Some weeks I might have it figured out. Most weeks I probably won’t. Either way, I’ll write it down. This is my first go.
Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by failure. Wanting to break out into something new and creative and vital but buried under the carcasses of my “next big thing.” I feel like I’m spinning around, waiting to fall onto the grass in a vertigo. “What do I do?” is the cry of my heart. I want to expand and help people, but I’m not quite sure how.
If you spend any time in social media, you understand that “success” is a guide/pamphlet/list/book/video away. Just drop your email and phone number because we can trust stranger on the internet. I like to think I’m a rational person, not given to whimsical fancies of getting rich. I’d be grateful for making more than two dollars on the regular.
There’s the AI bros, promising free money with the right prompts, just $19.99 and get personalized coaching for just $97.99 more. Act now! Don’t get left behind. Except the personalized coaching is an outline created with AI on how to outline on AI. I am embarrassed to admit that I’ve spent way too much money chasing after these methods.
Or you can follow your passion. Do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life. Or so we’re told. Dumbest idea ever. Following your passion is like chasing rainbows based on how good you feel today. A bit of undigested beef could kick the sand castle of your passion into oblivion. I’m with Mike Rowe on this. I’d rather bring my passion with me into whatever work I do.
Some tell you to pick a niche. Like everyone else. Because we need to drill down to a narrow sliver of the marketplace and lay claim to that unclaimed territory. If someone hasn’t beaten us there. Even if they have, we just need to create content and watch the money roll in. I wish it were this easy.
Sigh.
Helping people is the surest way to make money. People have a problem. And will pay for the quick, reliable solution. You and I both know this to be true. And if you didn’t, now you do. Help people solve their problems. That’s capitalism in a sentence.
Fast foods were build upon a simple problem: I’m hungry and don’t have much time. Bam! Burger, fries, and drink in three minutes. Or build a burrito how I want it. Fast. Easy. Pay and go. Problem solved.
This may seem an over simplification, but it’s not. Successful businesses solve a problem. The more people have the problem, the bigger the market.
It doesn’t have to be a unique problem. Or a massive problem. Fidget spinners come to mind. Pent up energy channeled through a hand held toy. No time to make coffee? Drop a k-cup into the machine and one minute later, hot cup of coffee. Want a latte? Run to Starbucks. Or the local coffee house. What problem do marshmallow peeps solve? The need to bite the head off a baby chick without the bloody mess. And it also gives people something over which to commiserate their shared disdain for the sugary fluff of sugar.
So here I sit in my obscure corner of the inter webs. (I have always liked this word over internet. Something you should know about me: I like the weird and unusual word over the ordinary) And I wonder how I might solve a problem for people when I am buried under the remains of my failures. And I suppose I could just sit here and doom scroll away my days, wondering how people create success. I see their videos. I read their posts. They’re making it happen. But how?
I’m sure there are “right ways” to go about making money. Building business. Create success for others and myself. I just haven’t been able to quite figure out what those ways are. At least, not to my total satisfaction. I’ve made money, but not consistently. I’ve tried paying for ads, not really knowing what I was doing. Some worked. Some didn’t. I’ve created content, written blogs, created vlogs, and done the stuff. Whatever that stuff was. And when I stopped,…well, everything stopped.
There’s potential out there in the inter webs because people are doing the stuff out there. And making a living.
And here I am.
I know I can do this. Whatever this is. Lately, I’ve read some brilliant essays. And there’s a theme I’m catching. And it’s more than the essays themselves. There’s this thing that seems to be saying “You matter. Your point of view matters. How you think, see, and do. It matters.” To whom?
I don’t think this is the universe’s message just to little old me. To be honest, I believe this idea of the value of my unique perspective of life energizes me. And stirs up my hope and optimism. Because it reminds me there is purpose in life.
And purpose doesn’t have to be this world changing, help every person on the planet kind of thing. I know because there are people that I don’t know, impacting the world around them. Their world. Where they’re at. Whether the neighborhoods in which they live and walk and breath, or the virtual lanes and corners of the inter webs. They’re making a difference. How? By being themselves. And letting that be enough.
I know, I know, I know. I’ve looked in the mirror and wondered. I’m old-ish (61 going on 62), I’m fat and have lost and gained more weight in my lifetime than the Green Bay Packers offense combined. I started going grey at 26. That wasn’t so bad. The worse part is the wiry ear hairs that grow faster than dandelions and stick out like bike handles. I need wire cutters to keep them at bay.
What do I have to offer? How am I enough?
When I look around, there are people everywhere. And we look and act the same. Sit in a crowded football stadium and people act people-ish. But when you look carefully, you start seeing individuals. The people that sit in each seat. Each person has a story. I have a story.
I’ve lived and written my story over the course of a life lived. I have succeeded and struggled, fallen and gotten back up. I tell jokes, snort milk from my nose, hang out with my friends. I’ve run from a fight, and have run towards another. I dance when no one is looking and talk to myself like a Shakespearean soliloquy.
I’ve lived and breathed my unique story. The story only I can tell. I’ve wrestled with my problems. I have faced and slain my geckos. Or run. Or both. Or got brutalized in the fight. And here I are, having survived my very worst days.
This gives me a unique measure of experience and wisdom. Experience that can help people facing similar fights. Or foibles. Or whatever slimy thingy they face. I know what worked and what didn’t. I know, from experience, different ways that might help other people deal with their problems. Help them find solutions. And avoid trouble and heartache, and time loss. My little bit of wisdom can help bring perspective and understanding to their experiences. And help them persevere. Or know when to walk away.
My perspective matters. To someone. Somewhere.
This is what I bring into the work I do. How I approach problems and solve them. How I react and respond to stressors and conflict. How I deal with the vagaries of life as they come at me.
This matters because this is where I find myself. In a new season. Or the start of a new journey. I’ve lived, loved, and survived this far. I’m scarred, bruised, and don’t have the vigor of my youth. Yes, it’s true I think that youth is wasted on the young. I know mine was. Le sigh.
I know I don’t have my sh…shtuff together. Not totally. I try. I work at it. But I’m not some triumphant guru sitting atop the mountaintop. I’m just me. In the struggle. But here’s what I know about me. I’m really good at asking questions. Because I’m curious. Stay curious is my thing. It’s how I learn. It’s how I work to understand. But knowing is only part of it. We have to wrestle with what we learn. Knowledge isn’t enough. We have to grab hold of that knowledge and figure out what it is. And how it’s useful. And understand it. Really understand it if we’re going to make any use of knowledge.
And then live from there.
So I will womble about, trying to make things work. What does any of this look like? I’m unsure. I have ideas and I’ll act upon them. And see what unfolds.
I’m sure there’s a “right way” to do this. And I’ll uncover them as we go. Or make it up as I mash up my ideas and knowledge. I will say this: I refuse to demand of myself to “get it right.” Failure is an option. So I will create, iterate, and find my way to do this. Whatever that looks like.
And here’s my hope. My full blown, optimistic, Pollyanna dream: It helps someone. I don’t expect to change the world. There are some 8 billion people alive right now. I don’t have to help everyone. That’s a little grandiose, even for me.
But I do believe in compounding influence. If I can help ten people help ten people, I’ve had a hand in helping 100 people. If I can help 100 people help 100 people each, then we’ve helped 10,000 people. To my way of thinking, that’s totally doable.
And maybe…maybe, I might help leave the world a little better than I found it. That’s worth the struggle.