Round 3: a world domination summit, an army-family-team, love, and other lessons.

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An Army of Remarkable Souls…

Every year, the army grows a little bigger. This year, Chris invited 3,000 of his closest friends to join in the growing march to take over the world. With a blog that reaches millions, two best-selling books and a conference that sells out in minutes, I wonder how soon this crew will realize that we really are a dominant force across the globe—and this powerful network of achievers, do-ers, thinkers, creatives and non-conformists can collectively do quite a lot, together.

Portland is a big-town, small-city place that boasts breweries, books, and soulful people, with hints (or proclamations!) of weirdness in its variant quirks and policies. (A progressive city in almost every regard, it still has some of the highest restrictions on alcohol use of any state). This past weekend for the Fourth of July, a mid-sized army of remarkable people convened to sip from the fountain of ‘inspiration crack’ (h/t to Danielle for that phrase), engage in high-energy infusion and expression, and hug as many people as possible.

As I headed to my third reunion of the World Domination Summit hosted by the mighty Chris Guillebeau and his magnificent team of ambassadors, speakers, volunteers and passionate followers, I wondered what this version would send my way–and what I would bring to it.

Unlike the last two years, where I sat enthralled, documenting every piece of the conference, this year was a bit different for me: I was tired and under deadlines, and still a bit out of sorts from the year’s healthy dose of personal learnings and discovering emotions. This year was far different than the last two years: I wasn’t energized enough to be out in public again. Not just yet. This, in fact, was my first conference since 2012–and while I haven’t mentioned it too much publicly (and it’s not the subject of this post but I’ll definitely talk more about it later)–I’ve been subject to adrenal fatigue and burnout this year, and I’ve been keeping a bit quieter and staying in much more than the last two years. Which is why, after six months of slowing down (note: relative to my normal barometer of activity), I was feeling some excited to see my friends again, but I was cautious not to over-extend myself in ways I had done before. As a result, I was able to go to most of the speakers (but not all of them), and I definitely missed more than one of the meet-ups. In all, however, I loved it as much as the years prior and was grateful to see so many kind friends (and strangers) at every turn.

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WDS: Like college, maybe?

The first Friday evening, Chris rented out the Portland Zoo for an opening party featuring dancers and a band on stilts (coupled with elephants and monkeys) and I saw hundreds of my favorite people all beaming at each other and gabbing at each other on the amphitheater lawn. It was partly a big part gleeful reunion and another part “shiny object syndrome” – I couldn’t maintain a single conversation without seeing another person and rushing over to hug or squeeze them, leaving me feeling a bit like I’d started 87 conversations and left every one unfinished — well, that’s actually exactly what happened. People from all over the world were in the same place, hugging; new faces and internet friends and old friends mingled together in a collective takeover of the Zoo.

It reminded me of a college reunion, or rather that feeling of returning to an academic campus after a summer’s vacation. New-timers to WDS were like freshman, eager and excited to join the new space and become a part of the family they’d heard so much about, departing from old habits and spaces and ready to make new projects live in the world. Similarly, people who had come to 2011 and 2012 were like sophomores and juniors, veterans excited to come back and see so many of the friends they’d met and made the years before. As a third-timer, I was tingling with excitement to see so many of my friends that I’d met one or two years prior and followed online since. I just used the word “excited” three times in this paragraph, so if you couldn’t tell–it was definitely energizing.

But actually, it’s more like a family …

The college metaphor, however, doesn’t quite fit. Because, more than college, the community at WDS is like a family to me. New faces approached me nervously, wondering how they were going to meet everyone and do it all. “You’re not,” I told newcomers, “It’s improbable that you’ll meet all 3,000 people.” But there are so many wonderful souls with “yes” attitudes that meeting a handful of them – five, ten, fifteen – and staying in touch with them over the years is the perfect thing to do at a conference like this. Start a few conversations. Connect with people and tell them you story. Share a lunch. Compare notes on the speakers. Talk about what you’re working on (or struggling with, or proud of). Say hi in person to someone you’ve been listening to online.

For those of you who came for the first time, over the next year I bet you’ll find the magic keeps happening. It doesn’t necessarily happen in the form of a job opening that falls in your email inbox the next day (although perhaps that might happen!)—but sparks start. Seeds are planted. A few months later, as you’re working through more of your world domination plans (or quiet, far-less-glamorous plans to stock your savings or launch a product), you’ll remember someone you met or recall a piece of advice or a story that will hit you and make you smile. You’ll email a friend you met and say, shyly, “Hey, can I bother you to ask a question?” And then you’ll notice that things start happening a little quicker. A little more urgently. With joy.

Yes.

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Some thoughts and notes—A few lessons to add to my WDS#1 and WDS#2 posts

What are the big takeaways? As we left Portland and began the long drive down highway 5 through Oregon and California, I stared out at the road and the trees and basked in the warm sunshine heating the dashboard, jotting down notes and reflecting on the pieces that really hit home for me. Here’s what I came up with:

The most important thing is starting. Things only happen if you start them. And then put in the work. The happiest returners I saw were making honest work and taking action one step at a time, through all the ups and downs. If you’re looking to start something or make a change, make a tiny step as soon as possible. Maybe that’s emailing someone to say hello or thank-you. Maybe it’s putting a paragraph on a page and sending it to a few people to review. Maybe that’s putting $100 into a new account and calling it your Freedom Fund. But starting is essential. I can guarantee you if you don’t start, it won’t happen.

The quicker you can harness your energy and put it into motion and tangible outcomes, the quicker your life will change. 

Be audacious. Be ridiculous. Jia Jiang talked about how he asked for the most ridiculous things in his “rejection therapy” experiment–from driving a police car to asking to fly a helicopter to getting Krispy Kreme to give him donuts shaped like the Olympic Rings. And surprisingly to everyone, the answers were yes. Be a little crazy–you never know what will happen.

Send thank-you notes. Who really impressed you at the conference? Who did you love meeting or seeing again? Send a quick note to tell them.

Everyone has lots of stories. Nancy Duarte and Donald Miller talked about storytelling and communication, and for me I find people often trip up on getting their “right” story in order. Screw that. You don’t have a right story or one story. You have lots of them. Tell one of them, and have fun with it.

WDS feels like a level playing field–a team of equals, without a hierarchy. One of my favorite things about this conference, unlike any other conference, is how level the playing field is. Internet super-stars and best-selling authors and otherwise “untouchables” stand side-by-side with newbies, shy geeks, and dreamers—in a nod to our common humanity. Rather than our accomplishments, I feel more at home around people I otherwise might feel too shy to go and meet, and vice versa.

I’m not sure why this is—perhaps it’s because every speaker comes voluntarily, or because of the depth of friendships between so many people—but I always feel such ease connecting to everyone and high-fiving the speakers and recognizing that this conference isn’t about what you’ve done, but more about who you are, and if you bring kindness and joy to the room.

Remember that everyone is human. And what you’re feeling right now, they probably felt at one time as well.

Connecting with readers!! It wasn’t that long ago that I started my blog and web projects. The WDS community were some of my earliest supporters—I remember walking to the first conference and meeting Dave Ursillo, Adam Baker, Courtney Baker, Laura Roeder and J.D. Roth on the very first night of the very first conference—and each of these people (and the people I met in the minutes and moments afterwards) have become fast friends and long-time supporters of my work. The family has been huge and I’m so grateful to have met so many people through WDS.

This time, my third hurrah, I got to connect with several faces who came up to me, so happy to connect in person—being able to say hello and hear your stories was such an honor. I always pinch myself when I realize that someone is out there, reading my stories, and to get to see the faces that spend time reading my words–I LOVE meeting you! It means the world to me that by writing essays online, we can connect and make friends across so many places in the world.

Not everyone quits their job. I think this is really important to say. Sometimes WDS feels like a club for job-quitters, and it’s not always the right time for you or the right thing for you to do. Your life is not everyone else’s life. Sometimes it seems so hard to watch everyone quitting their jobs or starting their dreams and you wonder, “when is it going to be my turn?” Something that’s often overlooked in the shiny-internet-spaces is how long it can take to build an idea, a project, a community, a following, or a dream. There can be a distinct separation of time between knowing what you want to do and putting it to reality. It is not a bad thing to be practical and pragmatic (keeping your day job to pay the bills for a while can actually be a smart move, for example)–up to a point.

Sometimes you’re in process. In the middle. For me, so much has changed over the past two years and it’s brilliant to see each year at WDS as a marker in time for what I was (or am) working on and working through. But take the inspiration, watch out for the hangover that might hit immediately following, and make plans (and first steps) towards your next actions.

Patience, but not Never. Sometimes you know that you have to do something–but you can’t do it right away. Timing is important. It’s not a bad thing to be patient or frugal. I know what it’s like to want something and work six months, twelve months, or two years to get it. You work tirelessly, invisibly, and nothing seems to change.

And of course! A quick photo-tour: 

There are a million photos online from the amazing WDS team and Armosa Studios; I couldn’t possibly list them all. Here are a few of my favorites:

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The Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall – the main stage.

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The entrance hall as people start coming in!

WDS Jia Jiang

Jia Jiang and facing (and embracing) rejection.

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Donald Miller: You are not your failures. You are also not your successes.

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The upper balcony seating.

WDS Yoga Park

Yoga in the park.

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Lines forming outside the buildings for the next speakers.

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Darren Rouse (ProBlogger) fulfilling his Superman dreams!

WDS Danielle LaPorte Stage

Afternoon workshop with Danielle LaPorte in a church. The room filled up to over-capacity by 1:30 and we were slated to start at 2. So she gave us an extra 30 minutes of goodness.

WDS Hammock Lounge

The hammock lounge for when you need a quick break!

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Oh! Oh! That’s me and Ryan McRae and Paull Young, Kaitlyn Jankowski and Rael Dornfest of Charity: Water giving a recap of our crazy adventures and big plans for next year! If you’re going to be a part of the Ethiopia Campaign, sign up to join our collective project for clean water. 

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Lots and lots of crazy stories :) 

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The all-volunteer army of speakers and remarkable ambassadors. The ones who made it happen.

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The closing dance party (probably one of my FAVORITE parts! Humans are made to dance and move and celebrate joyfully!)

Are you coming in 2014?

It’s not cheap–I stayed in a hostel ($300), road-tripped from San Francisco ($400), bought an early ticket ($450), and packed a grocery sack of food ($150 total for the weekend including eating out)–which is about as cheap as I have been able to make it–so people often gasp at the sticker price for a weekend like this, particularly if you want to stay in a fancy hotel, are traveling from far away and spend more money on food.

But to break out, in joy, and join family that’s supportive, kind, inspirational, loving, and meet people who thing like you, weird and wonderful as you might be–it’s life-changing. It’s worth it.

And here’s the thing: nothing lasts forever. Each year is an evolution, and if you put off something you want to do for later–it might not be there later. If you can afford it, pull the trigger. Of course there are exceptions, and if you’re swamped in debt or can’t make it, reach out in other ways and mix and mingle with the hashtag on twitter, watch the videos after, and ask questions (or interview people!) and learn as much as you can vicariously.

But if you’re standing on the edge waiting to jump and you don’t jump, you’re just standing there, and the opportunity will pass you by.

Hope you’ll join us next year–or find a way to bring this joy into your life, one day at a time.

With love as always!

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Bravery

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Bravery.

Bravery is showing up.

Bravery is saying what you believe in. Out loud. To the people who need to hear it. Even if that person is you. 

It’s having honest communication with your self, your teams, your communities.

Bravery is saying no when you know you need to. It’s saying no to the wrong things so that you can say yes to the right things.

Bravery is having the courage to quit when you know you’re on the wrong track, even if hundreds of thousands of people are headed in one direction. It’s knowing when the path you are on isn’t the one for you. It’s taking that scary leap, swimming upstream, or wandering down unfamiliar trails.

Bravery isn’t fun, macho, or full of gusto. It’s not always done in one big sweep.

Bravery is all the heroes in Boston, visible and invisible, local and global. 

Bravery is having the courage to stand out on social media and remind people to collect the dots, not connect them too early.

Bravery is saying something different and showing empathy for our peers around the world. It’s not jumping to conclusions too quickly. It’s remembering what we stand for and believing in the best of us.

Sometimes bravery is remarkable, unfathomable courage by the youngest and oldest of human souls who rush forward to help everyone and put their lives on the line to save others. The runners in Boston who kept running to the hospital to donate blood were Remarkable. Beautiful. Stunning. Incredible.

Other times bravery is calm, methodical. Sometimes it looks quite peaceful. Sometimes it’s shaking off the noise and clamor and distraction and realizing with simple focus that your next steps require you to take those steps and walking forward is the best and happiest way forward.

Bravery might not be visible to anyone else at the time that you’re being brave. Bravery might be broadcast on national television (but that’s not the point).

It’s showing up, little by little. 

It’s putting yourself out there, even if “out there” is pushing past your own mental barriers.

It’s deciding that now is a better time than later.

Bravery is bravery, even if it doesn’t look that remarkable to anyone else. You are still brave.

It’s continuing to press on, even when your stomach drops in fear, your hands shake in nerves, and you collect sweat in your armpits faster than fog droplets in a San Francisco “summer” day. It’s taking a step forward in the midst of whirlwind gusts of wind and shouting into the windstorm, I’ve got this, dammit! I’m still going to do it! I have to! 

My soul tells me I have to do this, and I have to listen.

Start small. (It’s okay to start with a bang, too, but small is still very brave).

Watch for the mental overwhelm, and give yourself kindness and space to freak the heck out (although maybe not publicly just yet).

Be very kind to yourself.

And also, remember,

in your quest for bravery:

In order to do something new, you often have to let go of something old.

The trouble with starting something is that it requires a different behavior than what you did before.

We are creatures of habit, yes, but we are also creatures of continuous change.

Spring is the perfect time for creative bursting, for unfolding, for the skin-shedding, cocoon-bursting metamorphosis that transforms you towards your next self.

The world is waiting for you to grow into the next version of you. 

Bravery doesn’t always feel like bravery.

It can feel like whirl-wind, mind-bending, all-changing upset, filled with unpredictable whims and whammies, stomach upset and nervous twitters, body aches, starts and stops, trial and error, and a whole lot of messy.

Sometimes bravery feels nauseating, overwhelming, scary, and downright hard.

It’s still brave.

 

A little insider’s story–my story:

When I opened the doors and launched my writing class last week, I was terrified. This was my brain:

What if I wasn’t ready? What if no one showed up? What if nothing worked? What if this dream of mine, that I’ve been working and crafting and creating for so many months past, resulting in a big giant internet wall of silence? 

Intellectually, I know that I can do this. I’ve been ready to do this for years. I’ve taught workshop after workshop and coached folks for years. I have a chart on my wall of the things I’m leaning towards this year, and the one big thing not lined up for the longest time was creating a course for writers. I can’t confess to understanding all of the reasons that I’ve avoided doing it, but I can speculate.

It means so much to me.

I knew deep down that I would do it even if only one person showed up. I would do it even if no one paid me the first time, and I would keep honing my chops and my offerings until I found the right fit.

That still doesn’t mean I’m not incredibly terrified. I get scared! Scared SHITLESS. My brain, many weeks ago:

What if no one shows up? What if I’m a terrible teacher? What if I can’t get it all done? What if it doesn’t work? WHAT IF NOT ONE PERSON SHOWS UP? What it I can’t do it on top of the work I’m already doing? What if this isn’t what I’m meant to do? WHAT IF, WHAT IF, WHAT IF EVERYTHING???

WHAT IF IT’S ALL JUST WRONG?

So scream the fear-monster voices in my head.

Yes. They are there. I have them. 

When you get close to your dreams, fear can rage like a giant monster. Every thing that could go wrong seems to loom large. The website broke. I stayed up all night, nervous about prepping the materials. Funky characters showed up across my website. More things went wrong. Before launching the program, I waited for months. I studied stacks and stacks of books, compressing more knowledge into the course documents in order to make it even better. I stalled. And then stalled some more. I thought about not doing it at all. I almost said to myself, “Nah, one wants this. It’s not worth trying.” 

And then someone thanked me. People went out of their way to reach out and tell me how excited they were. 

Several more people signed up. The class started filling up before I had all my ducks lined up and my posts ready to go. (I have so much more promotion I’m planning on!)

In the form: “Yes. I’ve been waiting for this. This is exactly the class I want.” and “I’m so excited I cannot WAIT until the 29th!”

Holy shit. I’m so excited. And thankful. This is going to be good.

Today, with the class more than half full already, I could laugh away those fears and pretend with a big shiny smile that everything is all and well, but it’s not the truth. I’m scared, too. The fear monsters hit everyone. I don’t know all the answers. But I do love writing!

I’ve learned, slowly, over and over again, that the scariest part of doing anything is not doing it and wallowing in thought. 

And wrapping your thoughts around all those fears? That’s a scary space.

Be brave. Get started.

The best way to do anything is to do it. If you’re afraid of starting, make it smaller and simpler. Want to have a conversation with your boss about something you’re frustrated about? Don’t write a big report or delay on it. Write a quick, simple email that says: “I’ve got a couple of items I’d really like to talk to you about–including a couple of frustrations I’d like to work through. When’s the best time to chat, and is there a format that’s easiest for you?” Do it as soon as you know that you have to have this conversation. Stop by and say what you think. Look for solutions.

And be brave. I know it’s terrifying, I know it’s not easy, and I go through it all the time.

Be brave.

With big love this week,

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From love or hurt?

An overwhelming number of human reactions come from a place of love or pain. 

When someone offers you criticism, look at what they say (no need to internalize it immediately; instead observe it and ask yourself if the critic-giver is an important person or voice in your life, and how valuable it is); then: ask yourself if it’s coming from a place of love or a place of hurt.

If it’s coming from a place of love, they want the best for you and are telling you an honest opinion. It may sting, but it’s good for you.

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When someone comments on your work or character from a place of pain in their life, it’s not actually about you. That person is hurting in some way, and lashing out. The issue is not about you. Bless them, wish them well, and realize that the commentary you need comes from a place of love.

Like it? Tweet it: “An overwhelming number of human reactions come from a place of love or pain.”

 

Losing everything, losing nothing: It’s all there.

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A few months ago I was typing notes furiously into the tiny screen of my phone, my go-to source for dumping ideas when a pen and paper isn’t handy. I pushed “new note” as the ideas flooded out of my mind that morning; suddenly, as the program opened up a new screen, it stalled, paused for a long time, and then flashed and wiped clean.

I scrolled with my finger. That’s strange, I mused. Nothing was there. A flash of panic coursed through my mind.

What the…<

I closed the program and opened it again. Nope, All gone. I was standing out in the middle of the marina waterfront in northern San Francisco, in the middle of a long run that takes me out and back to the base of the Golden Gate bridge on one of my regular routes. I had stopped to catch an idea that had popped into my head, and I was standing, writing, by the side of the bay, tapping furiously into my phone. My note was lost. Worse than that–there didn’t seem to be any notes at all.

Oh, shit…

Strangely, however, I also felt an immediate sense of calm. A wave of nerves passed through me, and then continued on. I felt the angst and also let it go. In an instant, it was okay. My ideas–well over 200 notes, written to myself in various moments of inspiration–weren’t physically present, but it was okay. I had created these thoughts. I could create more. The notes in my digital archives were lost to time, but the act of taking the time to write them down in the first place was not lost. You can’t erase showing up every day, even if the product disappears. You can’t erase the knowledge in your head, the mind that’s changed because of the practice, the way you now think because of the work you’ve put in.

My dad says the same thing about jobs—even if you lose a job, or walk away from one, or if you get bought out—they can’t take what you’ve learned away from you. You get to keep what you’ve learned. The ways you’ve changed aren’t erased.

I never recovered my 200 notes. The good news is that in the time it took me to write them down, I’ve cultivated a practice of creating ideas, and I can hold onto the confidence that I’ll keep showing up and keep creating new ideas. Perhaps even revisit old ones, with more sophistication. Even if we lost everything–all of the physical things we use to string our lives together–we would still be fine.

More than fine.

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Some other fun + miscellaneous updates: 

  • Friday, March 22 is World Water Day, so now’s a wonderful time to consider donating your birthday as a way to bring clean water to hundreds of people if you’re looking for a new project or adventure. I did it last year for my 29th birthday and had an absolute blast (and made fun of myself along the way, among other things…).
  • I’m in love with Adventure Sandwich, a new project to back on kickstarter that builds an imaginative children’s world out of cardboard. The world needs more of this! 
  • While I’ve been a bit quieter-than-normal in blog world (I’m actually surprised that so many of people have noticed and reached out to say so; I thought I was doing such a good job of keeping up with posting! Honestly, however, I’m deeply thankful to you for being a part of my internet life and this community of ideas and for all the wonderful spirits and minds I’ve met through these various journeys) — While I’ve been laying low, whoever, in the interim I’ve been enjoying wonderful conversations via the growing Facebook community of wonderful minds + ideas. Come say hello

Words for walking: what kind are you?

Running Down The Sidewalk, Christmas 2012 by Sarah Peck

What’s one thing that almost every one of us have in common? The ability to walk, wander, and be bipedal; we are a species that has, historically, spent most of our time on our feet.

In my Walk + Talk adventures in San Francisco this past year, I’ve been reading literature on the importance of walking and ambulation. Geoff Nicholson’s “The Lost Art of Walking,” devotes an entire section simply to the number of words we have in our language for walking. (Before you read further: how many words do you think there are for getting out and about on our two feet?)

Words for Walking, by Geoff Nicholson

“The word walking looks and sounds like a simple, honest, straightforward one, and in some ways it is. The dictionary tells us it has its origin in late Middle English, and therefore doesn’t need a Greek or Latin precursor. Latin terms such as ambulare or pedibus ire seem needlessly fancy; the classical Greek peripateo, stoicheo, or erchomai are just downright unfamiliar.

Yet perhaps that very simplicity in English is why we need so many qualifiers, so many synonyms, or not quite synonyms, for walking, each word with its own shade and delineation of meaning. I found It revealing to see which of these words applied to my own walking and which didn’t. Tell me how you walk and I’ll tell you who you are. Continue reading “Words for walking: what kind are you?”

Keep Writing.

I’ve had a few people ask me about writing habits, what compels me to write, and how to keep the habit.

A couple of thoughts:


Don’t worry about what it looks like, or how much of it you’re doing.


Don’t worry about who’s reading it, or what they’re saying, or whether or not anyone’s reading it.

Don’t worry about whether or not it’s “the right time,” or that you’re in your pajamas at 1 AM scrawling out a couple of things.

Don’t worry if it’s 6 AM and you forgot to wash your face and you still need to brush your teeth and the coffee is cold, or warm, or not even made at all–or if you’re on your tenth cup.

Don’t worry about whether you’re writing on a bus in between trips, on a notebook without any lines on it, on a age-old laptop (mine’s called Tubby, by the way, ’cause he’s a real chunker), or whether you’re working in Pages or Word or Tumblr or WordPress.


Don’t worry if you switch topics and platforms and ideas and think that it’s all confusing other people. It doesn’t matter.


Maybe don’t make too much of a plan, other than the basic commitment to keep showing up and writing about whatever you want to write about.

Don’t worry–at least not yet, and maybe not even then–about what it adds up to, or what it will become, or even why you’re doing it.

Don’t worry about only having 20 or 30 minutes a day to write; don’t be discouraged. Keep writing, whenever and however you can. A couple thoughts a day for a month can add up before you know it. Write when you can, and thank yourself for doing it.

Don’t worry about the fact that your life doesn’t look like a “writer’s lifestyle,” or the fact that you have a job or you only have limited time each day to write. Mark Twain was an insurance salesman, if it makes you feel any better.


Don’t worry about whether or not you don’t have a bed to sleep in at the moment, or if you have a house over your head, or if the bed you do have is too short for you so you’ve got to sleep on the concrete floor in your sleeping bag for a couple of months.


Don’t worry about the people who don’t understand why you need to write, and if someone tells you that writing isn’t important or that you aren’t a good writer or that you shouldn’t spend so much time writing, by all means do it anyway, because it’s not about whether or not they think you should write, but about whether or not you think you should write.

Don’t worry about not getting enough sleep, about forgetting to wear deodorant, about feeling incompetent, about not being sure what to say.

Don’t worry if your first ten, twenty, or an entire year’s worth of posts are shit and you can’t figure out if you’ll ever be able to string together words in the way you want to.


Just keep writing. Writers write.


Remember: Just keep writing. The only way to become a writer is to write.

And all of the above, for me, has been true. And I kept writing, and so should you.

With love,

2013: Lessons to Take With Me

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Part two of my annual round-up. For part one, check out my annual review for 2012

The last year, or two, weren’t easy–and full of lots of mistakes–but incredible and far better than the first half of my twenties. I’ve mused lately, in my 29th yearwhat this decade will add up to. What have I done? What does my daily life look like? How have I changed? Have I made a mark on the world? 

By and large, the latter half of the decade was far more psychologically and personally satisfying–coming into stride with many of my quirks and idiosyncracies, delighting in saying no in order to stay at home and work on a project purely because my soul wanted to, and deciding to skip, sing, hold hands and lie on the floor when I felt like it–all of this slowly built a foundation of happiness and glee I wasn’t accustomed to after coming off of years of teenage (and early twenty-something) angst. It’s worth saying, however, that much of the groundwork for many of my leaps and bounds between age 25-29 came through several years of dedicated, isolated, and non-public personal and professional efforts in my younger years.

In short: it gets better. For those who work hard, and who are exploring and taking chances, it adds up. Keep going. Learning compounds, (the right) friendships deepen, people stop caring if you have acne or armpit sweat or if you spit a little when you talk (or they tell you, directly and kindly) and generally they care more that you’re passionately geeky about something, that you take your energy and focus it on making things happen, that you’re crafting both an identity and a legacy in the world, albeit through trial and error. If you’re in a slough–and I’ve had years of undulations, so I understand the melancholy that can come from not understanding just-quite-what-to-do-next–stick it out another season, and keep experimenting.

In the meantime, here’s what I’ve gleaned along the way, particularly lessons that have solidified over the last year. In looking back through the essays on this site and musing over what I’d like to take with me, here’s what I’d like to carry with me for this next spin around the sun.


Almost everything is far easier said than done.


It can take a year or a decade to learn a lesson and build a practice or a habit I joke that it takes me a year to learn a habit because I’ve got twelve months to try 30 days over again, and by the 8th or 9th time, I’m almost there. Yoga took me four years to get into. Running took me three years. Blogging, two years (or ten, depending on how you count and whether copious emails and live journal count as blogging). Every lesson I’ve learned I had to learn personally. reading other’s wisdom didn’t cement the idea into my soul, my being.

So for everything below, I’ll write the lessons–but in all probability, you’ll also have to learn them yourself. Continue reading “2013: Lessons to Take With Me”

2012: Year In Review

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Pelican on the San Francisco Bay, November 2012 (see below for the photo-behind-the-photo).

This is my typical annual review, a process by which I review this blog, my life (although not all of it is shared here), the lessons I’ve learned, and some of the growth that’s occurred through projects and processes I have (or more painfully, haven’t) achieved and accomplished. This review is tailored towards this blog and my work in psychology, philosophy and online community building; I’ll share each of the sections of the review in categories accordingly, and it’s likely to be a lot longer than most blog posts.

Why An Annual Review? 

I’ve been blogging here at It Starts With since May 2011, or for about a year and a half. Previously I wrote another blog for about six months, although I quickly tired of the title and theme and was frustrated with the design; before that I wrote essays for the local Examiner, many of which were cross-posted to create the early archives of this blog. Technically speaking, this site that you’re looking at didn’t exist until May 2011.

I engage in regular monthly reviews as well as a longer annual reviews similar to what Chris Guillebeau does–basically reviewing what went well and what didn’t go so well at year-end.

In the past year and a half, I’ve gone from zero subscribers and traffic and very little understanding of WordPress to designing my own website, playing extensively with Google Analytics and MailChimp, learning about subscribers, and interacting with a continuously-growing audience of some of the smartest and most interesting people I’ve ever met.

Where We’ve Been, and Where We’re Going.

More and more I’m convinced that very few of us truly understand the flattening and leveraging power of the internet: with consistent effort and publication of your ideas, you can find people and they can find you. No longer do we need to stay within the same location, job, city, or network, although the previous world constrains our thinking and perceptions of barriers more than we’d like to admit (or even understand). The best books I’ve read to this effect include Nick Bilton’s and Clay Shirky’s, among other of my favorite books from 2012.

In conjunction with this revelation that the internet allows us access and influence in ways not possible before, I’m also realizing how important understanding scale is for your objectives: and it’s not necessarily that bigger is better. Believe it or not, you don’t have to be the most important person on the internet (or in real life). The network size and community size you need is highly variable and doesn’t need to be that big–a lot is possible with access to just a few people, provided you cultivate the right niche and community. If you build a community of 100 people interested in knitting across your city, you can create a movement. The first YouTube video just crossed the 1 Billion threshold mark. The world is changing, as it always does. It’s exciting.

But back to this particular internet world, my blog:

Every year I sit down and look back at my piles of notes, writing, publication (on and off line) and the last year’s dreams. Dreams and goals are only as good as the number of times you revisit them to take steps or learn why you’re not doing what you want to be doing. Each annual review is typically a two to three-week process of reflection and discovery. Often I’m surprised, delighted, annoyed (and many other emotions) from discovering that in some ways, I’ve done more than I wanted, and in other areas, far less than I wanted. Continue reading “2012: Year In Review”

Happy Holidays 2012!

Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas and all the love and joy I can send your way over the holidays. Thanks for being here, for building such an amazing community, and for teaching me so many things over the past year. I’ve learned so much from each of you who write in, comment, and tell me stories about how you’re changing and growing throughout your lives and explorations. I feel so lucky to be able to write (and that people listen!) and that I’ve spent a year doing this thing on the side that I love doing–telling stories and being here. It’s wonderful.

It’s been an incredible year, both at my job and in editing several of the websites and projects I’m involved in, and I’m so grateful to have another internet home here on this site, to tell the stories of how I do it and what I’m learning along the way. I love writing, thinking things through, and sharing the behind-the-scenes of what I’m working on and how I think–and this year, I’ve been lucky to work with a few of you one-on-one both in calls and in the month-long Start Something Program. I’m blown away by the incredible people I get to meet and interact with.

You, seriously, are the best. I hope you all know how wonderful you are. I want to highlight some of the amazing people I’ve gotten to work with, as a quick nod to all of you and your talented ways:

  • Krista, who explores the everyday human experiences and  “response crafting” (I love this term!) … who doubles down as an IT Consultant by day and philosopher-doer by night;
  • Jennifer, whose backstory is so touching and who has such grace and confidence; she’s building a platform and website called “The Health Sessions,” looking at how to achieve your dreams while dealing with chronic illness (check out her Facebook page, and watch for her new website coming soon);
  • Lauren, who works in social media in New Orleans and blogs about travel, work and love at Mermaid Chronicles. (And my personal favorite: her story of landing a job via a story of carrying a surfboard through the subways of New York. Yes!)
  • Lisa, an all-around “Advocate for Awesome,” who is a Higher-Ed power-punch and triple threat through her talents in speaking, writing, and intrapreneurial mindset–and a contagious zest for growth and learning.
  • And so many more. There are some goodies still being crafted behind-the-scenes, and I can’t wait to see (and support) so many of you. Continue reading “Happy Holidays 2012!”

Gratitude, Holiday Cheer + Post-Thanksgiving Epic Giveaways.

Congratulations to Melissa for winning a copy of Shane Mac’s book, “Stop With The BS” and to Claire and Anne for winning spots to Molly Mahar’s Holiday Council (which starts Monday, November 26th– join me there! I’ll be on the interviews and on as many calls as possible). I’ve been hearing wonderful reviews of the book and so many of you have reached out to say how much you like the layout and design: thank you! I’m SO GLAD!

Also, stay tuned because I STILL have LOTS more to give away, even *after* this post, and this post is a big one. Nuts, right? Happy Holidays to all of you. 

Gratitude, for all of you.

As I write on this blog and interact with so many people via email and in the comments, I find myself overwhelmed. Overwhelmed, mostly with gratitude. Your letters, emails, comments, and positive energy make me feel so lucky. From the bottom of my big, deep, water-loving heart:

Thank you.

You are all wonderful. Thank you.

Thank you for supporting me in the Charity Swim we did earlier this year, thank you for participating so actively in this blog, thank you for surprising me, thank you for teaching me. Thank you for all of your wonderful comments about the recently-launched book, and for everything you do. I appreciate it, more than you probably know.

And in the name of gratitude, I’ve put together my first “Epic Big Fat Delicious Wonderful Holiday Sale.”** 

(The name needs a little work, right? A free present for someone who comes up with a better name for what I’m doing today, deal? Deal. Leave a note in the comments and I’ll send you something special if I like it). 

The writing on this website is all free–all of the essays, thoughts, wandering, questions, ideas and inspiration. I write because I have to, because it’s in my soul to write, and my writing ritual is to open up a notebook or a computer every time I have an idea, sometimes multiple times a day. I’ve been known to obsessively type into my phone new ideas whenever I’m out and about, drafting new thoughts. Beyond the prolific nature of this site, however, there are also lots of ways to work with me for people who want more advanced content and specialized one-on-one time. For those of you that have been wanting to work with me, check it out. There’s LOTS of good stuff coming at you today: Continue reading “Gratitude, Holiday Cheer + Post-Thanksgiving Epic Giveaways.”