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.

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.

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?

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.

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

Money Makes Us Happier

Religious leaders and Spiritual Gurus were wrong. As it turns out, money does make you happier.

A study done in 2004 by Ed Deiner and martin Seligman entitled “Beyond Money: Toward an Economy of Well-Being” discovered that money can buy happiness, and—on average—often does.

But only for the poor.

The study revealed that there was a direct correlation between money and happiness in societies that have a per capita income of $10,000 or less. Societies making less than this are on average less happy. Societies with a per capita income of $5,000 are less happy than $7,000, and so on.

But the correlation stops at $10,000. That means that communities that have $10,000 per capita are just as happy as those communities with $100,000 per capita.

In his book, “Deep Economy” Bill McKibben notes that since more money doesn’t necessarily make the already wealthy happier, why do we put so much time and energy into creating more and more resources for ourselves?

McKibben argues that since More doesn’t equal Happy then we should begin to question the momentum of our economic policy that is bent on always, always pursuing More over Better. It’s irrational, he argues, to keep pursuing More just because that’s what we’ve always done.

But I know why people continue to pursue wealth even if it doesn’t make us happier. I know why we stockpile and work and earn and produce and consume. It’s not to make us happier.

It’s to make us powerful. It's to make us strong. It's to make us safe.

What would you rather be? Happy and in danger or Secure and sad?

Either way, apparently, the extreme poor have neither.