Circling a coffee table sat a writer, a social worker, two designers, and an accountant. One sat in a love seat, another a stool, a couch, a dining chair, a bench. Different occupants with differing occupations in different chairs. It was a fitting first official meeting.

They had met in preparation of this meeting the past seven years or so of course, some longer, even if they didn't know it. College. New Zealand. Philadelphia suburb. A pub. A restaurant. The point wasn't necessarily where, though locale played a large part in the development of their relationships, but more on the concept of what happened when they met.

The ‘what’ is displacement.

Learning is the process of constant displacement. It is the constant nudge that forces realignment, a rebalancing act that stretches and pulls the sinews of the mind and of your choices. It is this refinement which suitably adapts you to new locations, tasks and people. In his book Moonwalking with Einstein, Joshua Foer speaks of two concepts that allude to this:

1. As we age time appears to pass more quickly. Since our level of experience is more controlled than when we were younger, less variables differentiate the repeated processes of our daily lives. This leaves little memorable mark on our timeline as we find the route of our lives routine. This is the first concept.
2. We plateau. As we learn things we get better at it until we hit level of autonomy. We no longer focus cognitively to do these tasks. It is at this stage that we, having done enough to get by, no longer push ourselves and therefore meet little-to-no growth. Joshua calls this point the OK Plateau.

How do you combat both of these seemingly inevitable outcomes, these byproducts of progress? Simple. Through displacement. By thrusting ourselves into new situations, uneasy tasks, and engaging conversation we imprint marks upon our memories. We simultaneously cultivate a sense of wonder and exploration as we elbow our way out of autonomy. We introduce new stimuli to modify our responses.


Joshua points out to four tactics experts use in their respective fields to fight the OK Plateau:

• Experts tend to operate outside their comfort zone and study themselves failing.
• Experts will try to walk in the shoes of someone who's more competent than them.
• Experts crave and thrive on immediate and constant feedback.
• Experts treat what they do like a science. They collect data, they analyze data, they create theories, and they test them.

And it is exactly in this scenario that the writer, the social worker, the designers, and the accountant meet. To say that they only ever met for intellectual benefit would probably be inaccurate. But to say that a byproduct of their friendship resulted in the eventual official gathering would more likely suffice. Friendship may have brought them together, but common life questions and debate fostered something more meaningful.

What brings disparate paths and interests to meet at the common point of ingenuity?  A drive for creating remarkable memories and a refinement of excellence When thrust into a situation where all seems too steady, displacement may be the place to start.

A glutton for all things drenched in history, my first stop in mainland Europe this summer was Copenhagen, Denmark. And I was excited. I was inching closer into Scandinavian territory, swooning at the proposition of finally traversing myth-soaked lands while downing pints of Danish lager. What I found was a modern city fused with old grandeur and an emphasis on design. (In actuality, after leaving JFK I entered Europe through Iceland’s airport in Reykjavik. And being Danes, their sense of architectural design using wood, steel and glass was, for lack of a better word, enchanting.)

My initial impression of Copenhagen was welcoming. With the strong sense of community infused with an open utilitarian social emphasis, despite the lack of mighty heroes and thundering gods, Copenhagen was an instant love affair. The proclamation elegantly draped along a large stone building confirmed it: “Design can save the world!”

But what did these Danes mean when they declared design could do so much? And what could such a simple word save us from? The word “design” may appear simple, though describing it may not be.

Howard Gardner, Professor of Cognition and Education at the Harvard Graduate School of Education suggests there are varying forms of intelligence, with our most recent era focused predominantly on the numerical, logical and mathematical type. The result: skewed focus on numeric value leading to what I refer to as the productivity/production problem— a slant towards quantity of output rather than quality of output.

Design means many things to many people. Most look at the word thinking “creativity” and “imagination.” What most miss is the conjunction with left-side-brain attributes. Organization. Structure. Hierarchy. Dominant factors in successful problem solving. And this is exactly design, a language unto itself, one stemmed in solutions and problem-solving. Like the physicist who applies mathematics as language to convey the functions of the universe, designers use problem-solving to construct the visual and read language describing our world.

In the span of fifteen days, Fast Company Design published two articles dealing with the emerging design-focused entrepreneurial movement in the United States, and specifically, Steve Jobs and the design-centric nature of his startup-like company. Tumblr, Twitter, Behance and 37Signals are all technology and social-based companies sharing the commonality of design or creative backgrounds.3

“The emerging trend represents a headlong crash of creativity into capitalism.”4

It is this remarkable trend both Gardner and the Danes speak of. To simply lump the concept of design as purely aesthetic or superfluous is to undermine the very value of artistic-based intelligence. Intelligence manifested through marriage of the analytical and the inspirational. This is where true innovation exists.

"When we look at a design, we don't see a design, we are experiencing it."6 Steve Jobs and Apple understood this and that is why other companies will continue to try and be like Apple but completely miss the point. Tech specs, numeric crunching and features will not make a difference in this shifting economy. The Danes, and much of Northern Europe, understand this and why they believe functional and inspired design can make a difference. We are beginning to as well.

IQ, quantified intelligence, cannot exist as the sole form of intelligence. Artistic intelligence, crafted experience, social development and human interaction. It will take a heaping dose of the human quotient to lead entrepreneurship forward.

Artisans were broken into two specific categories: the masters and the apprentices.  Artisans were held of social esteem, if not like a nobleman, then at least as people who had value by transfering that value into what they made. A common misconception is that artisans were as what we consider workers today; in fact, it was quite a different time, only displaced with the advent of the industrial revolution.

We spend all our lives working so we can amass stuff. We buy these things with our time (let's face it, it's our time we're selling to the dollar) and then we spend more time devouring it. When we run out of room for this stuff we look for ways to buy a bigger house with bigger rooms to contain it all. In the end we've traded all of our time for stuff.

And then we have these words. Productivity. Production. Words hijacked to now conjure new ones the likes of automaton and cheap. They are words that, in current practice, allows us to buy stuff for less. While healthcare and education prices rise, the price of stuff goes down. Along for the ride is the notion that in order for us to make more money (+$) for less time (-t) to get more stuff (+®/™/©), we need to become more efficient; traits such as conceptualizing, incubating and associative thinking need not apply. This is conveniently termed as waste. As if deception weren't swift enough, we are nocuously mislead to believe efficiency is synonymous with effective.

It is time we reclaim our words and our time. By doing so, we may also reclaim our value.

Systematically dissecting craftsmanship, industry sacrifices value for commodity. Our own consumption dilutes our value and engluts our time. In the name of stuff we behead the artisan; and so the craftsman weeps as the walled discount mart grins. Where we could be creating, we’re instead working to buy ourselves out of the cycle.

What does this have to do with creativity and creating? Everything. It is no coincidence a trend with entrepreneurship booms, that words like innovation leverage. As design and startup cultures influence the market and a larger unemployed population decries the lack of jobs, more than ever it is important to apply a sense of pride, worth, integrity and value to making, creating and sharing. It is only by doing so can we begin to climb out of this mess.

“Each of you possesses the most powerful, dangerous and subversive trait that natural selection has ever devised. It’s a piece of neural audio technology for rewiring other people’s minds. I’m talking about your language of course, because it allows you to implant a thought from your mind directly into someone else’s mind… And just imagine the sense of wonder in a baby when it first discovers that merely by uttering a sound it can get objects to move across the room as if by magic.”

- Mark Pagel


To be certain, I am not sold on the world exclusively utilizing only one language (Wade Davis has a great counterpoint to this), but what I do find amazing is, more now than ever, we are able to communicate where once we were unable. Through use of technology and a better understanding of learning, we can now cross the cultural divide and in doing so, not homogenize cultural diversity, but cross pollinate and share cultural wisdom that would otherwise go extinct.

I think I'm special. I am a direct contributor to a generation thinking we deserve greatness simply because we exist. After all we're here aren't we? We're the cultured generation, the well traveled. We're the learned with an ability to spew our random facts. In between we recite an endless list of books we've read as we proudly regurgitate pop culture references. Echoing indefinitely in my brain are the words of James Shelley's latest post:

And okay, I'll be the first to say I feel privileged having lived many of those experiences. I feel lucky to have read those books. And I believe I've gained better integrity and moral fiber for synthesizing everything I've learned. But goddamnit beyond that are we going to do with it all? What are we going to do with our experiences, our books and our knowledge besides hoarding it? Because here we are decrying corporate greed* while we're consuming not just material goods—cheaply made trinkets replaced upon receiving every paycheck we've already spent—we're also consuming that intangible stuff: knowledge. We're consumption eating away at itself, devouring massive amounts of information, culture and media.

The creatives amongst us cry out in defense: "It's about connecting the dots after all isn't it? We're supposed to have a perspective wide in breadth and depth to draw these things together, aren't we?"

And so here it is: Yes.

• We need to consume.
• Knowledge is power.
• We CAN be great.

This is good. There's value here. But when are we going to stop mindless consuming and start mindfully creating? When are we going to lay aside our pretense of power through knowing and start empowering by doing?

It's not enough we sit around and talk intellectually about things anymore. Hell, I know that's what I spend most of my life doing. We read these stories about the quintessential heroes and we think we empathize with the Prometheus. We come up with grand ideas and we think that shot of dopamine is sufficient to get us through.

Well it's not.

We call ourselves creatives, yet we don't create. We say we're cultured, but we don't cultivate culture. We say we're learned, yet we sit there and we ponder and we mull and we critique without adding back anything of value. We don't create a better solution to whatever it is we're judging and we don't produce anything with the mass amounts of information we've attained.*

But it's not because we can't.

I'm going on this rant, because I can. I'm writing this rant, because I'm disappointed. I'm disappointed in me. All this time, I've been selfishly learning, reading, processing and thinking. What have I done with it? How am I holding myself accountable? Self doubt isn't excusable anymore and perhaps living life being told I was special added pressure of fear, of failure.

But let's forget all of that. Let's fail.3 Then let's pick ourselves back up and push forward. When we inevitably meet failure again somewhere along the way, let's readjust, reevaluate, and march on ahead. With a smile. With playful resolve. Because we owe it to ourselves to do nothing short of pursuing greatness. Let's earn it. Let's create. Let's do something.

Postcards, Matthew Ross Smith's EP hits the streets November 1 and with it his lyrical anecdotes to his Spaces Project.

Matthew has been a pleasure to work with and as one of the leading members behind his creative team, I'm elated to be associated with my fellow SBYF Project colleagues.

Take a look at Matthew's blog to get a sneak peak at his EP cover and then continue following the story of a young man seeking to bridge wisdom between generations.

What if we were concerned with positivity as much as we were with productivity? 

They don't have to be mutually exclusive, but think about it.

I am amazed at the situations I find myself in, sometimes extravagant, other times surprising, and from time to time, enlightening. Mundanity sets in, for sure, and I think this feeling grows as we find ourselves more capable of escaping it. Ever read a book and wish you were doing what they were? Or watch a movie and find an instant twinge of nostalgia as the music cues and the credits start to scroll? Part escapism, part actualization of a dream to move, to explore, to inquire, the adventurous in us were clever enough to invent ways to accentuate the experience, or, with a sprit of genius, create one.

Even then, once that moment is done, that last leaf turned, or the last spin on the merry-go-round rounds, people like us crave ever so slightly the next moment bringing us out of our normalcy. Book, film, playground architecture, small hamlet along the coast, guest to a laird, sitting on a dock with friends; amazing moments once wrung lay dripping with memories.

Finality inspires. It asks of us, what have we taken for granted? What have we done, or more importantly, what have we yet to do and what will we never be able to experience again. How many more times will we sit by that window sipping coffee? Or run alongside the river, losing the day’s trials as we do so? How many more opportunities will we have to dance upon rooftops like kings upon their thrones?

Are all these hopeless grasps at unsustainable pleasures? Or mere stepping stones to a higher plane of existence? Collingwood warned of looking at practical life with disdain, the disatisfaction of those linking moments between fortuity be an illness to our humanistic fiber: 

Amusement becomes a danger to practical life when the debit it imposes on these stores of energy is too great to be paid off in the ordinary course of living. When this reaches a point of crisis, practical life or ‘real’ life, becomes emotionally bankrupt; a state of things which we describe by speaking of its intolerable dullness or calling it a drudgery. A moral disease has set it, whose symptoms are a constant craving for amusement and an inability to take any interest in the affairs of ordinary life, the necessary work of livelihood and social routine. A person in whom the disease has become chronic is a person with a more or less settled conviction that amusement is the only thing that makes life worth living. A society in which the disease is endemic is one in which most people feel some such conviction most of the time.1 (R.G. Collingwood)

1. R.G. Collingwood, The Principles of Art (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1958), p. 95

An alarming consideration at the very least. To be addicted to what we consider the essential consistency of our resolve—the “stuff” that makes life worth living—would be a crime. But I believe there is a clear distinction between the stargazer and the sleuth. Perhaps in our pursuit of mental and spiritual satisfaction, we use those rare moments, exploiting them as linking points, cues to connect our memories to the less memorable—though no less essential—chapters of our greater narrative. That is what makes working hard and working smart as satisfactory as traveling fast and traveling far. And while the repetitious routine may seem to wear away our resolution, we must remember that those instances, whether impressive or seemingly inconsequential, are only a part of the greater awe. It is, after all, in those quiet moments where we are able to synthesize all those great experiences to create the great work, our magnum opus.

And so it is on a Friday night, quite an un-extraordinary one, we find ourselves in a restaurant discussing the mundane. 

“When you start feeling this way, it’s always good to take a moment and step back. That way you can look at yourself as a character in you own narrative. You can remove yourself from that moment of frustration.”

Wise words from a friend who, at the moment, is taking a giant bite out of his brick-oven pizza. 

”This is why it’s called ‘The Struggle,’ Phil. Because it’s a struggle.” 

And as I’m now taking my turn to take a bite out of my pizza, I think about what Matt had to say. All that comes to mind is:

How clever.

Always feels great to start the day with ample time for a warmup, some news, breakfast and a non-rushed shower. Start the day for "me" before starting it for someone else.