Sean Johnson :: Intentionally – Live on Purpose

One of my favorite words for years has been discipline. I love the idea of someone being so passionate about something that they’re willing to spend hours every day working on it. A skill or talent that takes years to develop. Overcoming one’s urges or addictions little by little and prevailing. Chasing a dream that to many seems foolish and finally attaining it by working harder than everyone else.

But recently, I started thinking about a similar word – disciple. I’m not sure which one came first, but I found it odd that while I always considered myself a person of discipline, I never considered myself a disciple. Truthfully, I never wanted to be.

I bet that people in the first century would have found that odd. I bet that back then, if you were a follower of Christ it was assumed that you would be a disciple. After all, to be a disciple means to, slowly and over time, become the kind of person who thinks and acts like the person they are following. And if you believed that Christ was who he said he was and took seriously his command to put down your nets, pick up your cross and follow him, it would seem that becoming a disciple was not the exception but the rule.

But somewhere along the way that changed. Perhaps it happened hundreds of years ago after Christians stopped being nailed to crosses or stoned to death or fed to lions in front of angry crowds. Perhaps it happened in the 20th century as humanism (and man’s happiness and comfort) became the objective of mankind. Who knows. But at some point it became not just accepted but normal to be a believer but not be a disciple.

To think one way but do (or not do) another.

To talk the talk but not walk the walk.

To call Christ your master but ignore his desire for your life.

I know this has been the case for me, and it has been the case for just about everyone I’ve ever met. The arguments against discipleship almost immediately bubble up – that not everyone is called to do that, that I don’t feel God leading me in that direction, etc etc etc.

But the more I’ve thought about it, the more wrong I think that is. The more wrong I think I’ve been my entire life.

You see, Christ rarely talks about heaven, about a life after death. He spends the majority of his time talking about how to bring heaven here to earth – about how by loving each other and caring for the poor and seeking peace and avoiding anger and sharing our gifts and talents with each other we can bring God’s kingdom to our world now.

But very few Christians (myself included) don’t live this way. For us, Christianity is about saying “the prayer” so we don’t go to hell, and then living our lives pretty much the same way we would have otherwise. Only with less cursing. Out loud at least.

Some go further and talk about “growing in their walk with God”, but that doesn’t really mean much other than going to church and praying more often and reading the Bible some more. And when we’re not doing that we’re still ignoring the homeless guy en route to our fancy cars with the bags of fancy clothes in the back that we’ll try on when we get back to our fancy house, careful not to brake too fast lest we spill our fancy coffee drink in our laps and ruin our fancy pants.

No wonder so many people think God is dead. Our lives are no different than they would be if we believed in the tooth fairy. We’re not disciples, we’re just believers. And we sit here, watching Season One of 30 Rock for the third time after another long week at work, waiting to die.

I think there’s another way.

A way that starts with a decision to actually take God up on his offer. A decision to actively learn to walk and talk and act and think the way that Christ did. A decision to become a disciple.

It’s a very recent realization, and I haven’t the slightest idea what a life like that would be like in modern America. But I imagine it involves constructing my days quite differently than I currently do.

I imagine it means not sleeping in until 11 on Saturday, or spending three hours getting my butt kicked by a 9 year-old in Madden football on a Sunday afternoon.

I imagine it means centering my life around the same disciplines of study, prayer, solitude, fasting, simplicity, and the like that hundreds of Christians before us have used to draw closer to God.

I imagine it means working my tail off at work, not for a promotion or money or equity or bragging rights but because God gave me breath and and a brain and the ability to make things look pretty and words sound compelling.

I imagine it means being much slower to anger, not allowing myself the demented joy that comes from holding a grudge.

I imagine it means sitting down with my wife and honestly assessing how we spend our money, and determining how much we’d need to give away in order to truly be stewards instead of misers.

Most importantly, I imagine it means asking God what he really wants me to do with my life – what my part to play is in this grand plan to bring heaven to earth.

I imagine it means to stop sitting on the sidelines.

Belief is easy. Following is much more difficult.

So I’ve been playing basketball for about 9 months now, and have come to a startling realization.

I’ve become a ball-hog. And a terrible defender.

Somewhere after junior high, when I was known for being the most turnover-prone point guard in Colorado Springs sports history, I became a pretty good shooter. In college intramurals I was able to put up some pretty solid numbers, but I still had a mentality of passing first and shooting second.

I also taught myself eventually to hustle on defense. I took pride in trying to man up on one of the better guys on the other team to see if I could slow them down. Sometimes it worked and sometimes I humiliated myself, but by the time I had graduated I could handle myself.

My how time has changed things. Part of the bad defense can be explained by the fact that I’m in terrible shape, made progressively worse with what must be shin splints. But the shooting – it’s a tough thing to realize that the more times you shoot the more points your team loses by. Sure, some go in – I actually had my best scoring game ever in my fall league. But I’m in the middle of a 14 game losing streak dating back to October and the one constant has been that I shoot more than anyone else on the team.

If your team is going to lose every game, they might as well have fun. And playing with someone like myself in my current form isn’t that much fun. You don’t get to take shots because he’s heaving up anything that comes his way. You’re having to help cover the guy that just blew by him on the other end of the court. And you have to watch the other team’s score constantly tick up in the process.

I have a few games left in the season, and I’m hoping it’s a trend I can turn around. Because as long as I play like this it doesn’t matter whether I put up 25 points or 4. Two things will remain the same – my team will lose and my teammates will want to shoot me.

I heard a story the other day about an older guy giving a younger guy advice.

He told the young guy about how 20 years or so earlier he had decided that he would stop taking his weekends for granted. He felt he had spent years wasting his days on sleeping until the afternoon, watching television the rest of the day and eventually falling asleep in his recliner with a beer in his hand. He felt there was something wrong with that picture, and decided to do something about it.

So he bought a bunch of marbles.

He grabbed an old glass jar from his garage and poured a ton of marbles in – one marble for each Saturday he had left in his life. He was 55 at the time, and assumed he had about 20 years worth of Saturdays left – about 1040 marbles in total.

Every Saturday from that day on, he’d start his day by going downstairs to his garage. He’d grab one of the marbles and carry it with him throughout the day, and at the end of the day he’d throw it away. He said it reminded him that this particular day in his life would never come again.

He was telling this guy this story because on that day, he had picked the last marble out of jar. His eyes welled up a bit as he thought about the 20 years of Saturdays that had come and gone, and how dramatically different they were than the ones that proceeded them. How each one had a sense of urgency, of intention. How each was an opportunity to make his life a little bit better, the lives of his loved ones a little bit better.

He told the young man that he felt so fortunate, not only that he had been able to experience all those Saturdays, but that he’d been given more than he had planned. He said every single Saturday after this one was a gift, and his heart was filled with gratitude.

As he walked away from the young man, he told him to remember to number your days.

The story has stuck with me because for 27 years I’ve coasted. The activities I’ve engaged in, the ways I’ve spent my time have been almost entirely devoid of this kind of intention. They’ve lacked this kind of gratitude. They’ve never had the urgency that comes with the realization that you’re never going to get that day back.

My typical Saturday is a lot like that old man, minus the recliner and the beer and the TV. I sleep in, I maybe do a couple chores around the house, I pretend to work on my computer, I go eat at some nice restaurant I don’t really need to go to and eat way more food than I should, stopping only once my stomach is upset. Then I come home and go to bed.

One could argue that such a routine is perfectly normal, that there’s nothing wrong with it. After all, I have plenty more Saturdays left. But if the next 10 years are anything like the last 10, those Saturdays will blow by in a blink. From what I’ve heard, things only speed up as you get older.

But even if I did have an endless supply of Saturdays left, that wouldn’t change the point. I have a worldview that says that we’re here for a reason, to do something worthwhile, to make our world a better place.

But it’s a worldview that resides in my head and in conversations over dinner and on this website, and rarely if ever finds its way into the daily routine of my life. My life is about convenience, about making people think I’m talented and funny, and about having enough money to take care of myself and my wife.

It’s not a life that is marked by the passion I claim to have. And I think the key to changing that has an awful lot to do with that guy and his marbles.

I need to learn to number my days, to treat each one with the respect and the focus and the intentionality it deserves. Because the old man was right – each day is a gift, and for me to waste one being lazy and gluttonous and selfish is unacceptable.

I have 2491 marbles left. Let’s hope I use them more wisely than the first 1400.

One of my primary goals for 2008 is to become a better maanger. Historically I’ve tended to either:

1. not delegate at all
2. delegate without providing much instruction or coaching, then take the project over when they didn’t magically read my mind and guess what I needed
3. give it to someone and not manage it at all – completely abdicate responsibility

Obviously, I have a lot of work to do. The one thing that my freelancers and team members have said that was positive was that they enjoy working with me on a personal level. I’m a fairly easy guy to get along with, and they like that I’m not stuffy and overbearing and “manager-y”. Which is nice to know.

But in order to become a more effective businessperson, I’m going to need to learn how to develop my management acumen considerably.

I’m only about three weeks into things, but I feel like I’ve started to make a tiny bit of progress. Specifically, the following are some subtle changes I’ve made in my management style that I’m hoping will pay dividends in the long run.

• Learn to rely on others – Historically I’ve been able to produce a large amount of work (something in the order of 200+ site designs a year plus interface work on the application-level) without killing myself. Unfortunately, not delegating more has meant the product doesn’t always get the love it should. So this year I’ve made a conscious decision to offload all (or close to all) of the one-off design projects that come in. The philosophy is to figure out how to make it work. If I convince myself that taking a project on or re-doing it myself isn’t an option, I’ll be forced to teach others how to do what I do.
• Learn to communicate what’s in my stupid head – In order to make the above work, I have to become a much better communicator. My training is in marketing – I managed to get to my position through self-teaching and tons of practice, and got to a point where clients and our internal team generally thought my way of doing things was preferable. Great for the ego, but as a result I’m not very good at articulating the finer points of design. I have a hard time explaining why we do something or why something looks better. This historically has been very frustrating for people who’ve worked for me, particularly when they come from a classical training background. To improve this, I’ve started to put together some “best practices” documents that outline specific ways of doing things. Some are broad (like the benefits of using grid systems and how to create them), while others are more specific (why you should never use the standard Photoshop drop-shadow settings and what to do instead). I’ve also started trying to make sure I outline everything I can think of in terms of project specifics so there’s as little ambiguity as possible.
• Develop my team – One of the best things my favorite managers ever did for me was get me thinking about what I want to do with my life, where I want to take my career, what skills I want to develop. As I start relying on people more and more, it’s important to me to keep them thinking about what’s ahead and (as much as I’m able) help them develop the skills they need to be successful in their career. For one of my guys that means spending regular time talking about how to develop a successful company. For another, it’s thinking about how to leverage his skills in video and delegate himself so we can tackle more projects at a time.

Like I said, I’m about three weeks into this new initiative, and I know I’ve got a long way to go. I’m excited to see what happens in the coming months.

What about you? Do you manage people? What strategies and skills have you found helpful in motivating your team and being effective as a manger? I’d love to hear them.

For the majority of the past five years I’ve worked either remotely or as an independent contractor. Which means I’ve spent a considerable amount of time in various Starbucks across the country.

During that time I’ve noticed a very disturbing trend. Whoever chooses the music to play in Starbucks has a ridiculous habit of playing the music I listen to. It’s become a joke that if I find some new band I love and play it with any regularity, it’s a virtual certainty that within 90 days it will appear at a Starbucks near you.

I’ve come to the conclusion that they are spying on me. They poured millions of dollars into the infrastructure to provide wireless access for the express purpose of finding out what I listen to.

Think about it – why else make me create an account? They obviously found out that I would be traveling around the country and would need to know which Starbucks I was visiting on any given day. The expense is worth it for them – they make plenty on music sales. And I’m not going to get into the technology specifics – let’s just say that I’ve seen a lot of movies that confirm that they can easily hack into my machine without my knowledge and check out my iTunes playlists.

I’ve always admired my absurd ego, even about trivialities like musical tastes ability to find musicians just before they were “discovered”. But it wasn’t until now that I realized they’re always discovered by Starbucks.

In the past five years, they’ve stolen (that’s right, STOLEN) Norah Jones, Zero 7, Gotan Project, Ryan Adams, Damien Rice, Justice, Feist, Sia, and Ingrid Michaelson (that one’s insane – her boyfriend was one of my colleagues at work, we saw her play at a hole-in-the-wall in New York in 2006, I put her on my machine….and you know the rest.)

Now I’m not suggesting that I found these people myself – of course someone else tipped me off. But you can time it – roughly three months after I get hooked on someone, they get placed in heavy rotation at the coffee behemoth.

Given this, I would suggest one of two things:

1. Starbucks just put me on retainer, call me up once a month and ask me what they should play. I’d make some extra money on the side, they’d save on all those spies, everyone wins.
2. Artists should feel free to contact me and send me their music. For a reasonable sum, I’ll play it on my machine, and in 90 days you’ll be rich.

One of these options would provide suitable compensation for the service I’m providing them. At the very least I should get all the coffee I want.

Who wants to bet on how long it’ll take for The Autumn Film to appear at a coffee shop near you?

I’ve come to the conclusion that most solutions to problems are crazy. At least, that’s the feedback you’ll get if you present your solutions to other people.

You hear about it all the time in business – the visionary presents their new product or service, proposes a different way of looking at things, only to have their ideas fall on deaf ears. But the principle exists almost everywhere.

Men and women complain about their inability to find a suitable mate, one that will love them and treat them with the respect and attention and care that they deserve. Though when such a person arrives offering such character they’re rejected.

People across the country panic because they see their country slowly being destroyed. Though when presented with a possible solution, they ignore or laugh or openly mock the individual trying to help them.

Just last night I had a conversation with some friends about how my family has a history of heart problems, and how my eating habits have done nothing to decrease the likelihood of continuing that trend. But when I suggest a move to vegetarianism they look at me like I’m from another planet.

Try this next time you’re out with friends. Talk about the potential recession, about the subprime mess and AMEX and Citigroup and what appears to be the beginnings of a commercial real estate freefall and hyperinflation and the falling dollar and being in debt to China and the baby boomers retiring and pulling their money out of the market as mandated by government and the fact that in 2020 there will be more young people than old people for the first time in history.

Talk about all of that, and then throw in that as part of their investment plan they should purchase some silver. And wait for the reaction. It won’t matter that silver’s tripled in value over the past two years, or that it has historically held its value in economic conditions very much like today. I guarantee you’ll look like a nut.

I think being aware of the consistent aversion to real solutions should factor into how we make decisions as individuals. All to often, the desire to not look or feel “weird” keeps us from taking risks. We can all probably remember a time when we did something that went against what we knew to be right because we didn’t want others to think poorly about us.

But the problem with ideas that aren’t weird or a little crazy is that they’re generally wrong.

The vegetarian is absurd, the obese person normal.

The guy working the local precinct for his candidate of choice is weird, the gal texting her vote on American Idol is normal.

The guy going out of his way to make his girlfriend know they are beautiful and loved is quaint and a little odd. The guy making jokes about how his wife isn’t smart enough to read a map and isn’t nearly as pretty as the stripper in front of him is normal.

The guy who drops out of school, maxes out his credit cards and lives on Ramen noodles for six months to build a software company is misguided and naive. The guy who works for 40 years at various jobs he hates is normal.

More often than not, the solutions to our problems don’t lie in conventional wisdom. Perhaps the key is a willingness to embrace looking like an idiot in the pursuit of truth.

I learned that I spend about an hour a week being strategic and the rest of my time producing work, even though 95% of my value comes from that hour. That’s a ratio that could use some serious work.

I learned that I’m great at coming up with ideas but mediocre at implementing them, and that the reverse would be much more ideal.

I learned that my neighborhood was very recently a terrible place to live and still has its share of shootings, muggings, etc. I also learned that revealing this information to your family is not advisable.

I learned that I rarely fight fair. I may not be loud or angry, but I’m manipulative more often than not. While not always quick to get into an argument, once I’m in I usually want to win more than I want what’s right.

I learned that losing weight is unbelievably difficult. Maintaining the lost weight, however, is much easier.

I learned that trust is everything in business and in life. You can’t operate as a healthy team without trust.

I learned that if you’re stuck in the airport for a few hours, a day pass at the Red Carpet club is totally worth it. Nice chairs, desks, coffee, pastries and fruit, clean bathrooms.

I learned that condemnation and reprimands are rarely necessary and always scar. Even if you get the desired outcome – changed behavior, acknowledgment of wrongdoing, etc. – the cost is rarely (never?) worth it.

I learned that there actually are real people who, while not perfect, approach an ideal and maintain a consistency and sense of purpose that can spellbind you. I found two this year – one is running for President, the other is a hairdresser in Chicago. I’m still deciding which one will have a larger impact in the world.

I learned that being a “sprinter” at work is a double-edged sword. You can get an immense amount of work done in very little time, but it’s easy to become lazy and waste incredible amounts of time.

I learned that I’m a ridiculously bad manager right now. I don’t teach, don’t coach or encourage, and vacillate between not delegating anything and using delegation as a tool to stop thinking about projects altogether.

I learned that I can sell – that you don’t have to be a pit-bull to do it. All it takes is confidence in what you offer (which when you created big pieces of the product comes much more naturally) and have a willingness to answer questions (which is all objections really are anyway).

I learned that I can still shoot a basketball. As long as people stand far enough away from me and give me plenty of time. And ideally are covering their eyes.

I learned that I care a lot more about money than I thought I did. I always fancied myself a man who didn’t want a lot of things – our place is still extremely bare, I don’t have much in my closet, etc. But a number of big events happened in my company and my life that revealed me to be just as greedy and envious and angry as anyone else in the world. I learned that it can consume enormous amounts of energy, strain relationships and generally make you a miserable person to be around.

I learned that I (and basically everyone I know) have lived with our eyes shut more than we’d like to believe. I never fancied myself a conspiracy theorist and laughed at those who did, but watching this campaign so far has convinced me that there is so much more going on than we usually realize. The spin and misrepresentation is so blatant and consistent (and effective) that I’ve literally felt sick to my stomach watching it unfold.

I learned that my wife is a better Christian than I am. I may read more books and talk more lucidly about what I believe, but she lives it far better than I. While I think and talk and write about myself all day, she exhibits a level of selflessness and kindness and generosity and patience and humility that completely overwhelms me. I know more about God, she believes more about God. There’s an enormous difference, and I know very well which is more desirable.

I learned that Chicago is absolutely the coldest city on earth.

I learned that the best 10 minutes in the world exist when I close my computer at night, put on warm socks, lay down next to my already-sleeping wife and think about how lucky I am to be alive and to have this person to share it with next to me. You often hear stories about people in their waning years, and how they reflect and wish they appreciated what they had when they had it. For all my issues and problems and character flaws, I thank God that I get reminded of what I have for 10 minutes every night. It’s the closest thing to a peaceful heart that this arrogant, wound-up young soul has experienced.

My goal for 2008? To feel that way the rest of the day as well.

This afternoon, I walked into the bank with a good-sized (for me, anyway) check. There was a man outside holding out a cup asking people for money. I put my head down and walked in. I deposited my money. I put my head down as I walked out.

For all my writing and thinking about treating the poor like real people, I still stubbornly do the same stuff I’ve always done. Not always, thank God – these days it’s more like a 50/50 chance. But what’s my criteria the 50% of the time when I turn down the man or woman begging me for help?

This afternoon as I sat down at my coffee shop and opened my brand new laptop and talked on my iPhone, I got a sick feeling in my stomach. It’s pointless to pretend like I’m something I’m not – and what I’m not is humble, magnanimous, generous of heart. My wife and I don’t have a condo – who cares. Our walls are bare and we only have a couple of (really nice) pieces of furniture in our apartment. It’s ridiculous that I contemplate these facts and sometimes convince myself that I’m living the way God intended me to live.

30 or 40 years ago, a man and a woman gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. They loved him, took care of him, went out of their way to protect him and keep him safe. He grew up, fell in and out of love, thought about what he wanted to be when he grew up, got a job, did his best. Somewhere along the way, things took a turn for the worse. Who knows what the catalyst was – losing a job, an inability to get over heartbreak, losing his parents. Maybe drugs or alcohol or some other vice. Whatever it was, it led to a deterioration in his life, one that he hasn’t recovered from.

I walked by a man today who has parents somewhere who love him and wish they could help. Maybe has brothers and sisters who are ashamed of him, or wish they could see him more often, or wonder where he even is. He likely had dreams that seem terribly distant, and faces a reality that is colder and harsher and more difficult and humbling that I can even begin to imagine. Who knows what he would have done with the money had I given it to him – regardless of motive, he is certainly harder on his luck than I am.

But as long as I continue to look down, I can convince myself that none of the above is true. As long as I don’t have to look him in the eye, I can tell myself that he’s an alcoholic and he deserves whatever’s come to him and that he should just get a job.

As long as I’m looking down, I don’t have to confront the fact that he has a heart that aches, emotions that have to grapple with the fact that his life isn’t like everyone else’s. I don’t have to think about how he long ago stopped being treated like a member of society and started being treated like something to be avoided, ignored, or worse.

As long as I look down, I can pretend he’s not a person.

Yesterday was the anniversary of my marriage to Michelle. We didn’t do much – partially because we’re saving for a trip to Patagonia and partially because we just wanted to spend the day hanging out together. And, just like pretty much every day of the past year, it was perfect.

Tonight we watched our wedding video, and I was struck by how long ago it seemed. While it was fun to reminisce about the day, I found myself not looking back longingly, thinking of those days as somehow better than today. In fact, I’d say the opposite was true. As great as that day was, and as great as our courtship in New York was, it has nothing on what followed.

I’ve said this before, and I’ll probably continue to say it. I’m a very boring writer these days. I don’t opine on my struggles mainly because my biggest problem is fretting that I have things too good. There are times when I worry that a hole is going to open up in the earth and swallow me – that I’ll be smited in an attempt to bring some sense of equilibrium to the relative blessings between myself and other people.

But that’s the great thing about it – I feel more secure in my happiness than I ever have in my life, and it’s because my happiness no longer comes from what I accomplish. While the majority of my semi-mature life has chosen to pursue acheivement and accomplishment and the respect of my peers, the past few yeas have seen a transformation, one that has only intensified in the last twelve months. In place of those temporary, inanimate, ultimately pointless pursuits, I get the joy of spending every day trying to make this beautiful, intelligent, unbelievably sweet girl happy.

Just about every night during the past six months, my heart has ached with joy. When I’m laying down in the dark, there’s no distraction, no noise, nothing to preoccupy my mind. And in those moments I constantly find myself thinking about how ridiculously lucky I am to have this girl next to me.

This is the greatest gift in the world. To know a woman who with every conversation, every loving interaction, every drop-dead gorgeous dress blows your expectations of perfection out of the water. To find someone like this, who challenges you and makes you grow, makes you want to be better than you ever thought you could be, makes you feel lucky to be alive. To find someone like this, and to have them make the choice to spend their life with you.

I’m a sappy, deliriously happy mess of a man. It makes for terrible writing. But it’s better to live well than write well.

Later this week, thanks to the ridiculous generosity of my buddy Matt, I will be receiving my first Mac. To be honest, after 15 years successfully navigating the ins and outs of PCs, I’m more than a little nervous to be making the switch. I’m terrified that my design concepts will revert back to my high school days when I played around on MS Paint. I’m sure the concern is unfounded, but it’s there.

In anticipation of this new phase in my professional life, what advice do you have for me? What tools do you use to make your jobs or lives easier? What software would you say is an absolute must-have – for personal productivity, for maneuvering around the machine, and for web work specifically? I’d love any feedback any of you have.