• I remember years ago, being in a room with a spiritual teacher. A friend and I had organized a workshop with him. He was a very wise man.

    Towards the end of our evening, a guy put up his hand to ask a question.

    “Terry, I wake up every morning, and I don’t really want to be alive. There’s so much pain. I was an alcoholic for many years, and I’ve been sober for many now. But I’m just so unhappy. I don’t know why I’m here. What do I do?”

    It was one of those questions that makes the room go deathly silent, as everyone reels from the depth they’ve just been plunged into.

    Terry paused a long time. And then he said.

    “I don’t know. I don’t have any advice for you. I don’t know what the answer is. But I will offer you a prayer.”

    And he did. And something entered the room as he did. I can still feel the shivers now.

    The question was too big to answer. And so he honoured it by opening his heart, and blessing this man, and his suffering, and all of us who are suffering, and don’t know what to do about it.

    And I’m glad he did. And I’ll never forget that moment.

    We’re taught to know the answers

    Because intelligent people know the answer. Successful people know the answer. Popular people know the answer.

    And if you confess that you don’t know, then it must mean that no one likes you. Or you’re a failure. Or dumb.

    And who wants to be dumb and alone?

    So we fake it.

    I fake it.

    It might be a small fake. Just brushing over the cracks lightly, and hope no-one noticed.

    “You know, like in that amazing film, ‘The Cross and the Armadillo’, you know the one I’m talking about right?”

    “Uh. Yeah of course.”

    Except you don’t.

    Or maybe it’s a big fake. Pretending to be this whole other person. The one you think you need to be to get the things you think you want. And it’s been happening for years.

    And at the bottom of it all, it just hurts.

    It hurts to fake it, because it robs us of the natural nutrition that we get from being real.

    But to be real we have to be vulnerable.

    “I don’t know.”

    And the more there is on the line, the less our pride wants us to confess to it.

    You’re the coach, you should know

    You’re expected to know the answer Ewan.

    You’re supposed to guide them through this with surety and confidence. You’re the coach.

    You’re expected to get them results, no matter who they are or what they do.

    So what’s the answer Ewan? Your client is in front of you, and they’re scared and stuck. They need your help. What are you going to do?

    I don’t know.

    But you should know! Oh man, you’ve got yourself into a sticky spot here haven’t you? You told them you could help them, and now they really need your help, and what do you have to say?

    I don’t know.

    Oh dude. You’re fucked. This is so far from being ok. Better fake it. And fast. Otherwise this whole house of cards is going to come crashing down. What’s the answer?

    I don’t know.

    Sometimes I wish I said it more often

    During an interview earlier this year, a woman asked me how my coaching was different to other business coaches out there.

    I was about to deliver some kind of elevator pitch. Because I thought it was a good question. And I thought a good coach would have a good answer to it. And I wanted to be seen as a good coach.

    But for some reason I paused long enough to find something more true.

    “I don’t know.”

    Because I didn’t really know how other business coaches worked.

    And sometimes I wish I said that more often.

    Because when I realize I don’t know, and also realize that my unawareness is real, and not an error, it opens up this huge space for my curiosity to flow into.

    Authentic ignorance.

    Saying “I don’t know”, because I truly don’t, even though the rules in my head say I should.

    Saying “I don’t know” because it’s infinitely more true than pretending I do.

    Saying “I don’t know” because it gives me a blank page to paint a new consciousness onto.

    Smash the statue and the pedestal

    Don’t hide your ignorance.

    No need to pretend you’re more than you are.

    Every time you try and fit in, you negate the way you stand out.

    You just keep propping up the crumbling statue of some fake guy, which you glued together from ideas of how you’re supposed to be, and what you’re supposed to know.

    It’s not real.

    Smash the statue. And smash the pedestal you’ve been trying to pretend you’re standing on.

    You are so wonderfully ignorant of how fucking beautiful you really are.

    Though that’s not a mistake.

     

    Ewan Townhead

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  • There’s a very old story.

    A shepherd boy is bored tending his sheep, and so to amuse himself, he shouts ‘Wolf, Wolf!” And the villagers come running to save him, and discover it was a ruse. And he laughs.

    And then he does it again, and they still fall for it, bitterly.

    The third time, an actual wolf shows up, but the villagers don’t. They don’t believe him when he cries ‘wolf’. And so the wolf eats all the sheep, and maybe it eats the shepherd boy too.

    And the moral of the tale is that no-one believes a liar, even when they’re telling the truth.

    Everyone is shouting for your attention

    I have a special folder in my gmail inbox.

    When I sign up to someone’s email list, I use an address that funnels all their emails into that folder. It’s a very full folder.

    I’m on some of the lists, because they’re people I like to read. Folks like Danielle LaPorte, Michael Ellsberg, James Altucher and Seth Godin.

    And the rest I’m on because they’re my peers, or my competitors, and I like to keep a track of my market and see what other people are doing.

    And for the most part, I fucking hate the marketing emails they send me.

    I’ll skim down the list and look at all the clever subject lines designed to hook me into opening them up. And it’s like 100 people at a party all shouting at the same time to get my attention.

    And it makes me want to click away and never come back.

    Just get as many people to open it as possible

    I studied online marketing, and email marketing for quite a while, then I practiced for quite a while, then I taught it a bit. Now I’m fucking with the ‘rules’.

    I know the tactics to get people to open emails.

    I look at all these mails in my special folder and I’m impressed, because some of these people are really good. Better than I am. The subject lines are persuasive and clever and enticing.

    And if you could get more people to open your email by using a good subject line, why not do it, right?

    That’s what the marketing aficionados teach. It’s all about the subject lines. Good ones get more people to open your email. Bad ones get less.

    Simple.

    Except I think the principle is (deeply) flawed. Because everyone is crying wolf.

    Subject: I’m dying. And this is the last email I’ll ever send to you

    It would work, right? People would open this in their droves.

    But what do you do with the next email?

    Subject: Only kidding. I’m not dead, but you can get a discount on my new thing

    I remember when we were selling our course at Waking Up the Workplace. I wanted as many people as possible to open the mail. So I used this.

    Subject: This is the most important email you’ll receive from us this year

    It worked!

    It also didn’t feel that good. But I was ok with that, since I wanted people to buy the thing, because it was a good course. And they did.

    But now I’m trying out a different approach.

    Don’t be persuasive

    “Hey buddy. Have you ever suffered from not finding your purpose? Well I was just like you too, until I discovered these 5 principles of living a successful life. And now I have a 6-figure business. Click here to learn the secret. But do it today, otherwise this message will self-destruct.”

    And maybe they do click the link, and maybe they’re underwhelmed.

    And maybe they never open your email again.

    And you wonder why your business is not really flowing.

    So you go even harder at your marketing…

    With this site, I decided to do things differently.

    I wanted my email list to be a quiet place. One where I didn’t shout for my reader’s attention.

    I wanted it to feel like I was sitting in a coffee house with a friend, and quietly leaning over…

    “Hey man. I’ve been working on this thing. It’s about slurpies. I just finished it, so if you’re interested, take a look. I hope you dig it.”

    And if people are interested, then they do check it out, and hopefully they like it.

    And then next time I let them know about something, they’ll check it out again, because they liked it last time.

    And then I don’t have to persuade them of anything. Because it’s like a friend making a recommendation. And they trust my word.

    It’s not a magic spade

    “It’s a spade. If you want to dig a hole, it will help you.”

    And if no-one’s interested in your spade, go make something else. Or find people who love holes.

    Don’t try and trick people into checking out your spade by telling them it’s magic. Or that it will help them discover their purpose. Or enlarge their penis.

    It’s a good spade. That’s enough.

    And if it’s actually not a good spade? Then get your priorities straight, and stop marketing junk, rather than creating great stuff.

    This is all very well, but does it work?

    A valid question. Ask me in another 4 years for the definitive answer.

    But what I can tell you, is that by focusing on my writing, not hyping shit, and aiming for trust, not email opens, I’ve consequently got a consistent email open rate that’s higher than any list I’ve ever seen.

    Now, my list is still small, and maybe this is front loaded goodwill, and I snaffled the loyal friends and followers early on, which massaged the numbers.

    Could be.

    Like I said, time will tell.

    But either way, I’m pretty sure that if you measure it over the long term, trust is going to beat the shit out of persuasion.

    Plus it just feels good.

     

    Ewan Townhead

    , ,

  • I finally said it.

    “I don’t want you to coach me any more. I don’t want your advice. I’m done with it. I’m going to do it my way from now on. You don’t get to tell me how I should do it any more.”

    When it did come, I kind of blurted it out, the pressure had been building for two years.

    Our business partnership was over.

    We both got vulnerable. I was able to soften my rebelliousness. He was able to let go of his need for control. It opened us into a closeness that was only possible now we were separating.

    I had spoken my truth. And a new chapter of my life begun.

    Truth speaking, what is it?

    It’s a horribly clichéd term for something powerfully beautiful.

    It’s saying what’s true in your heart. It’s saying something that feels risky. It’s saying something and not knowing what’s going to happen next.

    It’s saying something that disrupts normality.

    I remember those powerful moments when I spoke something I’d been reluctant to share. I’d been trying to avert the nightmare in my head by not saying it. I remember the sense of deep relaxation as the final echo of my words vanished into the moment just passed.

    It’s out.

    It’s not mine to leash any longer.

    God will take it from here.

    It’s a practice

    It’s a spiritual practice – discovering yourself through sharing your vulnerable experience.

    It’s a business practice – revealing who you are to those you can serve.

    It’s a powerful practice – one that can revolutionize your life and work.

    It’s also a practice that, like any practice, can be misunderstood.

    What we believe to be ‘our truth’ is not always true. What we believe to be authentic, is not always authentic.

    Here are four key distinctions that will help you avoid the traps of speaking your truth.

    1. Opening or Closing

    My friend Lisa first taught me this – will your share open or close people?

    The trap is thinking you can share whatever you want in service of authenticity.

    Will this open their heart, expand their mind or show them something more of what is possible? Will this expand their state, have them feel more, desire more, experience more?

    Or will this contract them, shrink them, close them? Will it trigger a state of anxiety, or defensiveness? Will they walk away from your share feeling less of the world, and less of themselves?

    Yes. It’s your truth. But are you conscious of the impact it will have on people you care about?

    You’re in the midst of a bout of existential depression and anxiety. Everything seems pointless, you seem pointless, your work looks completely meaningless. In a moment of lonely desperation, you tweet it to all your followers and clients.

    “What’s the point? Life is a joke. Don’t want to do any of this shit anymore. Thinking I’ll close down my business.”

    Is it true? Maybe.

    Have you opened them? Probably not.

    You probably freaked them out, and compromised your business and work.

    Are you conscious of the hearts of those you speak to? Can you feel them? Can you tune into where they are, how they are? Will this serve them? Will this open them or close them?

    Are you conscious of even making that judgement call?

    Truth speaking is not saying whatever the hell you want to whoever the hell you want, and expecting everything to turn out authentically.

    It’s a conscious act. You’re conscious of your heart, and their heart, and the connection between you, as you open your mouth, and say what’s there.

    2. Covert Neediness

    You say it like you’re just ‘speaking your experience’, all the while you’re actually hoping for people to meet the needs you haven’t actually confessed to having.

    Maybe you need them to commiserate with you and tell you they love you.

    Maybe you need them to congratulate you and tell you how amazing you are.

    Maybe you need some advice.

    You’re secretly hoping they’ll meet your needs, but you haven’t admitted it to yourself, or them, and it ends up giving your share this weird, creepy or disingenuous feel.

    It’s like those weird incomplete facebook posts.

    “Wow. It’s amazing. I never thought this would happen.”

    And then hopefully someone takes the bait asks what happened, and you get to have that need for attention and confirmation met.

    Except it feels covert, and unowned. And weird. Because it is.

    If you need something, own it.

    I saw a beautiful facebook post from someone recently. She’s a very successful coach and trainer. She was having a really hard time, really struggling. She shared what was going on, very honestly and vulnerably, and asked people to express some love toward her.

    Hundreds responded.

    3. Opinion dressed as truth

    “You didn’t do what you said you would. That’s why your business is not growing like you want. I feel like you’re unprofessional, and it’s never going to change. You should get a job instead. I know this might feel hurtful, but it’s just my truth.”

    No it’s not. It’s your opinion.

    Opinions are powerful, when you share them truthfully, which means sharing them as opinions.

    “You didn’t do what you said you would. I’m deeply questioning whether you actually want to grow this business of yours.”

    Too often, we throw out our assessments and analyses inside this box of ‘our truth’ which actually just squeezes truth out of the connection.

    When I offer my opinion as truth, I leave no room for your truth.

    “I hear you. I do really want this business. But I think I’m following a strategy that just doesn’t fit with my deeper vision. And I’ve felt ashamed about that.”

    Opinions are not true. But they are true opinions.

    4. Vulnerability not vomit

    Brene Brown says vulnerability without boundaries is not vulnerability.

    I agree. I think its vomit.

    It’s throwing up your unprocessed thoughts, feelings and stuff all over other people, without context or consciousness, and expecting them to sort the chunks of importance from the chaff of confusion.

    It’s unpleasant to receive.

    Sometimes our relationship to reality can get messy. And we don’t know how to make sense of it, or connect with it. Sometimes it feels good to splurge. It helps. My woman does it regularly. It helps her get it out of her system, and feel herself again.

    But don’t confuse vomiting for vulnerable truth.

    You’re on the phone with a client. They just asked you how you are.

    “Oh man. I’m feeling kind of funky this morning. I was up late last night. I know I shouldn’t have done it, but I was rocking out on pot, porn and pistachios. I just don’t know how to kick these addictions, you know? Psshhht. To be honest, I’d rather not be doing this call now. I feel pretty shitty. But hey ho, here we are. How are you?”

    What you say may be true, but it’s not appropriate.

    Vomit is not vulnerability.

    Vulnerability is conscious. Vulnerability is choosing to share something you’d rather not, while maintaining conscious connection with the person or people you’re sharing with.

    Vomit is not even really noticing who’s in front of you, and just throwing up your undigested material all over their awkwardness.

    Your truth is real

    Rilke said…

    “Near here is a land they call life,
    You’ll know when you arrive by how real it is.”

    Truth is like life. It’s so real that those who hear it are moved by it, opened by it, enlarged by it.

    Are you being real? Or are you hiding behind ‘the truth’?

    Your heart always knows.

     

    Ewan Townhead

    , , ,

  • Business isn’t about you and your weird tastes. It’s about your customers. And if you want to be successful, you can’t talk about the far-out stuff that you happen to like. That just won’t fly.

    No, you must talk about handsome return on investment, the tangible benefits to their short-term goals, the problem your product will solve for them. You must talk about effectiveness and results.

    This is the language of business. More. Better. Faster.

    You must not talk about God, or destiny, or anal sex, or consciousness, or intimacy. These things are woo-woo, inappropriate, or irrelevant.

    This is how it has been for some time. This is business as we have known it.

    If you wanted to bring your weird stuff into this paradigm – spirituality, relationships, consciousness, art, sex – you couldn’t advertise it at the front door. You had to smuggle it in the back door.

    You had to ‘Trojan Horse’ it.

    The Trojan Horse marketer is the one who pretends he’s normal, professional, conventional, but is secretly doing something he fears you wouldn’t understand.

    She tells you she’ll teach you effective leadership strategy, when actually she’s doing deep transformational work with you. He tells you his course will help you pick up women, while he’s actually teaching you the art of authentic relating.

    It was the only way you could make a business out of consciousness.

    And many of us still believe that’s the way we’ve got to play it.

    The days of the Trojan Horse marketer are numbered

    People are dying for meaning, depth, originality, vulnerability. Authenticity.

    They don’t want to be sold to, by some faceless corporation. They don’t want dry perfunctory newsletters that advertise a bunch of discount offers. They don’t want business to feel like business.

    We want real connection. We want to feel someone’s heart, what they stand for, what they care about, where they’re afraid of, how they want to change things, why they give a shit about this weird and wonderful world of ours.

    The language of old business was effectiveness.

    The language of new business is connection and authenticity.

    The Trojan Horse strategy while necessary for so long, is fast becoming a liability. Because it’s based on a façade.

    You think you’re getting a gift from the Greeks. You’re actually getting an invasion force. You think you’re getting a normal business product. You’re actually getting something that you didn’t even know you needed.

    It’s the opposite of transparent authenticity. And the people who want your weird woo-woo consciousness products are far too wise to fall for your façade.

    The market wants the real you

    You don’t have to smuggle the weird stuff in any more.

    In fact, if you’re in the business of consciousness, and you’re still playing the Trojan Horse strategy, it’s probably hurting your business.

    The old strategies are dying. Fast. Their effectiveness is waning, on a monthly basis.

    You’ve got to switch it up.

    I know you’re hiding behind conventions because you’re afraid to get real. I get it. It’s totally understandable. But it’s not going to work. It’s probably already not working.

    Show yourself. Your real self.

    Into tantric monkey spanking? Come out. Despite the possibility of ostracism, you don’t get to choose your authentic fetishes.

    You’re a closet libertarian, you thinks the occupy Wall Street stuff was a crock of shit? Yes, your left wing liberal friends may accuse you of having sold your soul, but you may also discover that your true views aren’t as fringe as you thought.

    Inexplicably drawn to psychedelic rune reading? Yes, your more straight laced customers may beat a hasty retreat, but they’ll leave a space for a bunch of new folks who love themselves some rune action.

    Your Trojan Horse strategy may seem like it’s keeping your business afloat. More likely though, it’s actually protecting your ego from the discomfort of revealing something true and vulnerable.

    Time to get real

    I know you’re holding back. I know it.

    I know there are what seem like a whole bunch of good reasons to stay held back. I get it.

    And I know there’s something slowly twisting inside you. You’re not where you want to be. You’re not who you want to be. And you know it.

    And yet, you still hold back.

    I get it. There’s a lot at stake.

    It’s your identity. It’s the image you’ve been cultivating. It’s the story you’ve woven of who you are, and what you’re capable of. It’s fear of the consequences.

    And, you know it’s time.

    Time to tell it how it really is.

    That used to get you fired. Old business likes the predictable, secure stuff. They want the conveyer belt to keep chucking out the same safe thing day after day.

    Throw a spanner in the works. Break the rules.

    Show yourself.

    Your real customers will thank you for it. Profusely.

     

    Ewan Townhead

    , ,

  • You’re here for a reason. It’s not a mistake.

    You have to work to do. You have things to create, wisdom to convey, gifts to offer. Your work is just that. It is your Work. It is unique. And if you don’t create it, the world will never have it.

    Your work is something you did not ultimately choose. But it is something that if you commit to uncover and give it, will transform reality in ways you can’t imagine.

    Your work is to create the Work you were made for.

    And yet as we follow the path of living our work, reality tests us. God challenges us. We doubt it. We doubt ourselves. It’s inevitable.

    There are stories we so often tell ourselves, that stop us from offering our true work to the world. They’re stories I’ve told myself, they’re stories my clients tell themselves, they’re stories my friends have told themselves.

    The stories will always spin. But when you mistake them for the truth, the world is robbed of your genius, and you are robbed of your destiny.

    Here are 6 such stories. And how to re-frame them.

    1. Who am I to…

    Who am I to write about the spiritual nature of business? Who am I to coach people on business success? Who the fuck am I to call my brand The Realized Entrepreneur!?

    I doubted it all. I was terrified of arrogance. Of pretending a level of authority that I neither felt nor deserved.

    There’s a myth that we need to have mastered something in order to teach it. You train to become qualified, and then you teach.

    I train for 5 years to become an engineer, then I start engineering. I spend $12,000 on coach training, then I start being a coach.

    This myth relies on the notion of expertise; that I need a certain amount of knowledge to qualify as someone who can then practice. It’s a two-step process. Novice, expert. Student, teacher.

    On the deepest level however, we are each asked to teach that which we most need to learn. The very thing that we are afraid of, yet are attracted to, is our teaching. The very thing that we struggle with, yet are captivated by is our lesson.

    Do not wait until you feel qualified to teach it. Do not wait until it feels safe to give it.

    The journey into the unknown is anything but safe. The winding cosmic pathway toward expressing your God-given essence is littered with discomfort.

    But it is also imbued with light. Follow the light. It’s in you.

    It is you.

    2. I’ll be Judged

    They’ll say I’m arrogant, or delusional. They’ll condemn me, as worthless, or worse. They’ll dismiss me as a naïve narcissist. I’ll be judged.

    Yes. You will.

    People will judge you. They’ll judge you for sticking your head up above the safety line. They’ll dismiss you. They’ll attack you. They’ll ignore you. They’ll bad-mouth you.

    You can’t escape it.

    As Seth Godin says: “You can’t both fit in, and stand out.”

    If you offer your true work, you’ll stand out. And you’ll indirectly illuminate the fact that there are people who are scared, and who are hiding, and not giving their work, and they know it.

    When you shine, they’ll squirm. And the more they squirm, the more they’ll look for a source of the pain and discomfort. And if they don’t look at themselves, they might look at you.

    Your enlightened offerings, have illuminated their shadowed ambitions. Your piercing brilliance, has highlighted their dark desires.

    And if they aren’t vulnerable enough to burn in that discomfort, they’ll disperse the energy.

    The more you offer your true work, the more those who aren’t, will assess and judge you. It’s not a sign that you’re getting it wrong, it’s a sign that you’re getting it right.

    It’s nothing to do with you, or even them. It’s just God inviting us all deeper.

    3. This will ruin my reputation

    My family will never look at me the same way. I have a carefully created reputation with my community and customers, I don’t want to risk that by putting out this risky stuff. No-one will take me seriously if I say what I really think.

    When a relatively little known researcher on vulnerability decided to see what would happen if she presented her study findings while actually showing her own vulnerability, she was terrified it would ruin her professional reputation. 20 million video views later, and Brene Brown’s reputation as a global leader in vulnerability is well established.

    A reputation that is not based on your true work, is a reputation that insulates you from what you’re called to create.

    Something old needs to be broken down, before something new can be created.

    What is the box you have created for yourself? What is the label you’ve carefully applied to you and your work? Is it truly you? Truly you?

    Maybe not.

    4. I don’t know if it’s good enough

    I don’t know if it works. I don’t know if I like it, or if anyone else will like it. I don’t know if it’s good enough.

    Doubting quality means you’re in true creativity. Creativity comes from the frothy space of tension between success and failure. If it’s sure to work, it’s not creative.

    It is not your role to judge the value of what you create. That privilege lies with your tribe, those you’re serving.

    It’s not about perfecting it, then giving it. It’s about experimenting and then experimenting. It’s about the never ending dance, at the edges of your lived expression, as you offer what seems to be in your soul, and the world around you responds with peculiar originality.

    It’s about never knowing if it’s good enough. Because it’s not about good enough anymore, it’s about brave enough, or surrendered enough.

    I wrote a piece recently. I didn’t like it. I wanted to bin it and write something else, but I didn’t have time. So I threw it out, and people loved it. They wouldn’t have, if I’d have listened to my own judgement.

    Are you brave enough to share the work that you literally don’t know the quality of?

    Are you surrendered enough to discover who you are, and what your work is, as you continually give it, and the world continually responds, and you continually pivot and weave, and the world continues in its immeasurably beautiful dance?

    5. I don’t want to be seen

    A couple of months ago someone plagiarized one of my articles. And I don’t mean ripping off a few lines here and there, I mean the whole 1800 word thing, copied and pasted, under his own name.

    I swapped emails with the guy. I assumed good intent. He gave me some pseudo-spiritual justification for the deception. I asked him to attribute it to me. He refused. I decided to share about the episode on Facebook, as it was happening.

    The thread went crazy. My website traffic sky-rocketed. I felt delighted. I felt uncomfortable.

    The next morning, I sat down to journal about the experience. And I realized that the uncomfortable feeling was one of not wanting to be seen.

    I felt exposed. I felt illuminated. I felt witnessed. I wanted crawl back under the cover of obscurity.

    I knew this wouldn’t be the last time. It felt like a watershed moment. I knew I couldn’t go back. People were starting to see me. I was scared. And it was exactly what I wanted.

    I do want to be seen. I want my work to be seen. By thousands of people. Maybe millions. And I’m scared. And so are you.

    6. What if it’s not my true work?

    I’m just not sure this is my true calling. I’m just not sure that this is what I’m here to do. What if this isn’t my purpose? What if I’ve got the wrong thing?

    Your true work is not a thing. It’s an ever evolving expression. It’s not something you discover once, and then spend your life making. It’s something you continually deepen into, finding new edges, new delights and new expressions.

    Your true work is discovered by continually creating what you believe your true work to be, and weaving as you go, reflecting, adjusting, pivoting, embracing.

    To try and clarify and define it before you start creating it, is futile at best.

    If you don’t know what your true work is, then you have a huge open space within which to go and explore. Don’t deliberate. Create.

    A wonderful man taught me something recently. He said: “Ewan, just jam a stake in the ground and then fucking go at it. And if things change? Move the stake, and then fucking go at it.”

    It’s not about getting it right. It’s about going at it, and getting it wrong. It’s about the going, not the getting.

    Go create your work.

    Releasing yourself  from story

    Stories are like old soundtracks that you used to like listening to, but forgot to turn off. Can you hear them? They’re humming along in the background, drowning out the voice of your creative expression.

    Don’t shout louder. Get quieter. And when you really hear them, you can find the off switch.

    The world wants your work. And I know you want to give it.

    It begins with the smallest step imaginable.

    A whisper.

    “Yes. I want to create my true work.”

    Ewan Townhead

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  • We can think of marketing as having two different ways.

    The first way of marketing is presenting ourselves, skillfully, strategically, deliberately.

    It’s writing our persuasive website copy, designing a logo that gives just the right feel to the brand, it’s concocting our taglines that inspire and inform people.

    This is the common form of marketing. It’s important.

    The second way of marketing is revealing ourselves, transparently, vulnerably, passionately.

    It’s sharing the blog that we don’t want to share because it’s too personal, or feels inappropriate. It’s offering our naked heart, without agenda.

    This is the less common form. It’s essential.

    You could think about the first kind of marketing as being about surfaces. How do I appear to the world? What will people’s first impressions be? Will I be attractive to my ideal clients?

    Surfaces are not less important. It’s like wearing clothes, or getting a haircut.

    The second way of marketing is about the heart. It’s revealing who you really are, even though you may doubt the strategy of it. It is removing the curtains, beautiful though they may be.

    The realized entrepreneur understands both these ways of marketing. For he understands that he is both depth, and surface. She wants to be seen for her true heart, and for her true skin.

    He works hard to create surfaces that reflect his depth in powerful ways – marketing that can attract people magically.

    And she also remembers that the heart of meeting is in revealing herself, and relating to the world from chosen nakedness.

    This First Way of Marketing Is Like Makeup

    I love it when my partner wears mascara and eye-liner. It brings out her big beautiful blue eyes in such an evocatively delicate way. It draws out her natural beauty. It helps me see more of her. I love seeing her.

    And then there’s the woman whose make-up is so thick and loud, that I cannot see her true face. Her natural beauty is smeared over like a mask that she hides behind.

    Salt, I find, is a wonderful ingredient for bringing out the flavors in a dish. I taste them more. But too much and it tastes like something fake and unpleasant. Sometimes, food can be so salty, I don’t know what the natural flavors actually are, or even if there are any.

    So many people are marketing themselves with mountains of makeup and salt, while our hungry marketplace is crying out for something real, something heart-full, something truly beautiful.

    Marketing Is Simply Relating

    Marketing is a practice of relating with the world around you, not persuading the world of your worth.

    Marketing is about seeing your community, clients and customers. And being seen in return. It’s a practice of speaking and being spoken to.

    Makeup is good, and fine. Use it to bring out your attractiveness, and have those with roving eyes notice you amongst the crowd.

    But don’t hide behind it.

    The first way of marketing is an invitation, not a mask.

    What’s in your heart? What do you care about so much that you feel ashamed to shout it to the entire world?

    I want to meet you, feel you, see you.

    Know you.

    Will You Show Yourself?

    You are beautiful.

    It’s not a beauty that can be assessed according to a universal scale, or compared to the beauty of another. It’s yours. Truly and completely.

    And the more you are able to push the voice of your anxiety away, and disclose that beauty, the more the natural world will rise up to meet that beauty.

    When you reveal yourself, your true self, your true community will discover you.

    If you fake it, and manufacture your image from the form of another, you will attract people who are meant to be served by another.

    If you craft your marketing with thick makeup, trying to persuade the world that you are someone you are not, you will attract customers who relate with you as that someone you are not. And they will expect of you, the promises of that someone you are not.

    And they will not be served.

    And you will not be seen.

    Let your marketing be a full expression of who you truly are, and not a mask to divert people’s powerful gaze.

    Let them see you.

    Let those who turn away, turn away.

    Let those who come closer, come closer.

    Ewan Townhead

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