Friday, August 29, 2014

A relationSHIP with LIFE

Some days I get hooked on an idea that I can’t shake. I like to dive into metaphoric concepts and see where they take me sometimes. It’s a big part of my creative process.

I began to think of the sea. I think that the ocean is a pretty commonly used metaphor for life. It’s vast and deep, full of danger and beauty; stormy at times, and calm at times.  The ocean looks beautiful from a far but can be terrifying when you find yourself treading water in it all alone. The symbolism is endless. So I began to consider as many correlations between life and the ocean as possible.

I began to go further now and consider how we as people fit into this metaphor. What relationship do we have with the ocean? How do we navigate through it?

Man learned how to build a boat. Boats shelter us from the dangers of the ocean. Boats can be steered and controlled. We are safe in our boat. We fill the boat with everything we need to be comfortable. We can control its course within a system that is uncontrollable. Our boat is our most trusted friend.

Or is it?

I began to feel something different and unexpected in regard to the boat concept, but Instead of ignoring this subconscious glitch in my logical progression into the metaphor. I chose to consider it even further. The boat began to feel stifling. Smothering in a way, keeping us from the ocean we cant escape. It shelters us from the dangers in the ocean but also keeps us from its beauty. I began to see the boat we sit in as a representation of our fears and pain. We sit in it and make our way through life. We are confortable with it because it is familiar. It represents our limitations. We keep it as strong as possible to protect us through the hard storms and unknown dangers within our lives. If life gets too big or too rough, and begins to overtake our boat we begin to panic and try to find way to keep the boat from sinking. We are afraid to tread water. We don’t know if we have the stamina to cope with it. It would require a willingness to move with the flow of the ocean. We are exposed to all of the oceans secrets and must be ready and strong enough to stay afloat.

I believe I have a boat. I’d like to think that I leave it behind at times and explore a bit. I will make more of an effort to become a stronger swimmer regardless.

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

My daughter and I talk about mortality.

Had a long talk about mortality, namely mine, with the kiddo tonight. She was having some pretty heavy feelings of sadness about losing me one day and was pretty upset about it. I did my fatherly duty and talked it out with her. I reassured her as best I could... Circle of life yada, yada, yada.... Hakuna matata etc, etc.. I'll always be with you, blah, blah, blah.... It seems to have worked. She is sleeping soundly now. But boy. Now I'm kinda bummed.
During the conversation she made me promise that, on her wedding night, I would stand next to her the entire time. I told her that her future husband wouldn't appreciate that. She said that then it would become clear to her that he would not be the man for her. So I agreed to do it. And told her that on that very special day, just before she takes her sacred vows, when she finally turns to me and says, "You can go back to your seat now dad." I'm going to say. "See, I told you." ....I'll remember. That will happen. 

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

A clip from the beginning of my talk with the American Marketing Association in Las Vegas.

Sunday, August 10, 2014

Playing in the Dirt

I remember playing in the dirt as a child and suddenly having a deep moment of clarity. Something triggered it — maybe the warmth of the sun on the back of my neck as it peaked behind a cloud — and it woke me up. I suddenly could hear the silence. I took pause for a moment and began to take inventory of the time. To this day I can remember that feeling. I can see and smell the moist black earth on my hands, hear the birds in the trees, and feel the slight sting on my scratched up knees in the damp grass. I took notice of the fact that I was young and loved by my parents and little sister. I allowed myself to be curious of my future and wondered if I would still want to dig in the dirt when I grew up. I was alone but not lonely. I was in tune in some strange way with my awareness.
You can do this right now, no matter where you are. Take a moment now to make yourself aware of what is happening around you. Use all you senses to capture this moment and encapsulate it in your memory. We tend to ignore intimacy with our own lives. There is real value in just paying attention. The act of pausing creates opportunities that you may have missed, but when you pause,you cast a net into your life that has the potential of capturing a new idea or realization; you create a chance to learn something. Teaching and learning doesn’t only happen in a classroom or even between people. Sometimes, just being aware is enough. We miss countless learning opportunities in our everyday lives from just not paying attention.

Saturday, July 26, 2014


In the prologue of Henry V, Shakespeare poetically asks his audience a favor. He asks them to suspend their belief for a moment. He is about to tell an epic story set in fifteenth century England of a young king who lays claim to certain parts of France based on his distant lineage. This leads to a war between two great kingdoms. How could the humble makings of a small wooden stage, a handful of actors, and stagehands produce such a massive story? Aside from some very creative artistry, you could imagine that “special effects” were very limited in the 1600s. Shakespeare struggled with this obstacle. How could he start his play with his audience primed for the story? How could he avoid the initial uphill battle of believability? He came to the conclusion that he would simply ask a favor. He asks, “Think when we talk of horses, that you see them printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth; For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings, carry them here and there; jumping o'er times, turning the accomplishment of many years into an hour-glass…” 

Shakespeare humbly requests that we delve deeper into our imagination. Don’t let yourself be stifled. Don’t limit yourself to accepted norms or let perceived reality stand in the way of your vision. Shakespeare challenges the skeptic inside all of us, encouraging us to see with our mind's eye. To see a scope of possibility beyond the meager visage of what is before us. He asks this because he knows people allow themselves to be stifled and distracted from seeing possibility.

Understanding creativity requires an acceptance of possibility. We all have perceptions regarding our own creative capacity. We judge our potential based on our past efforts and their results. It is important to have the courage to trust our secret confidence as if nobody was watching. As if nobody could see us fail. Our early judgment of our capacity is what keeps us from reaching our possibility.

I would like to take a note from Shakespeare and call for a muse of fire that might inspire you to not judge creativity on the results of its process, but instead to take note of the capacity of the process undiscovered.

We progress through ideas in our mind as we do through a play on a stage. There is a almost unconscious need to learn and predict outcomes during every challenge. There are assumptions about the plot and become vested in the emotional highs and lows. We live for a moment in the setting. We experience surprise and adulation for heroic acts and frustration and anger for injustices. There is a world being revealed to us causing us to literally feel our hearts sink or swell during the process. We take a voyage to faraway places while sitting comfortably in the dark theater of our perception. We have this amazing ability to imagine things beyond our physical reach and experience them honestly as though they're really happening. We experience a lifetime of emotions and evaluate hundreds of potential outcomes. We balance consequences and we weigh options. We do this constantly.  Endless scenarios play out in our minds at almost every moment of our lives. We explore, discover, and act and react within this humble stage between our ears. It thrives for the challenge of a goal worthy of it. It’s hungry for the struggle because it was made for the struggle.

Our mind needs to find solutions — whether it's trying to figure out why there is more matter than antimatter in the observable universe, or deciding what to eat for breakfast. Creativity is our never-ending, continuous act of processing information that results in some kind of action or reaction. It allows us to cope with the unexpected and encourages us to reach for new and better solutions. The key is to let it do its job. And at times allowing it to do its job requires courage. 

In creativity, the verb is more important than the noun. We are all creative, so the notion that you are creative isn’t relevant. It is the act of creating that is important, and awareness of this act is key. We all need to experience ourselves in the creative process. We create and solve problems because we must. We are wired to do so. Every choice we make is based on a process of discovery, evaluation and risk. We need to open ourselves up to realizing that creativity is key to our development and understanding of the world around us. It is our process of learning.

Everyone has a moment of discovery, a moment when our perception widens and we realize something that before was unclear. Creativity is a hunger for those moments. It a process fueled by our natural love of discovery.

So why would creativity require courage? There is a fear that comes with exploration at every level. The thing a man walking on the tight rope fears is obvious — one miscalculation and he falls to his death. He’s reminded of this fear continuously during the walk across that rope. But during the creative process we find that we often slip. The fear isn’t as clear and present, but the void below us exists just the same. There is no guarantee of success. On the contrary, it is much easier to realize what could go wrong than it is to trust one's footing. But in much the same way a tightrope walker often uses a net as a safeguard, we, too, possess a net — one woven from every failure and mistake we've made. It's a net that made of wit and wisdom, and it gets fuller and stronger with every walk.

If we think of our creative process as problem solving, then we can see that we use it endlessly. Every choice or consideration is part of that process, so creativity is not so much an act as it is a habit. It’s important to think of creativity as an ever-present biological part of our mental process, and not just a tool we can turn on or off.

Someone at one of my workshops asked me a question. “How do you know when it’s okay to turn off your creativity so that you can actually get some work done?” We often make the mistake of having a limited perspective on creativity. We don’t roam the earth carrying our noses in our pockets, taking them out only when we consciously decide we need to use them. Consider all the smells you would have missed if this was true! You couldn’t consciously realize every moment when you would benefit from an unexpected smell. Creativity is much like this. Our perception is that it’s not a constant part of our awareness. There is a false belief that, for us to be creative, we need to be aware of the act or prepare ourselves for the execution of a creative journey. In reality, we will never reach the end of the journey. Creativity is not a tactic; it’s biological and ever present, endlessly working. Our ability to improve on it requires an understanding of this idea.

I would like to invite you to swim in the deep end of my perceptions of creativity and share my relationship with the creative process. My hope is that you will see something within my experience and understandings of it that will help you recall and build on your own creative capacity. So I humbly ask you to dial down your skepticism, ignore you perception of your own creative worth and bravely explore your creative potential. And like Shakespeare did in his prologue to Henry V, I would like to challenge your perceptions of the little theater between our ears.

Sunday, April 20, 2014


This is a drawing of a person done by a child. Many might find this drawing charming or cute, but I’m more curious of our opinion of the process. Consider how we tend to judge artwork and apply that consideration to this drawing for example? We may believe that this drawing is not a good representation of what a person looks like, and we might conclude that it’s lack of sophistication is due to the fact that it was drawn by a child. But if you consider that the child in questions intent was not to impress your notions of what their art should look like, you may begin to see this drawing differently.

Take a moment to consider what a child sees when they interact with people. They look into their eyes that are in the face. They speak from their mouth that is in the face. They hear from ears that are on either side of the face. Everything they know and see of people is in the face. Arms are there to bring food to the face and legs are there to get the face from place to place. Satisfying the needs of others does not motivate them. They are depicting their perception of what is important in the illustration of a person. The torso does not define a person; it’s the moments of engagement and tools used in those engagements. This is what is missing from our perception, as we grow older. We begin to have a need to impress others with the result of our search to communicate ideas in an excepted format. But that limits us. We edit ourselves out of reaching our creative need to find the wonderful. The richness of things we feel we can’t express in an exceptional way. How many of us have had something wonderful to share and not had the words to express them. Is it a lack of words or a preserved notion that others may not understand our idea?

We need to strive to see the world through younger eyes. We need to live with the fearless sense of expression of a child. Stripping away the binding fear of judgment will clear the path to innovating ways of seeing our creative potential.