Where Lists Dare To Tread.

Ever spent time with someone and there were so many things you wanted to talk about? Sometimes what you want to discuss isn't crazy vital or anything: they're just nice things to ask about or talk about.

Other things, though, are important. These are the conversations that are often times most important...

...yet they can happen so infrequently.

Well, here's a way to make them more frequent: bring a list.

I do this mostly with my friend/boss Eric Bryant (whose funny, insightful and spiritually nourishing blog can be found here). He's super busy but still makes time for me and so I try to honor that time by-- you guessed it-- bringing a list.

The list keeps me focused. The list keeps me asking the questions I REALLY want to ask or may be afraid to ask. It's paper clarity and paper courage and (occasionally) paper humility. It also shows that I thought about our meeting ahead of time.

And it feels really good when people I serve with bring a list as well.

I was hanging out with Ryan Gilmore-- one of my best friends and one of Mosaic's great treasures-- the other day downtown. We took the Metro to eat at this market he recommended.

Now, Ryan and I can hang and talk about anything. But this particular time Ryan jumped right in and started asking me great questions about some leadership issues he was facing. Because Ryan thought about it ahead of time we both got to move forward with who we were and how we were impacting the world.

Compare that with the occasional time when I get an email or phone call or text from people saying they want to meet with me. We show up at the Starbucks or Pete's or whatever and then...there's a long lull. Often times it turns into me asking them 20 questions for the next hour until our time is up. We hug and I leave wondering why in the heck we got together.

This isn't about being busy. This about being wise. It's not about time management but about leaning into important conversations instead of avoiding, ignoring, or (most likely) simply forgetting that face time can be the most powerful time in your week.

Bring a list. And watch your work relationships, friendships, and personal development go places you didn't know lists could take you.

Hooked On A Feeling

"Well that's the way I feel."

I hear this a lot. I hear it about whether or not abortion is wrong. I hear it about religion. I hear it about the stimulus package. I hear it about James Cameron's Avatar. I hear it about everything.

"Life starts at conception. That's just the way I feel."

"All roads lead to the same place. That's just the way I feel."

"The stimulus package is a huge mistake. That's just the way I feel."

"Avatar is going to completely suck. That's just the way I feel."

Here's the problem: Just like Alanis Morissette's Ironic isn't really ironic but just a bunch of bummers, none of the statements above are actually feelings. They are opinions.

And yes, feelings can be tied to opinions. But they are never the same thing as opinions.

Happy. Sad. Hurt. Angry. Afraid. Giddy. Anxious. Excited. Depressed. Empty.

These (among countless other words to describe them) are feelings.

These are real. These are powerful. They are ever constant. We are always feeling something. Bored. Hopeful. Tired. Shy. Embarrassed. And feelings and opinions play an endless dance together to shape the way we view our world.

But they are not the same thing.

For fun, think about a few of your favorite opinions: favorite color, favorite movie, political candidate, spiritual preference, etc.

And ask yourself:

What feelings shape these opinions? What opinions shape your feelings about your opinions?

And then the next time you give your opinion, call it that instead of calling it a feeling. But feel free to tell people what you're feeling as well, because often times what your feeling is a lot more interesting than any opinion.

At least, that's how I feel about it.

What's Your Vibe?

So I was talking to a friend the other day and I thought I was giving him a compliment.

This is what happened:

His eyes grew afraid. His brow furrowed deeply and he began slowly backing away from me.

Confused, I leaned towards him to explain even more fervently that I was trying to give him a compliment-- that I was trying to say something that made him feel good...

...and the more I tried the more he shrieked away in fear.

After the conversation was over I tried to figure out what went wrong. Did he not understand the words that were coming out of my mouth? I was trying to compliment the man, for crying out loud!

That's when I realized that we spoke two different languages. We both spoke English, but he cared less about what I was saying and more about what was showing on my face. My words may have been kind but my face, in the language my friend speaks, said "I hate your guts."

Another example happens in meetings where I try to say something encouraging and it deflates the room. And then someone else might say something discouraging but everyone is nodding their heads. It's not our words. It's our vibe. Our energy.

I'm discovering that if I want to have the impact I want my word choice is important but equally important is the energy that I bring to the conversation.

So what's your vibe? Do people ever react in a way that is opposite from what you intended? If people aren't emotionally resonating in the ways you hoped-- whether that's joy, seriousness, or maybe simply understanding-- that's probably because you haven't learned to speak their language.

You may be rockin' the right vibe but missing the right words. Or you may have the perfect words but missing the right vibe.

It takes both.

Most people are more fluent at words or energy. Which one comes most naturally to you?

For more info on creating a positive vibe check out my friend Steve's book here.

Disruptive Leadership

A study on NPR a few months ago noted that in a classroom, children with disruptive behavior have more influence in the class than students who behaved.

If you removed behaving students from the class it made no difference whatsoever in the learning environment. If you removed children who disrupt, however, it turned the class into an unstable state—often times in a negative way.

Typically we teach kids to behave, not to create.

Yet sometimes it’s better to be disruptive than to behave.

As a leader, who do you look to as emerging leaders? Do you look for the ones who behave or for the ones who disrupt?

Think Different

Often times during the darker days of grad school when I would try to preserve my sanity during particularly boring lectures (which I, now a professor myself, have given my fair share of) I would load up the Apple "Think Different" commercial on my desktop and watch it over and over and over again.



I love this ad. In inspires me every time I watch it.

"Here's the crazy ones..." I'm glad they hired Richard Dreyfus to rock the narration. If you think about it, the whole commercial is a sort of toast-- like at a wedding or an awards ceremony.

We raise our glasses to genius. We raise our glasses to innovation, to strength, to the boldness and courage of the iconoclastic spirit.

And then, at the end, if our glasses are still raised, we've raised them to Apple Inc.

The message, of course, is Think Different.

And while you're thinking different: buy Apple.

Now, I'm an Apple guy. My wife sports the iphone. I'm typing this blog on a MacBook and an older iBook is in the corner of our house. I'm a fan of quality (when I can afford it) and Apple delivers.

But this blog isn't about Apple. It's about marketing and the fluid nature of our own perceptions of our needs.

The marketing industry has evolved immensely over time. In the past, the goal of marketing was to accurately describe products in a message with the hopes that people who needed those products would intercept that message and buy the product. The emphasis was placed on where and when your message was located. Exposure was the main point.

For example, if you sold coffee, you wanted everyone to know you sold coffee. You'd probably make a sign that said "COFFEE." And people who wanted coffee would come to your store.

Of course, after a while 3 guys down the street would open up their own coffee shops. Now this "COFFEE" sign just doesn't get it done. So you have to distinguish yourself from other coffees. There are lots of ways to do this: price, ingredients, etc. But there's one way that's different from all the rest. Maybe you decide to call your coffee "the best." There's no way to prove this, right? And what does that even mean? So you make a sign that says, "World's Best Coffee."



But it goes even further than this, which brings us back to our Think Different ad. This ad, if you're like me, connects to something very profound. It connects to the essence of the human spirit-- our need for progress and to do something great with our lives. If you're like me, you watch this ad and think, "I love greatness." And watching it may even make you want to be great, too.

But this ad isn't really an ad for greatness. It's really an ad for a computer company in Northern California. At best, you could say it's an advertisement for greatness brought to you by Apple. The shift is subtle. But the (not so) obvious point is to get all those feelings of optimism, strength, and rebelliousness to connect with the computer company in Northern California. That's why they paid millions of dollars to create and distribute this commercial.

The point of advertising anymore isn't exposure, it's love. And it isn't for you to love a product. It's for you to experience the emotion of love and associate it with that product.



This is a problem: when marketing strays from the product and becomes a product in and of itself. Marketing then moves from helping to advertise something that could meet your needs (or wants) and becomes a tool to create needs and wants.

And the problem increases when the best, most creative marketers and advertisers give their lives to selling computers, average movies, nylons and deodorant.

Imagine a world where our consumer appetites are so healthy that we create a new economy based on compassion instead of mere capital.

Imagine a world where the giants of business shift and buckle not at the cost of people but in order to better serve them. Not because of legislation or incentives but because of love.

Who will create this world?

Where are the bold, brave storytellers of tomorrow who align themselves with values rather than products, who desire to create better worlds not just fancier ones? Where are the people who, while they work for Apple, really do think different and ask the hard questions, take the admirable risks and live lives not of quiet desperation but passionate activism?

For a beautiful synergy of values and marketing check out www.values.com

Risk Away...

Ever been bored in a classroom? Ever been in a lengthy intellectual discussion and have wanted to scream, “Yes, but what does this have to do with anything?!” Ever had a great idea but never acted on it? Ever want to do something...anything to make life interesting, but then got distracted by the million other things you needed to do?

Ever feel like you've forgotten how to dream?

These were the questions that formed a month-long experiment with 20 college students at Pepperdine University last year. We got together once a week for four weeks and answered one— and only one— question: what’s one risk we can take this week to make the world a better place? Some people engaged in hard conversations, long overdue. Others gave money away. Some wrote songs and sang them to girlfriends. Others moved forward in their dreams for their future careers. We laughed a lot (the risks didn’t always go as planned). We cried some (some risks went better than we had hoped).

All of us grew.

And Sparks were born.

Sparks are clusters of friends who add just a little more proactivity and healthy risk to their social circles.

They meet once a week. 4 weeks. For 1 hour. 1 question:

What's one risk you can take this week to make the world a better place?

Right now there are 8 new Sparks starting in Malibu, CA. 4 starting near Marina Del Rey. 2 starting in Whittier. One starting in Westwood and one starting in Pasadena.

For help in starting your own Spark with some of your friends email me at jason@mosaic.org.

Check out other risks from the Pepperdine Spark last year as well as other thoughts on risk at http://riskaway.blogspot.com

Risk away.

Here's to You!

Ever notice how innovation seems to come out of nowhere?

We're just minding our own business when BAM!

Iphone. (Thanks, Steve Jobs!)

I'm just walkin' down the street and POW!

Reality TV. (Thanks?)

I turn 13-years-old and HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Internet. (Thanks, Al Gore!)

But none of these were a spontaneous combustion of something completely new. They all evolved from something else.

Often times innovation seems spontaneous because all the forms before it were too much like something else (and therefore not viewed as innovative). The train wasn't a train. It was a iron horse. The car wasn't a car. It was a horseless carriage. How many smart phone prototypes were there before the category of "smart phone" became a category? Yet the people making "fancy phones" or more likely "phones that can do things no one needs a phone to do" were innovating years and sometimes decades before the innovation hits our palms.

99% of innovation is never heard of. Which means 98% of innovators are unsung heroes.

So here's to the people who invented the touch screen phone no one wanted so Steve could create the one people did.

Here's to the people who invented the horseless carriage, the car with wings, the iron horse, the calculator that filled a room, and government electronic communication. You didn't realize it: but you made the car, the plane, the train, the computer and the internet.

Here's to every professor who's given away an idea to a student who knew what to do with it. Here's to every bad idea that gave way to a good one, to every self-published book that inspired a best-seller. To every bad song that yeiled a greatest hit and to every innovator that can only find success in the success of the charismatic baking their half-baked ideas.

Here's to you.

Harold vs Dexter

"Don't ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive"

- Harold Whitman

When I first read this quote something stirred in me. Something shifted in my heart and there was a deep voice in my soul that said "Yes!" It was almost like I could feel my spirit expand within me and I felt a surge of energy and excitement.

And then I watched an episode of Dexter and had second thoughts.

Killing people makes Dexter come alive (at least in the first season). While this makes for great television (my friend is a writer on the show) it begs a bigger question...

"Don't ask what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive and then go and do that..."

I doubt Harold would give the same advice to Dexter. Or, more likely, Harold would expand the conversation to discuss how killing people doesn't really make Dexter come alive. He'd probably say that there's something more to life than Dexter has discovered.

And thus starts the dialogue:

What does it mean to be fully alive?

And do we ask ourselves the same question Dexter should when we read Harold's quote?

I mean, sure, we're not murderers. So at least we have that going for us.

And I know that it's possible for me to be fully alive being a writer, or an executive or teacher or musician...

...or is it?

Is there something more to life than doing what you love?

Because it seems like Harold's quote was penned far from adults who can't read because they've never been to school. My sense is that this quote was conceived in another world where no one dies from dehydration, curable disease or malnutrition. It has become famous in a culture where most can read, most have plenty to eat and most will die of old age.

This quote is on t-shirts, bumper stickers and religious books in this land where the most common form of suffering is experienced by the lonely artist, the apathetic student or the bored businessman.

Now, I know existential suffering is hard. It's hard for everyone. But could it be that the cure for our existential pain isn't simply to do what we love, but to become a humanity which loves people more than what we do?

What I still love about Harold's quote is that it gives people hope that life is possible. We need people to remind us of that. We need that stirring in our hearts that life can be incredibly rewarding, fulfilling and vibrant.

And perhaps there is no greater thrill than doing what we love.

But we also need people to remind us that there is more to life than finding our bliss, and that it's possible for us-- all of us-- to find our bliss by meeting the needs of others.

Maybe what the world needs, more than for you to come alive...

Is for you to become the kind of person who's alive by meeting the needs of the world.

No Need for Heroes

I don't need a lot of things.

Yogurt? Don't need it. Coffee? Nope.

And if you were to ask, I suppose I would say I don't "need" to be, you know, stronger.

Now, I'm pretty thin. I'm not much help in times of manual labor but I'll do what I can. If I were alive 10,000 years ago my genes would have died with me.

I say I don't need to be stronger, but that's because I'm not living a life that requires me to be stronger. I go to meetings, I write a lot, I go to films, out to eat, I like to travel. Occasionally I like to embarrass myself by playing basketball with my boss. None of these things require a particular degree of strength.

Lifting cars doesn't particularly excite me. Being more helpful on moving day does, but not enough for a $1,000 annual membership to a gym.

I manage my life with the amount of strength that I already have.

After all, it's not like I'm a superhero or something.

In the class I teach at Pepperdine we spend some time talking about heroes.

Whenever the subject comes up it's always a little embarrassing for me. While I have many heroes (and not just my dad-- although he's at the top of the list) I've discovered that a lot of people, especially the older they get, don't have a lot of heroes.

I had one student say to me, "Why should I need a hero?"

And I suppose we don't. Just like I don't need to get stronger.

On the other hand, if I dream of a life that requires a stronger me, then that's who I'll need to become to create the life I want to live.

The same is true for heroes.

After all, what do heroes do? I mean, they inspire us. They give us a picture of ourselves that we could become.

And, unlike a membership to the gym, having heroes are free.

But those things are only valuable if we're desiring to grow. Heroes only appear to us when we have the humility to admit that others are farther down the road than we are. They help us create a better future.

Could that be why there are so few heroes for us today? Not because we don't need them, but because we haven't yet found the dreams for our lives that demand them?

For while we may have no need for heroes, the world most certainly does.

Say 'Goodbye' to Goodbyes.

The last three "goodbye" parties I've been invited to I haven't been able to go to.

I wanted to go, but it didn't work out.

Actually, I can't really think of the last "goodbye" party I went to.

I have a friend doing peace work in Palestine that emailed me a few weeks ago. I have friends in South Africa that I tweet with. I have friends in Boston, Denver, New York, Phoenix and Kansas City that I talk on the phone occasionally with.

And those are just my friends that live someplace else. And those friends are totally unrelated to my work.

Now that we have email, cell phones, AIM, Skype, Facebook and Twitter it has become even harder to understand when we are separate or when we are together. Like friends who are dating it's hard to know how to define our relationships.


I now use the same technology that I use to communicate with my South African friends as I do to communicate with people who live 15 minutes away.

And we never say "goodbye."

150 years ago, if a family member moved from Kansas to California, it was highly likely that you would never see them again (and probable that they wouldn't survive the trip, anyway).

Today, I don't even go to the going away party because-- honestly-- what will really be changing? We'll still text. We'll still email. I'll get-- not just Christmas updates-- but hourly updates from my friends on Twitter and Facebook.

150 years ago I wouldn't know if you were dead or alive. Today I'll know what you had for breakfast.

Same distance. Totally different relationship.

I actually spent less time talking with my sister the first year she moved to LA with her family. We were used to talking on the phone, and when she moved 15 minutes away it felt weird to call her.

Have you ever noticed that as your social circles change and shift people tend to get hurt? You move to another city and lose touch with friends. You didn't mean to...it just happened.

But if you wanted to keep in touch you could have. You could have texted, called, emailed, skyped, Facebooked, or DM'd me on Twitter or AIM'd, visited, or-- heaven forbid-- written a letter. Yet you did none of those things.

And I just wanted to let you know that really hurt me.

Yes, you.

And that adds a lot of social pressure to maintain an ever-increasing Rolodex of people you were actually pretty good friends with for a certain period of time. Not that you can't still hold an affection for those people...but that affection will probably not be backed up by any concrete action.

And maybe that's okay.

What is the role of goobyes in a uber-transient and uber-connected society? What is the role of goodbyes in a world where goodbyes are no longer geographically necessary but still physcologically necessary? And what happens to our capacity to make new friends locally when our current social wattage is being used up by people from our pasts or who live in other parts of the world?

Maybe we should have more ruthless evaluations of our own social capacity, where we say "goodbye" to some old friends and to a very, very select few we say "We're still going to talk, even if it's once a year." Or maybe we should stop having goodbye parties and start having "our relationships are going to change and that's okay" parties.

Doesn't mean we can't still be friends.

At least on facebook.

On passion.

"I'm passionate about so many things."

I hear this phrase a lot. Especially with people in their 20s.

We are the generation cursed with endless opportunity. 500 years ago if my last name was Builder I'd be a builder. If my name was Spears that's probably what I would make for a living.

But our names no longer shape who we will become, and it seems as though the sky is the limit when it comes to what we could do with our lives.

It's a time of amazing privilege. And it's an incredible annoyance.

Consequently we are the generation that is "passionate about so many things." But I don't think we mean it when we say it. What we usually mean is that we have the potential to be passionate about a lot of things...but we haven't decided what those things are going to be.

And while waiting for something to be passionate about we're passionate about nothing...not even figuring out what to be passionate about.

The word "passion" is an interesting word. I think when we use it most of the time we use it in the sense that we're interested in something, or that something energizes us or that we enjoy it.

In this sense people can be passionate about yogurtland and urban outfitter sales, nice cars and new iphones.

But this is only half of meaning of "passion."

The word "compassion" means literally "to suffer with." The word "passion" means simply "to suffer."

"The Passion of the Christ" is the narrative of the final hours of Jesus' life as he is executed by the Roman government.

Parents, almost all parents, are passionate about their kids. Children bring parents such joy and they require such great sacrifice. Gandhi was passionate about Indian independence. Martin Luther King, Jr. was passionate about Civil Rights and, later, the politics surrounding the Vietnam War. Children, Independence, Civil Rights, Peace. These are all things they suffered for. These were things they were passionate about.

Artists are passionate about art. Composing, writing, painting and dancing-- while all in some sense euphoric and pleasurable-- are also acts akin to giving birth. Sometimes creating just hurts.

You know you're passionate about something when you're willing to suffer for it.

So most of us aren't "passionate about a lot of things." That will only come once we have the courage to sink our teeth into something.

The world is full of causes worthy of our full devotion. Pick one and go.

Cellphones and Hand Grenades

Watch the two 60-second videos below. One is a commercial for a Israeli phone company where a bunch of soldiers play soccer with Palestinians on the other side of the separation barrier. The other is a spoof of the commercial used with real footage of a group of Palestinians who actually tried kicking a soccer ball across the real fence. It's my first experience seeing actual footage of tear gas and grenades.





My first thought that the spoof was tragically hilarious. And if the short film wasn't created by a company more committed to selling phones than creating peace, then of course it would have seemed more sincere.

But either way, both shorts represent what art can be at it's best: a picture of what we hope the future will be and a picture of how the world really is. Vision and Reality. Hope and Sobriety.

It's also a picture of the prophetic role artists can play in culture: helping us see things as they really are and inspiring hope that they don't have to stay that way.

Imagine the day when vision and reality become the artist's paintbrush not simply to sell phones, but to lead a community or city or country out of the world as we know it and into a world we could barely dream of.

There are a few already creating this world. We need more. See one community of artists' attempts here.

When Up is Down. (part 1)

Okay, so I didn't like Up all that much. I didn't hate it. It was certainly better than Cars and I know I tend to expect too much from PIXAR films, so I'm not angry or anything.

And sure, at least it was better than Transformers.

But should that really be our standard?

Let me tell you why I didn't dig Up and then tell you why it matters: It wasn't the dogs who can't talk without special collars but who can fly planes. It wasn't that the great explorer from the beginning of the film somehow garnered an unlimited budget and sci-fi toys that would make Captain Nemo light a cigarette. It wasn't even the fact that his transformation into the villain was utterly and totally spontaneous and unbelievable (or that at the end of the film he's supposed to be over 100 years old but can still go toe-to-toe with our senior-citizen hero).

And it wasn't the annoying kid, the annoying bird, or the annoying voice of the villainous dog.

It was that so many people agree with all of the above but then shrug and say, "But I looooooved it. It was soooo cute."

I was talking with my composer friend just a few days ago and we were discussing how ABC kids Television and the Disney Channel use music not to serve a good story but to compensate for a bad one. Like TGIF's Family Matters or Full House, there comes a time in the show when the "touching music" starts that tells you how to feel, no matter how lame the previous 15 minutes were. This music is usually added to the rockin' interlude before and after commercial breaks to give you a jolt of energy before the laugh track kicks in.

Now, my friend is an amazing composer. He's done great music for great stories. And the people who do the ABC/Disney stuff do fine work and work hard...but I garuntee you they long to do something else. They'd all love to work for PIXAR. (They all probably long to work with my friend).

But PIXAR, the pioneer in computer animation, has gotten so good at creating lush, believable and completely compelling environments that they have, perhaps accidentally, wandered into a new world of story-telling temptation:

They are now tempted to do visually what Full House did musically.

And this is where Transformers and Up actually have one thing in common: where Transformers uses explosions and Megan Fox's thighs to cover up for a horrible story, PIXAR can now use fluffy clouds and cute birds to cover up for their average story.

Because lets praise it: Up, while not the greatest thing ever, is a elegant concept. And the first 10 minutes should be cut and submitted for best short film for the Academy Awards.

But I don't need to have a touching moment every 5 minutes in order to appreciate a good story, and when the film keeps bombarding me with cutesy "aw" moments I start to get nervous like someone is trying to steal my wallet.

This phenomena begins to devolve the story into a "how much can we get people to feel" game rather than a "what are we trying to say" game. One is sentimental, the other is substantive.

PIXAR is known throughout the world for it's substance. Michael Bay is (usually) not. I'm fine with one inspiring the other...I just want to make sure it's the former inspiring the latter.

The Usual Suspects.

"What's your favorite movie?"

When I teach classes or lead discussions or have to (for some horrible reason) facilitate ice-breakers I usually use this question. I love film, and so for me it's a fun question to answer and most people have an opinion about it.

For me, for years, I used to say The Usual Suspects was my favorite film. I'd even follow up my answer with "best ending ever!"

And then The 6th Sense came out.

Then I saw Braveheart, The Shawshank Redemption, and Good Will Hunting. And then it becomes more nuanced: favorite drama? Favorite romantic comedy? PIXAR film? Action flick? Favorite 'B' movie? Indie film? Horror? Trilogy?

All of a sudden it gets very complicated. Because now the conversation has shifted to "What's your favorite movie" to "What do you look for in a favorite movie?"

And The Usual Suspects answer I used to just throw out because I thought about it once when I was 20-years-old all of a sudden seems...well...inadequate.

Now, some people know their answer and it hasn't changed and it will never change even if they're favorite movie was Howard the Duck or Mission to Mars. Some people used to know the answer but a few months ago they saw a new movie that's now their favorite movie, but they don't realize it yet (and won't until they really think about it). Some people have no clue and would have to think about it for a while before they gave an answer that is pretty close to their favorite movie (but might not be their favorite movie)...

And still others have no clue and couldn't care less.

And this is just a simple question about film.

What about the deeper questions: What do you want to do with your life? What are your values? Why is Gladiator loved so much when it's just an average rip-off of Braveheart?

If answering "What's your favorite movie" is so incredibly complicated, how are we to approach these more daunting (yet arguably more important) questions?

What about our pat answers? Are they still authentic? Is what I wanted out of life in college what I should want now? Is what I wanted out of life in my 20s what I should want in my 30s? Is "what do I want out of life" the best question? Is "What can I give back to life" better? Why would I choose one over the other?

And are we to figure this stuff out on our own? Are we to read some blog, then sit for an hour or day or week and then emerge from our existential cocoons with a new awakening? Has that ever happened to anyone other than cult leaders?

Or do we need friends for the journey?

Do we need friends and communities that give dignity-- not just answers-- to the important questions in life? Do we need spaces in our cities where people are safe to ask difficult questions, and encouraged to abandon safe answers for difficult but more rewarding lives?

Teaching as a Subversive Activity

Ever remember thinking the thought in high school or college or church or mosque or synagogue:

"Why in the [insert explicative here] am I learning this!?"

Want to read a book that will make you excited and uncomfortable all at the same time?

Ladies and gentlemen: please meet Neil Postman and Charles Weingartner's Teaching as a Subversive Activity.

A book written in 1969 about education that was so good even Playboy liked it.

Here's a short excerpt:

Examine the types of questions teachers ask in classrooms and you will find that most of them are what might be technically called "convergent questions,"...[otherwise known as]..."Guess What I'm Thinking" questions. Here are a few that will sound familiar:

-what is a noun?
-[what are the books of the Bible, in order?]
-What is the principal river in Uruguay?
-What is the definition of a nonrestrictive clause?
-What is the real meaning of this poem?
-How many sets of chromosomes do human beings have?
-Why did Brutus betray Caesar?

So, what students mostly do in class is guess what the teacher wants them to say. Constantly, they must try to supply "The Right Answer."...And since it is indisputably (if not publicly) recognized that the..."content" of such courses is rarely remembered beyond the last quiz (in which you are required to remember only 65% of what you were told), it is safe to say that just about the only learning that occurs in classrooms is that which is communicated by the structure of the classroom itself.

What are these learnings?

Here are a few among many, none of which you will ever find officially listed among the aims of teachers [unless in a radical fundamentalist environment]:

-Passive acceptance is a more desirable response to ideas than active criticism.
-Discovering [or creating new] knowledge is beyond the power of students and is, in any case, none of their business.
-Recall is the highest form of intellectual achievement, and the collection of unrelated "facts" is the goal of education.
-The voice of authority is to be trusted and valued more than independent judgment.
-One's own ideas and those of one's classmates are inconsequential.
-Feelings are irrelevant in education.
-There is always a single, unambiguous Right Answer to a question.

If you're hooked, you're in luck. You can buy Teaching as a Subversive Activity here. Or you can download it for free as a pdf here.

Art goes Wow.

I love stuff that makes me say, "Wow."



You may be like me, and might actually giggle-- that's right, GIGGLE-- with excitement as you watch this. I don't know how they do it. I know I'll never be able to do it. But I'm sure glad they put "it" on film.

What is it about excellence that is so compelling? How do the arts make me feel the way that I feel?

I remember a night at the Mayan Night club when I was just feeling...terrible. Kind of sick. Kind of grumpy. Kind of everything.

And then a friend of mine, Philip, got up and did this tap-dance thing. By the time he was done...

I felt fine.

How did he do that?

Artists seem to have an unbelievable power, whether they realize it or not. Because what they create evokes awe, confusion, anger, even healing.

The greatest filmmakers, poets, dancers-- they understand this. When Steven Spielberg creates something like Schindler's List, he understands that he's not just telling a story. He's leading.

He wants his art to leave a wake. He wants his art to shape the world.

So what role does art play in your life? What kind of art are you drawn to?

If you're an artist, what kind of art are you creating? What wake are you leaving? Where are you leading people?

Make us go "Wow." But don't leave us there. Take us with you.

What else are we guessing?

Want to see a magic trick?

Close your left eye and look at the plus sign in the green box. Change the distance of your face from the screen until you're about a foot away and you should notice, without looking directly at it, that the dot in the yellow box has disappeared.

Go ahead. Try it.

This happens because the human eye has a blind spot. In the back of the eye are photoreceptors which are sensitive to light and act like film in a camera. It receives a picture and passes it on to the brain.

The way it passes information through the brain is the optic nerve, a bundle of optic neurons. The optic nerve is like a cable that is in the back of your eye, and for that reason it cannot reflect or receive information. This forms the blind spot that is a couple of inches in diameter in the middle of what you think you're seeing at any give time. No information. Totally blind.

So why isn't there a giant hole of nothingness in the middle of what you're looking at, all the time?

This is because your brain strategically guesses what it thinks you should be seeing based on what's around it. And because, when you look at the picture, there are no dots around what you're looking at, it guesses yellow.

And in this particular example it guesses wrong. So what you think you see isn't really there. Or rather, there is something there that you cannot see.

I love this stuff not only because I'm a geek but because I love having my world turned upside down. I love learning things that I didn't know before.

I love knowing that I don't always know what I think I know. What I think I see isn't always what I'm actually seeing.

Now I suppose this could be a really terrifying thought. But for me this adds an element of mystery to the world, and hopefully a sense of humility.

Knowing that we don't know is a beautiful thing. Not that this would free us from our convictions, but that it might free us from our dogmas-- religious or secular. Not that it would eliminate truth but that it might eliminate arrogance. And not that it would foster doubt but that it might foster openness.

Too many times we think we need certainty when what we need is strength amidst uncertainty. Little revelations like the one above help us take off the training wheels of our own dogmas and certainties and begin to trust the process of discovery. For the dogmatic the risk comes with holding our beliefs a little looser-- not with less passion but with less superiority. For the curious the risk is holding onto something a little tighter. Like a person afraid of falling in love, sometimes we're afraid of falling into faith, even if that person or idea seems to be trustworthy, attractive and (against all odds) interested in us.

So where are you in that tension? Are you in need of loosening your grip on what you know to be true, or are you the one who's gripping nothing, and is in need of a little encouragement to try a little of what terrifies you most: belief.

When Serving Gets in the Way of Serving

I remember a friend of mine told me a story once.

When I saw her she was really upset.

Being the kind, sensitive guy that I was, I said:

"What's your problem?"

She explained that, at her work, there were certain tasks that most people didn't enjoy doing. Since no one wanted to do it, her employer set up a rotation so that everyone had to do it, once a week.

On this particular day, my friend wanted to do something nice for one of her co-workers. So she volunteered to perform the undesirable task when it was her co-worker's turn.

"That's great," I said. "So why are you upset?"

"Well," says my friend, "He didn't even say 'thank you.'"

I thought about this for a second. I knew how that felt: to give to someone who didn't appreciate it. I could totally empathize. And I probably should have just nodded my head and said something like, "That must be really tough. I'm really sorry."

That's what I should have said.

That's probably what I would have wanted said to me. It's probably what, years later, my wife would have wanted me to say if she were telling me the same story.

I know this now. But this was a long time ago.

"I'm confused," I said. "Did you help him to be kind or did you help him to be thanked?"

She blinked at me.

I discovered later that this had never crossed her mind: the possibility that we serve sometimes not to give but to get.

Now, I hear sometimes people say that it's impossible to be selfless because if you get something out of giving then it becomes selfish. I'm not sure what making that particular point is supposed to prove, but I do know that there's a huge difference between giving and expecting something in return and giving something and expecting nothing in return.

And I know that when you expect something in return-- when there are strings attached to love--it actually ruins the fun of giving for everyone involved.

For me, being married has provided lots of opportunities for me to give without expecting anything in return.

Granted, I never take any of those opportunities...

But all joking aside, there is something incredibly refreshing (and unfortunately rare) when you decide in your mind that you're going to do something that you know someone else will benefit from without them ever knowing, or at the very least without expecting (or needing) any kind of reciprocity.

I've also noticed that the human spirit doesn't naturally drift into free acts of charity. It actually takes intentional choices to move us not only into the path of generosity, but of string-less generosity-- where we can walk away not needing anything in return.

It's not easy, but it's healthy. It's not natural, but it's good. So let's cut the strings, and what we'll realize is that those strings were holding us captive as well.

Danger is Good.

I read the most fabulous feature in Good Magazine a while ago.

They did a study on the evolution of playgrounds in the past 50 years. Turns out, that's all you can study because that's how long they've been around.

That's right: my DAD is older than the IDEA of playgrounds.

Most playgrounds today look something like this:

I think we can all agree that this playground completely sucks and is fun to play on for about...oh...5 minutes.

There's no risk playing on this thing unless you count dying from heat if you fall asleep inside it or the occasional static cling when you go down that infernal slide.

It's almost entirely safe, static and boring-- just how our soccer moms wish life was all the time.

And this was the point of the Good article, noting that these environments do not foster creativity nor a healthy preparedness for life after pastels.

But the article also pointed to a resurgence of ancient ideas of play being reintegrated into western culture. These new areas have hybrid names: Nature playgrounds, Loose Parts Playgrounds, Adventure Playgrounds, etc. But really they're just good 'ole fashioned dangerous places where entrepreneurs who care about kids let them do their thing.

They look like this:

Now, this picture is enough to make a soccer mom swallow her Doublemint gum.

These playgrounds do have supervision. But they also have completely modifiable environments and opportunities to get dirty, get hurt and the raw materials to create a whole lot of...whatever kids want to create.

Dovetail this with a conversation I had with a new friend of mine. He has had to work incredibly hard to get where he is in life and he was telling me about the tension as a father to provide a better life for his kids.

"I want them to be safe...but overcoming danger is what made me who I am today," he said.

"I love my life. I love who I am. But for some reason I would never let my kids have the same experiences I've had. It's almost like I think they can develop resilience without resistance. Or like they can become strong if everything comes easy."

He paused and then said: "I think I'm discovering that danger is good. But don't quote me on that."

Too late.

As leaders, what kind of environments do we create for others? Do we create static, safe, predictable environments or do we throw our people into the deep end with the right materials (or maybe the wrong ones?) and spend more time cheering them on as they create and less time turning them off as we micro-manage tasks that were too small for them anyway?

??? = Fun

Yesterday I was playing with my nephew, Xander.

We were in my parent's backyard (aka the Indian Ocean). The swing was a pirate ship. The dog was a dolphin. The evergreen tree was a Japanese commerce ship that couldn't carry weapons until an amendment to archaic laws crawled its way through their sluggish democracy.

(Who says you can't do current events and play at the same time?)

Needless to say, we were the pirates. And we do what all Somalian pirates do:

We make up songs that go to "A Pirates Life for Me."

As we were getting into the 32nd verse, I started to explain to him what it was like for me to play in the back yard when I was a kid.

"The trees were smaller...and there were no fences. So the ocean was like, 50 times bigger."

"Whoa," says Xander.

Whoa indeed. "A PIRATE'S LIFE FOR ME!!"

One time for a date with the lady who is now my wife, I bought a kids board game and some legos. Now, that might not sound very romantic...but it was totally awesome. I think she had a good time...and I KNOW I did.

YO HO.

And it reminded me of when I was a kid. When I was a kid, we made cross-bows out of legos. We rode our bikes for miles without touching the handle bars and we made (really bad and rarely finished) short films (complete with Miles Davis soundtracks).

In short: we played. We played a lot.

And I was wondering why I don't play as much anymore.

When was the last time we played? When was the last time we left the edit button behind and spontaneously sang whatever came to our minds?

My roommates (before I got married) would unexpectedly burst into song when one of us was in the shower while the other two got ready to go...wherever it was we might be going. Mostly Oldies. It was awesome.

I listen to NPR a lot...but sometimes I just gotta put on John Mayer Trio and turn my steering wheel into a drum set and the stopped traffic on the 110 into a captive audience.

Recently I got to write and direct two short films. I gotta be honest: I have not had that much fun in a long time. I mean, my job is a lot of fun. But storyboards, working with amazing people, laughing, telling stories. It was fun.

Legos with my wife = fun.

Short films with friends = fun.

Improv Pirate songs with my nephew = fun.

What goes on your list? And how can you add to it and live with it more often?

Serving the Future You

About two years ago a friend of mine was going through a really hard time. He was busy but not feeling fulfilled. He was surrounded by people but didn't really feel known by anyone. It's a really common place to be...

It's a really dangerous place to be.

My friend is young, uber talented, a good-looking dude. He creates a lot of positive energy when others are around him. When he moves, people follow him. But sometimes the pressure gets too high or the loneliness goes too deep, and we start making decisions that go against the grain of who we want to be.

So I found myself sitting across a table from him in a cafe near LAX. It was late.

But it's never too late.

"Right now," I said, "Your actions only affect a small amount of people. Your friends, your family. Some of the people you lead. But that's now. And now turns into tomorrow quicker than you think."

He looked at me and I remember thinking, "I love this guy so much." I know it's weird to say, but hey-- if Jason Segel and Paul Rudd can say it, so can I.

And then, before I could stop it, these words escaped from my mouth:

"You are destined to lead. It's in you and I know it's kind of a crappy deal sometimes, but that's the way life goes. So although it seems your life is small right now, your influence is going to get bigger. Probably a lot bigger. Which means the mistakes you make are going to get bigger, too. Which is why we're having this conversation now."

"These issues in your life, it's time to start working through them. The You 20 years from now needs you to. You don't want to be 40-years-old with these choices to wrestle with. The 40-year-old You will have way bigger problems, way greater challenges to deal with. He'll have a wife and kids. He'll have responsibilities that would scare the hell out of you now if you knew it, and he won't be ready unless you start serving him now."

"For the sake of the Future You, and the thousands of people you will be leading, fight this. I believe in you. I know you can do it. I know you want to do it. So do it, and know that you've got a friend for the journey."

We finished our coffee (I got orange juice because I hate coffee) paid the waitress and went our separate ways. I drove home that night with the Los Angeles cityscape reflecting off my beat-up car wondering if I said too much or if I didn't say enough. It's hard to know, sometimes.

But can you relate to my friend? Can you relate to his sense of destiny? That fragile whisper that you protect and rarely talk about that says you were meant for something extraordinary? Maybe you can relate to his loneliness or his subconscious drift into a life he would never consciously choose.

For you, it may already be late.

But it's never too late.

Cheers to Movements!

Bloggers note: I actually like the show Cheers.

But this blog isn’t really about that.

It’s about the counter intuitive emotions we feel that get in the way of what we really want.

For example: the feeling we feel when we walk into a space and we don’t know everyone. Some people walk into that environment and they think, “Great! New people to meet!” These are the more entrepreneurial types. They’re more extroverted, inclusive, generally fun. These people are more precious than gold to social movements.

Then there are others [often times like me] that have this thought, “There’s so many people here. I don’t know everyone.” It’s not social anxiety disorder…it’s something else. These people enjoy smaller groups, deeper conversation. They are more precious than gold when it comes to

slowing social movements down…

So many groups, clubs, and teams all hover around the 30-people mark because [among other reasons] there’s this innate feeling that can be articulated by people in the group that sounds something like this:

I have to know and be known by everyone in the room.

And this thought is [one of] the kisses of death for any movement.

It's not that our desires for intimacy are bad. It's that we sometimes try to meet our intimacy needs through large group gatherings.

Movements don't move forward unless those of us who long for deep connection realize that it’s actually good that we don’t know everyone. It’s good that this room is crowded. It’s good that our community is shifting from a group to a crowd.

Leaders often times need to dispel the myth of Cheers: that it's good when everybody knows your name. Cheers was a great show about an incredibly dysfunctional small group of people. [but even they had to introduce new characters to keep the show interesting].

If you're part of a any community, the challenge is to shift it from a group of friends to a culture of friendship, not where everybody knows your name but where everybody knows somebody…

…and are looking for more ways to invite others in.

Burn Out vs Burn Bright

One time my roommate in college walked into our apartment and looked at me, with my hair all crazy and wearing the same pajama, shirt, robe, coat combo I had been wearing for the past week, and said, “Jason—I think you’re depressed.”

I said, “Really? I don’t feel depressed.”

But who knows? Maybe he was right. So I went to therapy.

It was great. But we discovered that I wasn’t depressed. At least not clinically depressed.

I had a friend who was clinically depressed for a while. A few years ago she was on enough anti-depressants to kill a small horse. To me, that’s depressed.

Sometimes I hear people when they’re sad, or having a bad week or something and they might muse out loud: I think I’m depressed.

Turns out, in the words of Mike Myers in Wayne’s World, that they were just really bored.

I’ve noticed the same phenomena about the phrase “burned out.” I hear this phrase get thrown around a lot. I hear it used by people who are not burned out. They’re just tired and struggling with how to motivate themselves. Or maybe they have a bad attitude. These things are not fun—and they are potentially dangerous and could potentially lead to burnout. But it’s not actually being burned out.

I can’t help but think of how using such a powerful phrase to explain potentially solvable problems can become self-fulfilling.

What if we used less dramatic words to explain our less dramatic moods in an effort to declare to anyone who might be listening that our moods will not conquer our spirits?

In LA we always joke about fighting off colds. “I will not allow myself to get sick!” we say. What if we applied the same can-do gusto to our anxiety, our sadness, or struggle to remember why what we’re doing is important?

How might that affect our own perception of our moods? How might not misapplying burnout actually save us from burning out?

The good news is that most things we attribute as burnout can actually be overcome in really beautiful ways and can actually make us healthier people in the process.

Beauty Project

Get your own - Open publication