heard. You want – your objective – is to have at least one investor buy in with a certain amount of funding. You know how much money you need. You know when you need it. Do you know what it looks like to get what you want?
Sometimes we get stuck in our own way, worrying too much about the details and particulars of every step, forgetting to think about the bigger picture. What we want. What they want. How to get there, and get there quickly.
So, try it out. Before you do something today, ask: what do you want?
And think about your peers, colleagues, and clients, too: What do they want? How can you help them achieve their goals?
And – as an added bonus: if you don’t know what they want, you can always ask the question: “What do you want?” (or, “How can I help?”).
Life gets a little easier when you ask yourself both of these questions.
What an UH-OH looks like.
Toronto, Canada.
I was planning on running a quick errand. In the elevator of the AirBNB apartment I was renting, I made a to-do list: Pack. Ship. Mail. Dinner. Write. Check travel itinerary. Get ready to head back to the States tomorrow, early. I grabbed my keys and my bag and scurried outside to make it to the post office on the corner before they closed at 7pm. The light was fading; it was dusk. I thought briefly about grabbing my jacket, but it had been so warm all day. Short sleeves?
Sure, I’ll be fine.
I walked out around the corner, past the pharmacy store and over the subway grates. A blast of hot air shot upwards from below the grates and I shifted my one-arm bag higher on my shoulder, adjusting my weight. The metal ring of the two keys wrapped around my finger and I curled them in and out around the key, humming. Thinking. Distracted, I jiggled the stuck key off of my finger and–
Swish, plop, blink, click.
The keys dropped down onto the ground and my gaze followed, 100 milliseconds seemingly expanding to record every moment. They hovered on the grate edges, balanced precariously, pausing, and before I could reach down to swoop them up a blast of subway air shot up my shirt, lifting my hair upwards in a halo, my arm outstretched downwards, and the keys rolled lazily over the side of the grate, falling.
Falling. It was slow motion.
I heard the click of the keys hit the dirt surface six feet below and my mouth dropped open.
Oh.
This – this – welp. This is bad. I looked around, up at the store lights, at all of the passersby, back at my apartment.
I’m gonna need those.
Oh yeah, I definitely need those. The keys were six feet down, far beyond my grasp. The next thing I did was kneel down and press my face up against the grate and stare at the keys.
What. Am. I. Going. To. Do.
A few thoughts flashed briefly through my head: first, I can’t get into my rented apartment without them. Second, I have no telephone or internet access out here, unless I find a store. Third, I have a plane to catch in less than 12 hours. And fourth, damnit, it’s kind of colder than I expected.
I’ll get to the punch line(s) quickly: First, I managed to get my keys, with a contraption of rope, magnets, tape, and a long metal stick. Second, I am astounded and amazed by the number of people that helped me. Third, things don’t happen the way you plan them, no matter how many times you write a list down on a piece of paper. Give up, Sarah, I thought at my to-do-list-brain. And fourth, there are times when you can’t give up. There was a problem, and I needed a solution, no matter how long it took.
A curious passerby stopped and asked me what I was doing. I pointed. Someone else stopped. A small crowd gathered around the gate. They watched my keys while one of us went into the drug store, on a scavenger hunt of sorts. Another person walked down to the dollar store. One woman gave us everything in her purse she thought might be helpful – ribbon, paperclips, wire. As people walked by, some offered useful suggestions of good luck. To come up with a contraption, we made up with a number of options. The first attempt – with a ribbon that someone donated – didn’t work, because it kept flying through the air every time the subway vents went off. Another problem? The rope and magnet had to be lowered through the grate hole exactly above the keys. The first magnets we used weren’t strong enough. One solution – before we found magnets – was to put sticky tape on the side of a big wad of rope. However, getting them back up and through the grate afterwards wasn’t happening. We had to figure out a solution that fit through the 1″x 3″ grate opening – with the keys on the return trip.
It actually took almost two hours outside of running back and forth and gathering supplies. Throughout it all, I was amazed – AMAZED – at the number of people who stopped. I’m sure there aren’t too many people who take prayer positions in flimsy yellow t-shirts at the edge of sidewalk grates, but everyone smiled, curious – and asked if they could help. The time, solutions, and ideas people had were thrilling, and collectively inspiring. I laughed – I walked through the dollar store on our second trip grinning because I was enjoyed the adventure. Okay, around dinner time I got grumpy, too, particularly after the fourth time someone told me to use a coat-hanger (Sure, buddy, sure thing: do you have one? No. And, do you see how deep this is? A coat hanger won’t do the trick. Maybe 3 of them, want to wire bend?), but my mind reminded me that how you behave in the tough circumstances is who you are, and this was a minor notch in the test of mettle and tenacity. Really, Sarah, if you can’t get through this – what else will you give up on? My inner voice can be quite a driver.
Lastly, as I sit in the warmth of the apartment and think about this evenings’ hours gone awry, I can’t help but note that the tactility of the puzzle was encouraging. I feel like sometimes, behind computers, we forget to solve real problems in real time, with puzzles and pieces and objects and mass. Conservation of mass, estimating space, working with physical properties – I don’t think I’ve done puzzles like this in a while. Add in the drama of a foreign language (some were speaking French, some Spanish), an international country, and no cell phone or emergency contacts, and it was like being on Survivor – or it felt like such, for a hot minute. A shout out to Canadians and their warmth and spirit. Felt wonderful to have a crowd of thirty or so helping me get my keys. I’m now back, warm, in front of my computer, doing the things I like doing: writing.
The big design problem? Designing your life.
I’m deep in the throes of reading two books by one of my favorite authors. Before I tell you who it is, I want to include an excerpt from one of the books:
“I’m a welter of insecurities. I’m insecure about not understanding what the next person does, about not being as smart os the people listening to me, about teaching in schools that I could never get into, about running conferences where everybody is sharper and faster than I am.
When I was a child, I once saw someone in a wheelchair. My mother told me that the person in the wheelchair had been in an accident and would recover, but would need to learn to walk again. That was a revelation to me because it seemd that once we’d learned to walk, that we’d always know how to walk.
The notion of learning to walk has lingered in my mind, and I’ve contemplated the process of teaching someone to walk again. I realized that this process has a lot to do with thrusting a leg out into the terror of losing your balance, then regaining your equilibrium, moving you forward, then repeating with your other leg. Failure as loss of balance, the success of equilibrium, and you move forward. Terror of falling, confidence, regaining your balance–it’s a fascinating metaphor for life. Risk is half of the process of moving forward. The risk of failing is inherent in achieving a goal.
My life has been marked by a continual series of failures, interspersed with successes. I am grateful for my failures–because of them I had nothing to lose, and could indulge my interests with occasional crucial successes, as well as more failures so I was able to design my life. By designing my life, I have been able to choose the projects I have worked on for my entire life.”
This quote is from Richard Saul Wurman, an architect, designer, author, teacher, and project “do-er.” His work lies in the field of understanding; of making information readily understandable to others. You may recognize some of his accomplishments: he wrote the books Information Anxiety and Information Architects and founded the term “information architect.” In 1996, he created and chaired the first TED conferences (Technology/Entertainment/Design), and he chaired the conferences from 1996-2002. He has written 81 different books and he has taught at several schools, from Cambridge University to Princeton to UCLA. When remarking on his teaching, he notes:
“My opening line to my students, and a recurring theme in my classes, was that the big design problem isn’t designing a house for your parents or yourself, a museum, or a toaster, or a book, or whatever. The big design problem is designing your life. It’s by the design of your life that you create the backboard off which you bounce all your thoughts and ideas and creativity. You have to decide what it is that you want to do each day.”
– Richard Saul Wurman, Information Anxiety 2, Published 2000.
This is a great reminder, worth posting. The books are worth reading, too.
You have to decide what it is that you want to do each day.
What’s worse?
Disappointing others? Or disappointing yourself?
20 lessons from starting a project, part two: launch week.
I’m breathing again, having just launched our website project this past week. Everything was set to go live early in the week – launch campaign emails, final website tweaks, coordination with the team, announcements to be sent, facebook posts, advance tweets. I woke up on Wednesday morning grinning from ear to ear – the first email blast sent out while I was sleeping, but (who am I kidding) – I was too excited to launch this project to sleep in. I woke up at 4:55 AM. (I didn’t get out of bed that early, but I was definitely up and ready.) Sometimes I get too excited to sleep.
About the project: If you want to know more about it – it’s for designers and non-designers who love cities and landscapes – I’ll let you wander over the website at your own leisure. Over the past year, we’ve been building a resource to better understand how landscape architecture and cities intersect – and the result is a published quarterly journal and image resource for information about landscape urbanism.
On this blog, however, I write about doing things. About the process. About the ups and downs – what it’s like to figure stuff out, to work through the hard bits, to learn. This blog is a collection of thoughts – notes on the process, if you will. So here’s where you get the behind-the-scenes picture.
Part 2: Launch Day.
I’ll start with three vivid stories from the past year. This- this- is what it looks like. For better or for worse, these are some of the memories of making this project happen:
Snapshot 1: I’m sitting outside of my apartment, after several failed attempts to get in. I’ve locked myself and my keys and my phone on the wrong sides of the door, respectively, and I’m now stuck outside an apartment, late at night, wishing desperately that I were inside, in bed, sleeping. I’m not. It’s cold, I’m exhausted, and I’m slowly gaining more compassion and sympathy for the homeless people in the streets of San Francisco. And, I have to pee. No matter. 2 hours, no computer, no jacket and a homeless and cold Sarah finds a locksmith to let her into her own apartment, $200 later. Deadlines are deadlines, and I’m working, tired, behind the computer, alone. This is glamorous and exciting …
Snapshot 2: I’ve taken three sacred holidays from work, a vacation, and I’m in New York City, meandering through Prospect Park and talking with three editors about our vision for the website and our bigger visions about everything landscape urbanism, architecture – even forestry and dance. I am reminded that parks are for people, and that parks and cities last longer than people. I’m not really sure how long a website lasts, or even an idea … but physical spaces, they are the foundation of future generations. I remember why I’m involved in this. People. Places. Doing things that matter.
Snapshot 3: I’m drinking tequila and lime, laughing with new friends, grinning from ear to ear because somehow, remarkably, miraculously, we did it. A vision turned reality. A sense of satisfaction so deep that my bones and soul feel unstoppable. I’m waiting in line at a bar in this city and a complete stranger turns to me and says, “Excuse me, but can I just ask you a question?” I nod, gleefully. He goes on, “Can you just tell me – why are you so happy?”
It’s almost ridiculous. And I can’t stop laughing – because we got here. We did it.
Making things happen is beyond satisfying. It’s beautiful, it’s inspiring, and it’s down-to-the-knees energizing, because it shows you what you can do if you put a little grease to the wheel.
The Entre/Intra-Preneur’s Journey: 20 Lessons to Take With You
An entrepreneur is someone who does something. Someone who builds something that hasn’t been built before. A person or business who makes things happen. In a corporate job, a solo journey, or somewhere in between, entrepreneurs and intrapreneurs challenge the status quo. I’ve been fortunate this past year to have several projects at hand to focus on – and while I’ll be analyzing and critiquing this project for a quite a while, here’s a bit more of an inside peak at what I’ve learned and gathered along the way: the lessons from this project, part 2. (For the first post, check out part one).
- People want you to succeed.Just when it gets tough, people step in and do the most wonderful things. Embrace your peers – people want to help. People want you to do well.
- People admire hard work. Hard work is admirable. Hard work is gutsy. Hard work is courageous. When you work hard, people will help you out.
- There is an art to getting things done. I could not, simply could not, do everything on my list. Some days I had a short list of 10 big things I wanted to do, and by 12 PM at night, after more than a few 16-hour stretches, I had to put the pens and paper down and fall asleep. Glasses on face, lights still on, dinner plate uncleared – nothing spectacular or particularly beautiful. At the end of the day, despite how tired I was, I couldn’t let myself get bogged down by the disappointment of not finishing, of only getting 3-4 things done. Little by little, we carved away at the ambitious piles of work and made a dent.
- Each day, show up. Do something each day, even if it’s for a short time.
- Feeling stupid is part of the process. Feeling stupid on a regular basis is normal. At least, for me it is. The more I don’t know, the more dumb I feel, the more I can learn. I’ve spent an entire year feeling completely out of sorts and overwhelmed by everything. I’m hoping that (a) I’m not stupid or (b) I’m getting a heck of a lot smarter. Both are still to be determined.
- Learn as quickly as you can. Ask a lot of questions. The quicker you admit what you don’t know, the quicker you’ll learn. Pride has no place in growth.
- Become comfortable with uncertainty. Really comfortable.
- Frustrations can be high. Become comfortable with frustration. Learn tricks and techniques for staying level-headed even if your emotions run rampant. At times, I had to fight back angry tears because of things that didn’t go as expected – nights when a week’s worth of work was erased and we had to start over from scratch. Short of hitting my head against the bathroom wall, all those yoga exercises started to sink in, and I thought to myself (on many occasions): “Breathe. This too, is just a moment of discomfort. This too, is ephemeral.” Breathing helps.
- Plan for slow days. They happen. Don’t plan to work every day – it’s not possible.
- If you’re stuck, start smaller. Sometimes the projects and sub-projects seemed too big to tackle. Breaking it down in to smaller chunks is extremely helpful.
- Pivot. Iterate. Change. Ask, “is this working”? Test early and test often.
- No one else knows what’s in your mind. Telling people what you want is a really hard thing. Work on it. Ask for feedback. Strive for clarity.
- Disappointment is inevitable. Disappoinment occurs when your expectations don’t match the oucomes. Be sure to compare your outcome to your original state and be proud of what you’ve achieved, no matter what.
- Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I over-promised on many occasions and learned this lesson (as usual) the hard way. I had to stop saying “Yes!” and “Sure!” to things I wanted to do, because I was promising away all the time in my day, and then some. I learned how to politely decline, and how to strategize to be more effective.
- It’s okay to leave things unfinished. Focus on getting the best parts or most important things done first.
- The middle is the hardest. For me, the dip in May was really tough to get through. I sent a letter to my peers and nearly quit my project, packing it up and putting it on the shelves. I often wondered, “is this worth it? Is any of it worth it?” Doubts are always there.
- Form habits. Don’t rely on last-minute decisions. Having a rock-solid vision plan to get you through can be golden. Habits can be my savior. Some days, my ‘dumb days,’ when my brain couldn’t think through strategy, I’d switch to my to-do lists, start with the easy wins, and finish as many tasks as I could before 11am. Then, I’d take a break for the rest of the day, having conquered many small things. This habit – of doing something, even the smallest of things – always surprises me with what it adds up to.
- Surround yourself with good people. They are a tremendous source inspiration.
- It is an incredible amount of work. Don’t underestimate how much work big dreams can take. Be sure you want this as your dream before you start.
- It is worth it.
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The lessons you need most, learning the hard way, and big dreams: part 1
I’ll be honest,
My face hurts.
It might be from the lack of sleep, or the fact that my face is currently crushed against a table in a coffeeshop, where I’ve inadvertendly placed my head down for a quick snooze, and now I’m covered in drool and blinking rapidly trying to regain a sense of where I am – but no matter.
Actually, now that I shake it, my head hurts, too.
I went to the dentist yesterday and afterwards they gave me 4 advil – I asked for 2 extra – pounding headache, be gone.
… Shit, I’m getting distracted again.
Focus.
No one told me that start-up life as an intrapreneur and entrepreneur would be this glamorous, this fun. So exciting. Nevermind the pictures and dreams in your mind about making it rich and doing what you’ve always dreamed of doing – I’m sitting in a coffeeshop, sleeping in the middle of the day, boss only to myself — (and lest that sound enticing, let me tell you that being the boss of yourself is hard, taxing, challenging, and at times, disturbing) — try this on for size:
Go home Sarah, you’re working too hard.
You need to finish this project.
But you’re tired.
No one else is doing it.
True – that’s a good point.
In fact, we should make a map of all of these projects.
Sigh. Okay, yes, “we” should … I’ll get on it.
In the same vein, really – everyone’s my boss, I’m working for hundreds of people, the people that are my clients, the job that I am intra-preneuring at and being challenged on a daily basis, the team that didn’t exist yet, except now it does, because we’ve created something new that didn’t exist before. I’m working harder than I ever have, and probably disturbing the nice folks next to me enjoying their leisurely breakfast because, well, I’m snoring. And drooling. Damn it, I’ve dropped crumbs in my keyboard again. Nice work, Sarah.
“The things worth doing are things that neither you or anyone else have done before. That’s why it’s terrifying. That’s the beauty in uncertainty.” – Jonathan Fields.
All summer, my friends and advisors have been warning me to take it easy, to do fewer things, to uncheck a few boxes and slow down. I’ve got a hundred projects up in the air, and despite knowing – knowing – that I can’t keep up this pace, I still have the hardest time saying no to things that are in front of me. I couldn’t say no.
But then I had to.
I’m starting a big project – a big, crazy, dream-like project that is at the intersection of my professional interests (landscape architecture and city planning), my business and communication drives (building a website, being a writer, and heading up the communications team at my job), and my desire to form great teams and publish (oh yeah, by the way, I’m founding the organization and publication – um, wait. what?).
Ambitious? Yes. More ambitious than I even realized? Certainly. Probably – no, wait – Definitely.
This past month has been – how shall we say it – insane. Working a full-time job and a full-time start-up, while doing a few side projects and occasionally jumping into the Bay – well, it can be hard, although the word “hard” has lost most meaning to me, as I stare stupidly at white walls and try to recalibrate parts of my brain late in the evening. I never use to be a whiskey drinker, and then, now, well baby let me tell you (only sort of kidding). Part of me cringes to write this and share this, because I aspire to the “polished” version of me, the one who thinks she knows what she’s doing – you know, where we all believe that the world is a happy shiny place. I’m not one to shy away from hard work, because I think most of the things worth doing require a little to a lot of elbow grease.
I think most people can and should work harder, actually – because what’s wrong with hard work? – but this feels different.
I’m tired. I’m maxing out. I’m freaking out.
You know, the usual.
And I’ve been absent from this blog – my writing space, my thinking space – a little bit too much.
Trying to do Less.
I wrote an ebook, called Lessons from Less, and even though I sent it out to my friends and peer bloggers, got reviews and feedback, and edited it – I can’t seem to even put it up on this blog, because it turns out the one who needs the advice the most is still me. It was hanging over my head like a hundred other things, taunting me with finishing it, wanting my attention, and I finally had to say:
Look here, project. I’m putting you on the shelves. I’m going to publish you next. Not simultaneously with this project. Next.
And it seems I need to learn this lesson again and again. Some lessons we learn, we must re-learn. They are life lessons we’re bound to dance with for the rest of our lives; they aren’t something that we check off once and say, well, why, yes – I did that. They sit and wrangle with us, teaching us time and time again to learn and re-learn what we haven’t quite got yet.
I’m still learning. I can’t do everything all at once. Not at the same time. There’s a lesson there – and believe me, I’m learning it. I will certainly be releasing the e-book at a later date. It just is not the right time. I just can’t push “send” on something that’s tertiary, peripheral, and not my focus. I can’t send work that’s 90% and not be 100% behind it.
And you know how that feels? Simultaneously awful and wonderful.
Awful, because I had to say no to things that I really still want to do. Three weeks ago, I cancelled my biggest swim of the season, a trans-bay swim I’ve been training to do all summer, a solo 10-mile journey across the San Francisco Bay, because I can’t do it all at once.
I just …. can’t.
Saying that makes me feel miserable, to be honest.
It’s mind-wrenching, numbing, impossible feeling, and part of me feels like I’m letting myself down. There’s nothing quite as deflating as pulling the plug after working so hard. And swimming … swimming is my sanity, my blessing, my space away from life, to sit and be. And yet I had to call it. And say, you know … not right now. Just not right now. I spent a long morning running aimlessly and ended up down by the bay, watching the water quietly in the early morning, wondering if I was making the right decision, wistful and worried.
Awful, because I’ve now written almost two books, one e-book about lessons I’ve learned, and one book on swimming. I have aims to publish, and I’ve called it quits on each of them. Something’s not right. I can feel it. Not now. And I’ve got to listen to this instinct of mine, despite the angst of having spent so much time working on each of these projects. And saying no to my ambition, listening to my quiet feeling in my gut – it still feels really unsettling.
But what is it that they say in business, in finance? Don’t throw money after sunk costs. In life, it’s the same lesson. Just because you’ve already spent energy on it doesn’t mean you should continue to spend energy on it. And the same with projects, it is with our minds and brains. Free up that brain space. Stop worrying about things that can’t be fixed. Let your mind be free, as they say. Let go.
And then, even though I feel awful – even though this is a bittersweet struggle, a chess play I’ll debate for a bit and reflect, wondering how and what I could have done better – at the same time, I feel wonderful.
Wonderful, because I feel like I can breathe again, slowly, even though insanity is still mounting like a dense fog and I’m threatened to be engulfed in it again. But focused, like I can now focus my energy on two things: my one job, my one project, and then go home and face-plant on the bed every night and get up and do it all over again.
Exciting, isn’t it? Let me tease and entice you with the ways of entrepreneurship next …
With that said, however, I’m taking a short break here, writing only once per week (more if I can! but I had to insert some sanity parameters into my life recently) and building up some momentum to launch my big project, my crazy thing that I’ve been working on, which started out just by dabbling on the side, which is finally, I-still-can’t-believe-it, nearly ready to go live and I’m in the sidelines, biting my nails and tearing out my hair and then walking out in public, smiling, hiding that fear behind my eyes because frankly,
Frankly, for the record, I have no idea what the heck I’m doing, either. And I’m really glad you’re here with me.
Lessons from the side-hustle-turned-dream-project, part 1:
In the spirit of learning, here are a few tips and notes I’ve jotted down in my notebooks as I’ve gone through this part of the process. It’s unfinished, uncut, more’s coming, but here’s what I got for you:
- Not everyone will understand your dreams.
- You have chosen a different path than many of your friends.
- Put your health first.
- If you try to do it all alone, you’re an idiot.
- Find good mentors.
- Ask questions.
- Don’t be afraid of what you don’t know. Sometimes, that’s everything.
- Set constraints and parameters.
- Have a solid vision plan. A rock-solid vision plan. You’ll need it in the thick of things.
- Surround yourself with great people.
- Generosity and kindness are always good.
- Tact and grace are never inappropriate. Grace under pressure is learned only under pressure.
- Choose. Make choices. Cut ruthlessly. Do only the most important thing.
- Get sleep whenever possible, and it’s not always possible. Take care of yourself first, as much as possible.
- Balance flies out the window, and then sometimes comes back in short stints.
Launching a Project – and a short hiatus.
I’m going to be launching my big research project – a year-long endeavor to study the ins and outs of cities and our urban spaces, particularly the green spaces and the invisible systems that make cities work – and I’m going to post less frequently on this blog for the next month or so: I won’t promise frequent updates, or a return date (although it will definitely be before the end of September). This is me, trying to take it …. easy?
The project has been more work than I ever dreamed and more fun that I ever could have imagined. The people I work with are incredible. Adjectives fall short. There is brilliance in their capabilities, and I am thrilled, honored, and lucky that they come together to work together with me. Somehow in the span of a year, we’ve assembled over a dozen universities, thirteen people on our team, five editors, and over 40 people featured — we are launching an online journal. There will be six issues of the journal this year, each exploring the ideas of cities, urbanism, landscape architecture, and design.
Why? because where we live – our environmental context – is important to who we are. To me, we are two things: we are what we think, and we are what we surround ourselves with. Once you step outside of your brain, if that’s even possible – looking at the environments that shape our behavior is fascinating. Cities are possibly the most interesting manifestations of being human – they represent how we design systems, how we work together, they hold history in their building walls, and they change daily, yearly, and live beyond any single human life.
A city is analogous to a human body – each with metabolisms and invisible systems and throbbing, vibrant heartbeats. Cities would not exist without people.
And so, in my day job, the one that lets me explore what landscape architecture is and what urban planning is – I’ve taken it upon myself to launch a journal, and issue one is published on September 14th. This Fall, we will be going to the Urban Land Conference, the American Society of Landscape Architects Conference, Green Build, and Blog World, to name a few.
Wish me luck.
If you want to watch what’s happening, check out: www.landscapeurbanism.com, the facebook page, or the twitter page.
To figuring things out, how to start, and how to grow.
XOXO
Sarah
You get back what you give.
In this world, you get back what you give.A few nights ago, a grumpy man at the donut shop (don’t ask me why I was at the donut shop again – long week, I say) – scowled as he walked in.
Gimme three donuts! He barked at the lady behind the counter.
She frowned, and got the donuts, not saying a word. Another man, sitting on the counter on a red stool near the cash register, remarked to the man ordering the donuts: Well she’s not a very happy camper, now is she?
The grump grunted and replied, Nope! She never is. He snatched his donuts and walked out of the store, past the line up of late-night folks crammed into the hole-in-the-wall shop to get some sugar fixings.
The next lady in the line stepped up and said, softly, Hi, How are you? The wrinkled face of the Chinese woman behind the counter relaxed and smiled. Good, good, she bubbled, bopping around the trays and the donuts. Her eyes crinkled a bit between her brows, mashing her nose in a bit. What can I get you?
I am standing in this line, the third person next, waiting for a donut. I watch these interactions, and I can’t help but think – we are mirrors of each other. People reflect back what we put out to the world. Often, the grump in them is really just the grump in us.
What are you putting out there?
***
This post was inspired by a midnight run to a donut shop down on Polk Street in beautiful San Francisco, CA. I love it. You do have all the power in the world – the power over your mind, and essentially, how you frame and see the world. What do you see? And what do you put out there?
What do you put between you and your work?
What do you put between you and your work? This was my day today:
What’s really most important?
I’m no saint. Sometimes I feel like I get to the end of a day, and I’ve only made it halfway through the stuff I didn’t even intend to do. How do you clear your head and your space to allow for great work to happen? And what do you put in your way, instead of focusing on your good work?