Typing that, reading that, and saying that out-loud still feels surreal. But by this time next week I won’t be writing at 5:30am, I’ll likely be holding my daughter, or changing a diaper, or grasping to just one more moment of sleep.

I’m confident now, transitioning from talking about being a parent to actually being one, that absolutely nothing can prepare you for this. I have no idea what I am about to be in for. I have no clue what I’m doing.

But I’ve been here before – no, not in an “about to be a dad” kind of way. But in an “I have no idea what I’m doing” sense. In many ways, as an entrepreneur who was tossed like a hand grenade into business ownership during one of the worst economic recessions in history, I’m here every day.

Learning. Fucking up. Trying. Tinkering. Failing. Growing.

And through the unknown, I’ve discovered interests and opportunities and things I’m truly passionate about. I’ve had amazing opportunities to travel the country, meet amazing people, and do the work that I love. Things that can truly only be discovered at the other end of that dark tunnel of uncertainty.

I’ve learned exponentially more about myself in the past seven years than I had learned in 24 years prior – and it’s a credit to huge life moments: Getting married, starting a business, running a business, buying a home, traveling around the country, experiencing the loss of loved ones and now…the joy of welcoming a little girl into the world.

For the past few weeks I’ve been telling myself, “This is the last time I’ll _____”. You can fill in the blank with any number of things. From having a quiet dinner with my wife to getting a full night’s sleep. Having a beer with friends to going on an early morning run. Inevitably, it’s felt like I’ve had to “pack everything in” to these last moments before life take a dramatic shift.

But now, so close to that shift happening, my mindset is pivoting from “This it the last time I’ll ______” to “This is the first time I’ll _____”.

The first time I’ll see my daughter. The first time I’ll walk around the neighborhood with her. The first time my family and friends will meet her. Yes, even the first diaper change. The first time she’ll call her “Mom”. The first time she’ll tell me she loves me. The first day of school. The first date. The first job. The list goes on and on and on.

The first time you do anything, of course, is terrifying. But thinking back to other “first times” in life, they represent these memorable, historic, and overwhelmingly beautiful moments in time.

And now, it’s not about my first. They’ll be her firsts and our firsts. My job – the most important job I’ll ever have – is to make sure that she experiences them, the pains and the joys, learns from them, and has the best possible life I can give her.

Today is the last Friday I’ll ever write without her being here with me. But now, more than ever, I can’t wait for the first Friday of the rest of our lives together.

The post Lasts & Firsts. appeared first on Life Without Pants.

Over the next several weeks I put together an outline, an introduction, and a “sample chapter”. The publisher’s rep and I went back and forth through an editing process and ultimately, when decision-day came, I was told they’d gone in a different direction. A big fat “no” – which I’ll be honest, in that moment, really sucked.

The first person I told was my wife. I had printed out the sample chapter I wrote and gave it to her to read a week earlier – and remember, when I found out they weren’t going with me, ripping those pieces of paper in half and throwing them in the trash. It was in the midst of that frustration and self-doubt that my wife said, “You should write it anyway. Do it anyway”. 

It’s taken me about 12 weeks to truly come to the realization that maybe I should. That maybe this deserves to be written – to be out in the world. So I suppose this is my first step. Today I’m sharing with you the sample chapter I sent to the publisher, entitled, “How to Make a Dent in the Universe” – which, in my outline, was set to be the final chapter. I hope you enjoy, and I hope you’ll stick around as I continue to navigate my own writing journey – I can’t promise it will always be the best writing, but I can guarantee I’ll keep going.

That in the face of “no” – even then, especially then, I’ll do it anyway.

———————

How to Make a Dent in the Universe

Blink. Blink. Blink.

“How do you summarize in 500 words the book you’ve been waiting your whole life to write?”

This was what was running through my head as I sat down to write the words you’re now reading. Starting at a blank page – the flashing cursor just begging me to say something, anything. But before I could get the right words down – hell – before I could say anything at all, I, of course, let my fear and doubt creep in.

In times like these, it may seem like where you are and where you want to be are light-years apart. You may believe that your big dreams are dreams that will never become reality. You’ll toss around questions like:

“What am I doing?

Will anyone care?

What’s the point?”

That’s because we live in a world that leads with the finished, filtered product.

Instagram encourages us to put cool filters on our otherwise uncool photos. Facebook is rife with updates about how awesome everything is. In the “biz” we call these “#humblebrags” – you know what I’m talking about, those passive, “Oh, just working on my novel” updates that make you stop and reassess your life’s purpose – or, if you’re like me, you go and post an even COOLER tight-angled shot of your craft beer at sunset just to show how cool YOUR life is. Oh, and by the way, I’m working on TWO novels. Beat that.

But everyone’s awesome ending – the great final products we’re inundated with day in and day out (yes, even that incredibly awesome photo of your one friend’s cat) – all started as humble beginnings. Everyone, even the most brilliant inspiring minds, started their respective journey with a blank page. Sitting there – just like you and I – staring at that ever-so-intimidating blank canvas, begging us to paint our masterpiece.

Painting the first brushstroke

A poet by the name of Eddie Cabbage wrote:

“The puzzle piece that completes a masterpiece is always the first sentence, the first brushstroke of paint, or the first note played on a jazz piano.”

In 1508, Michelangelo was met with a blank canvas when he painted his first strokes of the Sistine Chapel ceiling, what is now one of the most iconic, creative masterpieces of all time. In 2003, Mark Zuckerberg was met with a blank canvas as he began writing the code for FaceMash – which would eventually become our beloved Facebook. In 1955, Rosa Parks was met with a blank canvas when she refused to get up from her seat on the bus that effectively ushered in one of the most important revolutions in history.

But here’s the thing. Michelangelo had no idea when he painted his first stroke that he’d end up with one of the most recognized works of art in history. Mark Zuckerberg couldn’t have possibly fathomed that FaceMash (what a name, by the way) would end up with over a billion (with a “b”) users in 10 years and would be the most widely used social platform in the world. Rosa Parks had no idea that in that exact moment, on that exact bus, she’d be catalytic in bringing equality to an entire race of people.

They did know that any impactful, meaningful, historical “finish” comes from a small beginning. For you and I, it’s often the fear of not knowing how we’ll finish or where we’ll end up that keeps us from starting. In a world that encourages us to begin with the end in mind, we get stuck stifling the most important thing: Taking the first step. The first sentence. The first note. The first brushstroke.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

As I continued to stare at the blinking cursor with not one profound thought coming to mind, I thought about one of my favorite quotes from David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas:

“All revolutions are the sheerest fantasy until they happen; then they become historical inevitabilities.”

I’m afraid. You’re afraid. You’re afraid that everything you do, all the work you put in, all the hustle and effort will amount to very little impact. That you won’t matter. That you won’t make a difference. That you won’t leave this life having done something great. That it simply won’t work.

In our collective pursuit of purpose, what we most want is to leave a lasting legacy. We get clouded along the way because the idea of “legacy” seems so grand when all you’re looking at is a blank document, wondering how to type out the first few sentences.

Sometimes – most times – it’s not about taking the proverbial “leap” we hear so much about. Rather, it’s about taking one small step. Then another. Then one more. Until we turn our fantasies into tangible realities.

Christopher Columbus’ First Step (no, not on Plymouth Rock)

We all know the story of the Mayflower landing on Plymouth Rock. But we don’t often hear about the first steps Columbus took in simply trying to convince his friends and, more importantly, the royal court of Portugal that he wasn’t bat-shit crazy, that the world was, in fact, round, and that a person could set sail from one side and journey back around to the other.

That’s because this idea, while proposed by others including Ptolemy and Marco Polo, was unheard of at the time. And while not much these days is entirely unheard of, there are certainly ideas presented, discussed, and shared with the world that at first sound absolutely insane.

Christopher Columbus withstood a barrage of ridicule and disbelief from others before presenting his idea to King John II, who (you guessed it), rejected the idea and the possibility of the world being round.

But these small steps continued leading Columbus to his next and most important moment, a presentation to the King and Queen of Spain. While his initial attempts to impress and convince King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella fell a bit short, they, unlike everyone else, did not entirely reject Columbus’ proposal. With the desire to catch up to Portugal’s power and influence, this chance of epic discovery offered them a grand opportunity.

Sometimes along your quest for purpose and success, you need others to take a chance on you. You need someone else to see the potential you may not even see in yourself. Yes, like Lennon and McCartney so aptly put it, we get by with a little help from our friends.

Soon after Columbus’ presentation, Spain’s King and Queen agreed to support and finance the expedition. From here, Columbus continued the uphill climb of convincing an entire nation to support his cross-Atlantic adventure. Not unlike a new startup in today’s world pitching investors and supports, Columbus needed the support of others – the support of many – to turn his vision, his dream, and his beliefs into a reality. In April 1492, after many, many more discussions, presentations, and negotiations, Spain provided Columbus with everything he needed to set sail. And set sail he did.

Intention is absolutely nothing without action.

The best (and only) way to make things happen – to make history – is to get moving and start doing. Seth Godin (a pretty smart dude and one of my favorite writers – seriously, if you haven’t read his stuff go to your local bookstore and grab a copy of Purple Cow, Linchpin, or Poke the Box) wrote something on his blog a few years back that I bookmarked and read when I’m feeling stuck (that is, when I’m not watching reruns of Boy Meets World).

Godin writes:

“There’s never been a better opportunity to step up and make an impact, while we’ve got the chance. This generation, this decade, right now, there are more opportunities to connect and do art than ever before. Maybe even today. It’s pretty easy to decide to roll with the punches, to look at the enormity of natural disaster and choose to hunker down and do less. It’s more important than ever, I think, to persist and make a dent in the universe instead.”

Seth wrote this a few days after Hurricane Sandy –  the deadliest and most destructive hurricane of the 2012 Atlantic hurricane season, most well known for the devastation of the Jersey Shore and Atlantic City.

If you’re like me, there have been times when you’ve done nothing because you think it’s not enough.

Why give twenty dollars to a cause that needs twenty-million? Why write a book if everyone in the world isn’t going to read it? Why start a company if it’s not going to be the next billion dollar enterprise?

In the pursuit of “doing something great”, what if your contribution isn’t “really great”?

The problem is not doing something great, but in defining what “great” really means. Greatness is relative. It isn’t measured by a grand impact. We can’t all discover America like Christopher Columbus. It isn’t measured in quantity or reach. Extraordinary people are not extraordinary based on the size of their audience, but rather, their contribution.

Extraordinary people play to the size of their heart, not the size of the crowd.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

I finally got tired of looking at the blinking cursor on my screen and started writing. It wasn’t perfect. It sure as hell wasn’t very pretty. But it was something.

And that’s what we do. We do something. Christopher Columbus did something. Michelangelo did something. Rosa Parks did something. Mark Zuckerberg did something. You are doing something. The key is to keep putting together your “somethings” until they stick. Until they start to feel right. Until dreams become realities. Until fantasies become historical inevitabilities.

Astronomers have measured the universe to be (at least) 28 billion light-years in diameter. I don’t even know exactly what that means, but I know there’s an almost infinite opportunity to leave your dent in something that’s measured in light-years.

A lasting legacy is made up of little moments. The twenty dollars you DID give to the twenty-million dollar cause. The book you DID write that resonated with someone. Try. Act. Give. Write. Ask. Work. Create. Live. Whether you like it or not, you’re making a dent in the universe. Make it a good one.

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Yes, it’s almost 2015. Depending on your perspective, this is either terrifying or wildly exciting.

Having just come back from the holidays with family up North, I was inevitably asked, “What are your resolutions for 2015?” – Raise your hand if you were asked something similar. Yes, by now I’m sure nearly all of your hands are raised.

Seth Godin wrote a “New Year” post on January 1, 2009 that I bookmarked then and have continued to look back to since. He says:

“I don’t like New Year’s. Faux merriment, excessive drinking, ridiculous resolutions and general malaise. Not to mention Dick Clark. There’s one great opportunity, though… Brand new expectations are set, expectations just waiting to be shattered. Like an empty Moleskine notebook, the possibilities are exciting. Why not exceed them? The place where expectations are lowest: leadership. Everyone expects you to get in line and follow, not lead. The opportunity this year is bigger than ever: to lead change, to create a movement in a direction you want to go. While the rest of your world huddles and holds back, here’s a golden chance to use cheap media, available attention and great talent to make something that matters.”

Leadership is so damn important. For everyone. Yes, even you, the person who’s thinking, “I can’t possibly be a leader.”

I wrote about it a little over a year ago and found myself nodding at every word I’d written back then and how much it resonates now (it’s a pretty cool thing when your past past inspires your present.

What stuck out most to me was this:

“Great leaders ask questions, review the past, evaluate the present, plan for the future, and navigate toward specific solutions.”

Resolutions are synonymous with solutions. To resolve is to solve. So instead of thinking about something you’re going to “try to do better” in 2015 – think about what you’ll solve. How can you lead change? While the rest of your world huddles and hold back, how can you – how will you – stand out? How will you lead?

“The world, as it is, is not a permanent reality, but is a temporary product of our choices as creators.” — Bryant McGill

Without getting into a whole esoteric “fate vs. free will” discussion, I’ll go ahead and choose to tell you that I am an adamant believer in “free will”.

If there’s one thing we’re allotted as living, breathing, decision-making humans, it’s the power to choose. Choosing how to act. How to respond to adversity. What to pursue. What not to pursue. How to follow through.

As we round out another year and look at the blank pages of our notebook for 2015, my point, the moral of this story, is: make the choices you want to – should – and must make to solve the equations in your own life. Be them personal, like, “How to be more present in my relationship” or professional, “How to earn $1,000,000 in revenue”.

There are plenty of choices that I’ll make in 2015. Some of them will probably (read: definitely) suck and some of them won’t. All of them will play a big role in these things we call “resolutions”.

Whether you’re choosing to work out for 31 days in a row to kick-start your fitness resolution or kicking your old job to the curb to start your own company, be incredibly conscious of the choices in front of you.

Like a blank Moleskine notebook, the possibilities in the year ahead are endless. Why not exceed them? Why not choose to lead?

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But I haven’t “gone” anywhere, I can assure you that. More than anything, I’ve been busy changing (in a good way), thinking, tinkering, iterating, and adjusting the sails to chart a course for what’s next.

I read this from my friend Sarah Bray a while back:

“I am embarrassed to keep changing, to keep moving, to keep adjusting the sails. And I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I want everyone to think I know what I’m doing…that I’ve figured it out somehow. But I don’t, and none of us do, and it’s beautiful. So where’ve I been? Right here…”

We (collectively) are deathly afraid of reinventing ourselves.

We build up a platform that’s successful and/or we settle into a place that feels comfortable, and at every opportunity, we have to potentially do something better or greater, we retreat back to what “has been” – what’s less challenging, what won’t rock the boat.

So I guess my message – four months in the making – to you today, is to never, ever be afraid to reinvent yourself. Whether that be taking time off from a blog to redefine its direction and purpose, finding a new job that inspires you, moving to a new city that ignites you, or starting a new relationship that brings you joy.

Even if that means you quiet down for a while as you plan your next move. Even if that means the world sees a little bit less of you. Do it. Do whatever you believe to be best. Do what you must.

It’s not too late. It’s never too late – to redefine who you are and rediscover where you’re going. Keep changing direction. Keep moving. Keep doing whatever feels right. Keep adjusting the sails.

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“Care. Care more than you need to, more often than expected, more completely than the other guy.” – Seth Godin

I spent one morning last week sipping a Cortado at my favorite local coffee shop, working through a stack of business cards I had collected from a recent conference I attended.

A few hours later and after more than 50 emails sent, I started getting some replies. Inevitably, as personal as my emails were, I received several responses that prefaced their response with, “I don’t have a budget to work with you right now”.

This wasn’t shocking, of course. I, too, have been “solicited” mightily over the years after attending an event. But it got me thinking about the way the “real world” works – and how transactions have jaded us from building valuable relationships.

Time is precious, to be sure, but if we’re only making time for conversations and partnerships that have a “return on investment”, we’re losing sight of the benefit in making real, genuine connections.

What if I told you I wasn’t emailing you to sign you on as a client? What if I told you I was legitimately interested in what you’re working on? What if I didn’t ask “how can we work together?” and led with “how can we support each other”?.

Caring forces you to tap into the raw emotion behind the “why” of whatever it is you do. As Seth Godin says, “Caring gives you a compass, a direction, and a reason to do the work you do”. 

You don’t need to care. You can make a lot of money and be ridiculously successful and leave “caring” at the door. But how empty would that success feel?

How much more meaning can you give to your work – to your life, if you take the time to care?

Care more than you need to. More often than expected. More completely than the other guy.

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