We’re not so happy when something catches our eye. We thrash and squirm like a sea bass until we get our eye back.
We can’t stand our curiosity being peaked. We immediately turn down the volume for fear of adding actual dynamics to our life’s orchestra.
We simply can’t have these distractions. We have to get to work, hit the gym, or rush to catch the next train. We have so many things to do.
The problem is, the more things you have to do, the less stuff you have time to make.
Dare to notice.
Allow your eye to be caught, and even reeled in. Surrender to the uncertainty of what could be.
Have a curiosity that peaks and valleys and flows everywhere in between, composing a symphony of possibility.
Only from this place can we begin to simultaneously see things as they are and also as they could be.
To follow. To brainstorm. To plan. To manage. To-do list. To play it safe. To copy. To trace.
This is not making.
To make is to lead.
To engage with the uncomfortable action of crafting something personal and on purpose.
When you were a child, one of the first values you learned was, “Share your toys.”
“Share with your brother.”
“Sharing is caring.”
When you were a child, you no doubt had some resistance to this principle. We’re scared to share, because something inside us equates sharing with losing.
It’s true, if I share my toy, then the toy is no longer mine. That doesn’t mean that it’s solely theirs though. Sharing actually means that what’s being shared is now ours. There is a deeper, more communal aspect to to sharing that says, “This was mine, but I want you to have it too. Let’s use it together.”
Sharing does not mean giving it away for free.
“Free” is for a cheap product.
A “free” sample is really just a snack on the way to the thing you’re actually interested in.
“Free” is worth as much as it costs.
Sharing implies a gift.
A gift has real value, both for the giver and the receiver.
And we all know that the best gifts are ones that can be used together.
This is what happens when we generously share what we have made.