Keyword: innovation

  • You Can Just Do Things

    “You Can Just Do Things” by Jason Kotecki. 30 x 24. Oil on canvas.
    Original is available. 🔴 Shop this art!

    I don’t know who needs to hear this, but you can just do things.

    It’s true.

    Yet it seems we’re always waiting for something before we can begin.

    We are waiting until we get the degree.

    We are waiting until the kids leave the nest or until we retire.

    We are waiting until we know all the steps.

    We are waiting until we finalize the plan.

    We are waiting until we feel ready.

    We are waiting until we feel courageous.

    We are waiting for inspiration.

    We are waiting for permission.

    We are waiting for the stars to align, the sun to come out, and conditions to be perfect.

    We are waiting for just one last thing before the rest of our lives can begin.

    Meanwhile, sand slips through the hourglass, turning into minutes, days, and years.

    Patience is a virtue, and there are times in life when only patience will do. But more often than not, our waiting is just a form of hiding. Adultitis sabotages us before we even begin.

    You can just do things.

    Unfortunately, it’s easier to complain. To blame someone else. To wait for instructions, permission, or for the timing to be just right.

    But the timing will never seem right.

    You don’t have to wait for permission.

    You don’t need a hall pass.

    You don’t need a note from your parents.

    You don’t need a document signed by a notary public.

    You can just do things.

    As I was working on the manuscript for The Penguin Who Flew, I had the serendipitous opportunity to take a writing retreat to the Outer Banks in North Carolina. It’s the very site where Orville and Wilbur Wright achieved flight for the first time. While I was there, I dove deep into their story. I read “The Wright Brothers” by David McCullough, watched a documentary about their life, and visited the National Monument in Kitty Hawk, standing at the place where they made history.

    The Wright Brothers did not wait for permission.

    Other people working on achieving sustained flight of an engine-powered, heavier-than-air aircraft were highly educated experts. The Wrights only had high school diplomas. But they didn’t put their dream on pause to get a degree. Instead, they read books on math and physics, studied and observed birds in flight, and collected data from their own experiments. They needed knowledge and experience, not a piece of paper.

    They also didn’t wait for funding from investors. Big money went to the more well-known, more highly educated experts in the race. Orville and Wilbur were nobodies, unknown and irrelevant. They didn’t have financial backers, an inheritance from a wealthy father, or a winning lottery ticket in their pocket. They had a mildly successful business that provided just enough profit to self-fund their experiments, bit by bit.

    Nor did they wait until they had a full plan in place before taking their first steps. The brothers tinkered, learning as they went. Although the whole point was to figure out how to make a self-powered plane, they didn’t even bother with a motor until they could figure out how to master lift, balance, and control. Their competitors floundered trying to accomplish everything all at once.

    Even after the brothers had cracked the nut of manned flight, they were met with doubt and disinterest in their initial attempt to sell their invention to the U.S. government. Instead of giving up, they went to Europe. It was only upon becoming celebrities after successful, public demonstrations in France that the United States finally offered a contract.

    You can just do things.

    “Whoa, hold up, pal,” you might be saying. “You can’t just be a surgeon without a medical degree.” Well, obviously. Of course. It’s easy to come up with exceptions, but they only prove the rule.

    You don’t need permission to change the direction your life is heading, and you don’t need a piece of paper on the wall to start improving your life today.

    Real life is not a schoolyard version of kickball, where you wait anxiously for someone to pick you, hoping it’s sooner rather than later.

    Adultitis is the king of convincing you that you absolutely need just one more thing before you begin. It’s really just trying to kill time and run out the clock on you.

    Yes, you will need some patience, but you don’t need permission to start chasing your dream.

    You don’t need to wait for a pink slip to start looking for a better job.

    You don’t need to wait until you’re a millionaire before you start being generous.

    You don’t need to wait to feel courageous before you can act bravely. 

    You can just ask for help.

    You can just start a side hustle.

    You can just ask her on a date.

    You can just homeschool your kids.

    You can just apply for better jobs, even if you already have one.

    You can just stop spending money on stupid things.

    You can just end that toxic relationship.

    You can just cancel your subscription to Netflix.

    You can just offer forgiveness before receiving your apology.

    You can just talk to God and ask Him to show you He’s real.

    You can just stop waiting for permission.

    And you know what else?

    You can be afraid and still do all of these things.

    Don’t waste your life waiting for the fear to magically disappear.

    There will not be a time when you will have all the assurances you need.

    You will not earn everyone’s unconditional approval.

    You will not be able to eliminate every risk.

    You will not receive a guarantee of success.

    And yet, one truth remains.

    You can just do things.
  • Follow No Maps

    “Follow No Maps” by Jason Kotecki. Digital art.
    Shop this art!

    Best practices are for the birds.

    Remember when your mom asked you if you’d jump off a bridge if all your friends did? Nowadays, you could get away with saying “yes” if you explained that jumping off the bridge was a “best practice.”

    Look, I’m all for seeking out wisdom and learning from others who are doing things well. But I’m beginning to see “best practices” morph into a fancy way of saying, “tell me what to do so I don’t have to think.” It’s become just as much a way of hiding as it is a tool for improvement. After all, no one ever got fired for following a best practice.

    Best practices are the equivalent of paint-by-numbers: “Color these sections exactly the way we tell you and you’ll end up with a pretty picture that looks exactly like this.”

    As I’m fond of saying, they don’t hang paint-by-numbers in the Louvre.

    Innovation is a sexy buzzword these days. Everyone wants to be seen as innovative. But you can’t be innovative if you’re busy following best practices. Doing the same thing as everyone else is the opposite of innovation.

    If you really want to be innovative, you have to find better practices. And the only way to do that is to try doing something different. Of course, it might not work. But…what if it does?

    You can follow best practices or you can be innovative, but you can’t do both.

    The head fake here is that this little rant seems to be all about business, but it’s really not.

    It’s about life. The map is there for you if you want it. You can parent your kids, spend your free time, navigate your education, plan your wedding, celebrate holidays, run your campaign, decorate your home, or manage your finances according to “best practices.” If you want your life to look like everyone else’s, by all means, look around, watch what everyone else is doing, and do that. Frankly, that’s actually what most people want.

    But if you are reading this, I suspect you want something more than for your life to look like a boring old paint-by-number that looks exactly like everyone else’s. In order to do that, you have to ignore the map and head off for parts unknown. That’s what “escaping adulthood” is all about.

    The scary part is not that you don’t know where to head, because deep down, you actually do.

    Deciding to start; that’s the scary part. It’s also the beginning of a great adventure.