Tag: Joy

The Space for Joy

~ Sasha ~ 2 Comments

It’s natural, when things get hectic, to let joy fall off the list. After all, there’s so much to do!

As the saying goes: when the going gets tough…

So we focus in on what appears to be essential, pouring all our energy into today’s crisis.

While that can be a good place to start, our heroics are often accompanied by two things that might not help us:

  • Cycling through worries, fears, and worst-case stories about what might result from this crisis (aka anticipation of failure)
  • Mind-numbing distraction because we “need a break” (aka doom scrolling)

I visualize the concentric circles like this. And I can’t imagine that the outer two rings are helping me or helping those around me.

We might, then, ask ourselves: what are the minimum conditions that need to be in place for us to experience joy?

And if we really, truly, cannot experience joy today, because of all that is going on, can we at least allow ourselves the space to quiet the outer two circles for a moment?

What would help us to do that?

What helps us pause, breath, smile, laugh, and drop our shoulders, even if just for a second?

Worry and distraction do not have to be out constant companions in a crisis.

If they are, then when does the moment arrive where things are “calm enough” for joy to creep back in?

And when will those near-perfect conditions be met?

The Purple Tree

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This spring, on my daily morning dog walk, there was a purple tree in the woods. I think it’s been there every year, but this was the first time I really noticed it.

Each morning when the sun was out, I’d try to capture it: the blooms, its contrast with the trees around it, how the light filtered in and around it. None of my photos did it justice.

I’d look forward to seeing it every morning. Perhaps today was the day when the light would hit it just so.

And then, a few weeks of rainy mornings.

When I finally made my way back to the woods, it was gone.

It wasn’t just that the purple blooms had fallen off. In the midst of the green lushness of early spring, I wasn’t even sure which tree it was.

How impossible that something that was the focal point of my mornings could disappear. It could fade and become just another tree.

Lately there have been things I’ve been carrying with me that I’ve deeply wanted—sentence after sentence that starts with “If only…”

And then some of them come to pass, in part or in full, and the joy I expected to feel fades as quickly as that purple tree.

I’m working on it, though.

Working on letting that thing that was special, that thing that would make all the difference—I’m working on experiencing the joy, or the relief, or ease, that I’d been looking forward to for so long.

Infectious Happiness

~ Sasha ~ 1 Comment

Our new puppy is finally settling down. This means we get to relax a bit after the Defcon 5 of the last four months.

Having a dog makes no sense, really. They are expensive, inconvenient, they make it harder to travel and generally limit your freedom…

And yet I love them. What makes a dog worth it is two things:

  1. (for dog lovers only) Having a warm, fuzzy, living teddy bear in your house is pretty great
  2. (for the rest of us) Dogs go through life with infectious happiness.

When I pay attention to my dogs, I see their unbridled joy at the smallest things—a leaf, a smell, a toy, a squirrel, dinner.

It rubs off on me.

It reminds me that I can be more present, that I can take more joy in the small things, that there’s no reason to be stingy in giving away love and affection.

One thing I’m committing to in 2025 is to show up in a way that lifts others up.

What about you?

Morning Walk

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There’s a giant field near my house. The grass is covered with dew each morning.

When my new puppy, Birdie, and I get there at the end of our early walks, she shifts gears.

She starts running full speed, nose to the ground and tongue out, apparently trying to lap up all the dew on the field. It makes me wonder if morning dew is sweeter than water.

Watching her, full of glee and boundless energy, I can’t help but break into a huge smile.

As her joy washes over me, I think about what joy feels like and where it comes from, and how, like yawns and laughter, it is contagious.

Project Ski

~ Sasha ~ 1 Comment

For the last decade, I’ve been investing in what my wife affectionately calls “Project Ski,” teaching our three kids (now in 8th, 5th, and 1st grades) to get up and down a snow-covered mountain.

Skiing is an enormous investment of time, energy, logistics, effort. Teaching three kids to ski/ snowboard…that’s a whole other level. The gear alone (skis, boots, poles, hats, gloves, glove liners, long underwear tops and bottoms, goggles, helmets, balaclavas, ski pants, fleece, ski jacket, lift tickets…times five in our case!) is enough to test anybody’s patience and strain their bank account. And with the crazy weather that is our new normal, most of our ski trips in the Northeast U.S. have ended up either being dangerously cold (well below 0 degrees F) or rainy.

Having invested 10 years in this crazy endeavor, last week we take our first family trip to Colorado.

The ski gods smile on us.

It had been a very poor season for snowfall, but it snows more than a foot the week before we arrive and another foot while we are there.

So we drive and park and fly and drive some more on winding roads…we sleep and get on gear and buckle uncomfortable boots and ask “do we have any toe warmers?”….until we finally find ourselves at the top of a massive Colorado Rockies peak.

The sky is a piercing blue. The air is thin, crisp and clear. All around us are fields of untouched powder and evergreens.

And I suddenly remember what I’d forgotten over the years of sweating and organizing and cajoling (“c’mon guys what’s a little rain?!”): skiing is really about freedom.

Not just the freedom to go, or go fast.

It’s the freedom of being out in nature.

The freedom of being a dot amongst miles and miles of untouched beauty.

The freedom of feeling the air, the ground, the sky all around you.

The freedom, and joy, to go anywhere that I and my family pointed our skis and boards.

And, yes, also the freedom that comes with the rush of speed and motion and fluidity that occasionally happens when everything comes together going down the mountain.

This kind of freedom felt particularly magical now, living as we all are in an era in which we struggle to shield ourselves from the cacophony of news and our schedules; we fight to remain present for even a half an hour; and we promise ourselves, daily, that we’ll put our phones away for the night and not check them first thing in the morning.

While skiing isn’t for everyone (my wife is quick to remind me that ‘lying on the beach would be great too’), this sort of joy, presence and liberation certainly are.

And I can’t help but reflect that this flavor of liberation only arises out in nature, when the sensation of the ground crunching beneath us, or a wave splashing over us, or a breeze catching light in the leaves, remind us of our here, our now, our smallness in a big world, and our inexplicable connectedness to all of it.

I’m feeling grateful for having shared this time my family, and for the reminder that this sort of experience is still out there, even today.

New Tricks

~ Sasha ~ 2 Comments

On a run this past weekend, I turn the corner and see an old chocolate Labrador plodding its way down the street. It has a pronounced limp, it is moving slowly, it looks like maybe the walk is too much for it. It seems like it is suffering.

As I come up alongside the dog, I see something different.

Though its body clearly isn’t cooperating, its tail is wagging, its mouth is open a bit, it looks, as much as any dog can, like it is smiling. I see its owner up the street with two other, younger, dogs, patiently waiting and enjoying this family morning ritual.

Looking at the sun shining on this old friend on a quiet early fall morning, I witness its joyful spirit trapped within a body that isn’t keeping up any more. But her spirit is undeterred. Her spirit shows up in a slowly wagging tail and a spark on the inside, even as her hip aches and her body creaks forward.

We get so caught up in our limitations, big and small, that we can think that they are us.

These limitations can be physical, like a bad hip or a nagging cold. They might be our attitudes and behaviors, like when we give in to fears or get stuck in bad patterns. Or they can be external forces that are weighing us down.

Let’s not wait for things to get so bad, though, before we allow ourselves to see and rediscover the joy that lies within us. We have the chance, today, to experience a sunny morning. We have the chance, today, to be bathed in the love of a patient smile, or even the slowly wagging tail of a close friend.

If we can’t feel it inside of us, then we have the chance to surround ourselves with more people and more moments that bring it out in us, who help us turn up the fuel source on our internal light, beauty, and joy.

We always have time for that.

Subway Portrait

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“Excuse me, m’am, may I draw your picture?” he says, white pad on his lap, fingers stained with charcoal.

“Pardon me?” says the woman sitting across from him on the subway, looking confused and a bit taken aback.

“Your picture…is it alright with you if I draw your picture?” he reiterates.

“Uh…sure.”

And then, as his hands glide across the page, his patter begins, not interrupting the drawing, which has to be complete in the two minutes before the last stop.

“This is what I do,” he says, “I draw pictures of people. Portraits. Been doing this for years, I’ve drawn 800 portraits of New Yorkers so far.”

She takes the bait: “All in one day?” she asks. Her guard is dropping just a little bit.

“No m’am, that would be impossible. Anyone who tells you they’ve drawn 800 portraits in one day, they’re lying to you. No, I’ve drawn 800 portraits since I started, and that’s why I can draw them so fast, because I’ve done it so many times. I’m an artist, you see, an artist. Don’t you like how that looks?” (he holds up the already – amazingly – half-finished sketch, which has gone from a few lines to, instantly, a pair of eyes, an outline of a mouth, a bit of expression, in about one minute).

She smiles, recognizing her likeness, the shape of her face, the crinkles around the outside of her almond-shaped eyes.

“See I knew that would make you smile! Now I can get that smile in the picture… Now I’m gonna give this portrait to you, that’s what I do, I’m gonna give it to you either way….Lots of people like these portraits, they hang them up, in their offices usually…And a lot of them pay me for them, even though I give them to ‘em either way, a lot of people pay me $10, or sometimes even $20…

(almost to himself) “Yeah, I try to get 10 people in a day to pay me $10 each, that’s what I try to do. Last guy I did this for he handed me a $10 bill, yes he did. And don’t tell me I’m not an artist, see? Artists make people smile and that’s what I’m doing here, I’m making something that will make people smile.”

Just a few more seconds for the finishing touches, and:

“So here you go, beautiful, here’s your portrait I hope you like it.” he says, handing it to her.

And she does.

And she pays $10.

 

In review: to create a situation where someone gives or buys, you must first create joy, a story, connection, a thing of beauty.

And in situations, like philanthropy, or busking, where it’s not clear what something is worth, it’s your job to tell them, to frame it for them, to say: this is what people who are happy and feeling a sense of connection in this moment typically pay. This is what the last 10 people did.

“I’m going to give this to you either way, but you gotta know that everyone else before you who liked their portrait gave $10 or $20 and hung the portrait in their office.”

Sure, she could decide not to pay, but if she does pay, you can bet it’s not going to be $1, which is what most people on the subway get when they ask for money.

His starting point was a $1 portrait. The story about the portrait, and the story about what people who like portraits pay, that’s what’s worth the other $9.

The Garlic Mashed Potatoes

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For a period of about five years, whenever we’d go out to a restaurant either my wife or I would order the dish with the garlic mashed potatoes. They were so yummy and creamy and decadent, with heaps more butter and garlic than we’d ever dare cook in at home. It pretty much didn’t matter what the main dish was.

Once garlic mashed potatoes began appearing on every menu, the allure went away. But the power of the surprise, the power of the side dish, hasn’t. As in, I just ate a take-out bowl of lentil chili, and at the bottom of the bag I discovered a completely unexpected corn muffin, which was really good. Not great enough, on its own, to make me go back next week nor (better still) so good that it’s really worth talking about, but still pretty darn good and worth remembering.

The thing about the garlic mashed potatoes or the corn bread is that they allow you, for once, to define the terms of the game. You rarely get to set expectations  – expectations mostly arrive in force when your customers show up – meaning you’re usually running as fast as you can to meet/not meet:surpass those expectations.  But with a side dish, with an unexpected surprise, you have the luxury of competing in a category that your customer didn’t even expect. It’s like applying for a job that hasn’t been posted yet: yes, you still have to be amazing, but it’s a heck of a lot easier to blow people away when they’re not busy systematically comparing you to the other 500 people whose names came in over the transom.

The garlic mashed potatoes is the best handwritten note your customer got all week (they haven’t received any), the phone call when everyone is busy filling their inbox. It’s showing up in person when everyone else is calling; giving a presentation with no slides when everyone who came before you bored them with a thousand bullet points; doing something wildly generous when you really, truly, have nothing to gain. It’s not being different for difference’s sake – garlic mashed potatoes are still dinner, after all – it’s doing something fabulous and unexpected that’s relevant to the core story you’re telling them.

Go ahead, why don’t you whip up a hot, piping batch of garlic mashed potatoes?

Gifts – The Icarus Deception

~ Sasha ~ 10 Comments

The other day I received a massive, 40 pound box full of goodies from Seth Godin.

I was one of the 4,242 people who happily jumped in to support Seth’s Kickstarter project to fund his next book, The Icarus Deception.

Of course, for $111 I didn’t just get the book.  And I didn’t just get 8 copies of the hardcover book (to give away), which itself would have been a steal.  Those 8 books took up a tiny corner of this massive box, which also contained two copies of V is for Vulnerable, a alphabet book for grown-ups, with wild, wacky, beautiful illustrations by Hugh MacLeod, about leaning in, creating art, and having the courage to ship; a delicate, hand-made mug by Lori Koop, with a hand-written note from Lori that reads “Seth asked me to make this for you….this is my art. –Lori;”  an LP (yes, as in a record) whose contents I have yet to discover….I just need to get my hands on a record player; and a totally massive, 11 x 16 inch 800+ page full-color book that, impishly, has a bunch of rubber ducklings on the front cover.  It is a collection of Seth’s best online writing from 2006 to 2012, and it’s literally the heaviest book I’ve ever laid my hands on.

Icarus Kickstarter goodies

My experience of this whole thing is joy.  I can see Seth smiling as I smile; I’m wowed by the beauty and the irreverence of each and every piece, as well as the chance that each of them gives someone else – not just Seth – to shine.   And the whole undertaking is, literally, delightful – my high expectations are blown out of the water; even with inklings of what might have been in the box I was surprised time and again.

It really is possible to delight our customers, to thank our greatest fans, to make them feel special not out of a sense of obligation but because you want to and you can.

And going back to the massive, 800+ page book, I also think back to my many experiences of sharing Seth’s advice with others – whether on publishing or on courage or on pushing through the resistance.  Yes, tons of people get it and live it.  And then there are the folks who  say something like, “Well yeah, that’s interesting and that probably works for Seth because he’s Seth.”

When I take this book, which physically holds just a small portion of what Seth has produced in the last six years, the only thing I can think is: he’s Seth because he produced all of this.  He’s Seth because any bit of advice he’s giving is something he’s already been doing for years; he’s Seth because he ships; he’s Seth because he’s not afraid to take risk, to show up, to fail, to shine, or even to look a little silly.

Finally, as homage to all of this (especially the silly part) here’s a little video that gives you a sense of the mega-tome.  Of course it’s not just heavy, it’s also beautiful and it will transform the conversations you have around your coffee table.  And it will remind you not of what Seth can do, but of what you can do if you show up fully every day.

Lifetime guarantee

~ Sasha ~ 2 Comments

18 months ago I got a fancy work bag as a gift.  Within a year, the little ring holding the strap to the bag broke; a few months later the second one broke.

I finally made my way to their store in Soho in New York’s West Village to see if they’d fix or replace it.  Sure, they said.  It would take about a month to repair, and would cost me $150…to replace two little metal O-rings.

If you’re from the US you probably remember, way back when, when LL Bean was famous for taking back ANYTHING and always being willing to repair it or replace it.  This was long before the web or Facebook or social media yet, despite a lot more friction around messages spreading, that story spread – like the one about the guy who had 30-year LL Bean duck boots that finally gave out, he sent them in to LL Bean, and a brand new pair arrived, no questions asked.

This contrast got me thinking about what we see when a customer takes the time and the effort to bring back something that didn’t work or disappointed her.  Sure you could think her as a cost to be minimized.  You could make sure that the clerk she speaks to doesn’t have the authority to make a call to do something to help her, and you could definitely write a policy that’s going to minimize unwanted returns from people trying to scam you.

Or you could see her as someone who cares enough about your product to come back, someone who’s ready and willing to be wowed or disappointed right at that moment, someone who may as well be holding up a sign that says, “THIS IS YOUR BIG CHANCE: turn me into an evangelist for your extraordinary service!”

So of course you show that person the door…?

I don’t care much about the bag.  But it did get me thinking about the rare opportunities we have to really keep our promises.   It’s hard to imagine, even for folks in the nonprofit space, cases where a “lifetime moneyback guarantee” wouldn’t win you legions of loyal fans who will shout your story from the rooftops.

It’s not just the right thing to do, it also will pay off handsomely in the end.