As we head into February — and realize that once the calendar turns, SXSW is officially next month — I’m reflecting on January with appreciation.
This month, I had the opportunity to present and get feedback on the workshop that I’ll be bringing to Austin this March. In addition, our first-ever BRANDCAMP from UMC Academy kicked into full gear. The opportunity to work one-on-one with brilliant, driven creatives from coast to coast is a privilege. I’ve written about that inspiration recently.
As I continue to serve in this capacity, I realize that I’m doing what I was always meant to do. I’m using my experiences and perspectives to create — and the things I’m creating are helping people uncover ideas, organize their thoughts, and create from a place that is truly, authentically them.
Moreover, the journey is all of us turn the challenges we’ve faced navigating this industry and life itself into opportunities. There is great power in our stories, and this type of work helps us to dig deeper and unleash that power — even (and especially) when it’s uncomfortable.
I say this is what I’m meant to do, because for the longest time, I believed that my story didn’t matter. I grew up in rural New Jersey in the 90s and early 2000s, where boys sharing their feelings was frowned upon. Get too emotional — or even too expressive — and people were going to look at you funny, at best. “Toughen up,” “be a man,” and similar phrases were a regular part of the vernacular. As I got into later adolescence and adulthood, I stopped sharing much about myself at all.
There was a lot left unexpressed and, as I detail in the book (out Feb. 25), it led me to a point where I gradually became desperate for an outlet. Then, one August night in 2013, I found one — and I’ve never looked back. (If you want to know the details behind that anecdote, I have a pre-order link for you.)
In the process, I’ve slowly become more comfortable opening up. As I’ve gotten further into this journey, I’ve allowed myself to share what I’ve experienced, with the hope that it can provide someone with the boost of courage needed to step into theirs.
Have I met resistance? Absolutely. Relatives and peanut gallery members alike have, at times, accused me of being “too open.” I’ve been told that I wouldn’t be taken seriously as an entrepreneur if I shared the challenges (and how they illuminate the successes). I’ve spoken on the grit and adversity that meets us along this path — no, it isn’t all sunshine and rainbows! — and have been told that I sound like I’ve been “kicked.”
(Even as I type this, a small part of my brain wonders if there’s anyone out there who’s tired of hearing me talk. I’m sure they’re out there. If any of you are reading this, I love you anyway. 😉 )
The difference between now and my younger days? I haven’t let this criticism turn me back from sharing my truth and uncovering how I got there — warts and all. In fact, surviving every one of these instances has taught me to lean in and embrace the criticism. It’s a compass that points me toward a Truer North, every time.
So many of us let fear hold us back from who we truly are. Fears of judgment, rejection, and even success — based on prior traumas, or external narratives that we’ve internalized — stand in the way of so many people who are capable of doing incredible things.
By its nature, modern society places so much importance on these external judgments — which often come from people grappling with and projecting their own insecurities.
Those judgments don’t actually matter. Those people, in their current state, aren’t for you.
What matters is living this life and sharing all of its parts through everything you choose to create, so that the people who derive hope and connection from stories like yours have a chance to ignite their own personal Renaissance.
I consider this realization to be one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever received. It’s an even greater gift to have a platform like SXSW to share it with other creatives from around the world, and to help them find and ignite the flame of purpose that flickers within.
This is my life’s work. I’m the kid who, for so long, was told his story didn’t matter so many times that he became afraid to share it. Now, I realize the blessing it is to not only have the ability to share it, but use it to help others find and communicate the beauty in theirs.
Lean into that beauty. That messy, imperfect, real, unfiltered beauty.
People are counting on you, beginning with yourself.
