• This is part two of a three-part series leading up to the publishing of my first book—Artist, Merchant, Seeker.

    The book that will be released this Spring is about three archetypes, and how they form the basis of your work, no matter the profession or specialism you play in.

    These are very different archetypes, with entirely distinct ways of approaching the work of life.

    • The Artist is the creator in you, who makes things from the mysterious passions that light you up inside, forming artefacts of beauty that touch and move people.
    • The Seeker is the one who searches for the truth of this life, learning the nature of who we are and how the world works, bringing back wisdom that can be taught to others.
    • The Merchant is the trader in you, who offers the value you possess, in the marketplace, because mutual exchange benefits all of us, and propels our communities into richer lives.

    These are universal archetypes, and core to our work, but we tend to be native in one of these. And there’s one that feels foreign and unfamiliar.

    For me, and many of the people I work with, this is the Merchant.

    I’ve been long fascinated by the archetype. Because while it’s not native to me, I realised early on in my work life, that it was key. I couldn’t have named it that way. I just knew that if I wanted to make a difference in the world, in the way I felt called to, the path led through business.

    In inner city Sheffield where I grew up, Merchants were people with corner shops. I didn’t know any entrepreneurs. My social circles were filled with Artists, creatives and spiritual Seekers.

    My first business was high on idealism and low on know-how. Our one and only client was HolacracyOne who we helped to put on their first training events in Europe. At the first event, I asked one of the leaders, Tom Thomison what one business book he’d recommend I read (since I had never read one).

    I read it—Verne Harnish’s Mastering the Rockefeller Habits. It was the first book on a long path of self-learning. I’ve read a lot of business books since then, though I’ve probably spent more hours listening to business leaders and entrepreneurs on podcasts. And even more time learning through the direct experience of running businesses.

    I’ve studied the Merchant deeply, because it’s a place I have resistance, struggle and allergy. My native instinct is to steer away from the corrupting influence of the marketplace—to keep the dharma pure.

    So, in this article I’m going to reveal the heart of the Merchant archetype, and decode the dilemma that so many of us struggle with—how to embody its power without falling foul of its shadow.

    The Heart of the Merchant

    I love archetypal work, because it takes us to the root and heart of things. It helps us see the underlying code, as distinct from the infinite expressions we see around us in the world. This has been particularly important for me with the Merchant archetype.

    At the heart of the Merchant is a relational ethic—one that drives them to do good. They orient by what in the modern world we would call value. We use a sophisticated monetary system to track value and enable us to exchange it.

    For this is the central move of the Merchant—to trade in value, such that both parties benefit.

    If the thing I sell you is worth more to you than the value you’re paying, and the reverse is also true for me, then we’ve created extra value. More goodness, that didn’t exist before our exchange.

    This is a first principle of economics. When you take that principle, and build systems that allow and encourage it, the world becomes wealthier. Our modern culture is a living example of this.

    When this principle is channelled through an open heart it produces mutual thriving, progress for the community at large.

    When the underlying strategy is employed through a closed and wounded heart, we see instead into the Merchant’s shadow.

    There’s an idea I learned from Joseph Campbell. That you can see what’s centrally informing a society, by who creates its tallest buildings.

    It used to be castles because we were informed by conquest. Then it was temples and cathedrals because we were ruled by the gods. Now it’s skyscrapers because we are ruled by commerce.

    We are currently living through peak materialism. The Merchant sits at the height of his power.

    We are all reaping the unprecedented benefits of this. I am writing this, and you are reading this, on machines that were total science fiction not too long ago.

    And yet, as Gandalf teaches us, you cannot hold the ring of power without being affected by its corruption.

    The Shadow of the Merchant

    The shadow form of an archetype is what happens when it uses its power for dark aims, when the power is corrupted.

    The Shadow Merchant uses the power of trade, innovation and persuasion to win, at the expense of others. The move is driven by greed—an insatiable striving for more and greater. But the hole is never filled, and the scale of the enterprise never enough.

    While the heart of the Merchant’s ethic is mutual benefit, in its shadow form, this becomes singular benefit. And so, if the Merchant can win—at the expense of their customers, suppliers, or the environment itself—they will.

    In its darkest form this becomes gross deception, where the promised value the Merchant is offering does not even exist. It’s a scam.

    To live in this world is to live in the glory of the Merchant’s light, and the corruption of its shadow. For both are loud and present.

    And yet the shadow is not simply collective. I say this, in the (forthcoming) book…

    “The Shadow Merchant—if you’re willing to look—is plain to see. It’s all around us, cleverly using its power with greed, making profit at the expense of the wider good.

    Seeing this, though, can lead to a tragic mistake. Faced by the ugliness of the Merchant’s shadow, and not wanting to perpetuate its immorality, we then throw out the Merchant as a whole, declaring the whole game corrupt.

    This puts the Merchant in our own shadow—tucked away, where we can’t see it, and don’t use it. This then creates an internal suppression that robs us of our power to help and succeed. For the most precious and valuable work will do no good if it is not offered in the marketplace.”

    The Dilemma We’re Facing

    This, I think is the crux.

    It’s so easy for me—and so many people I know—to see with wide open eyes, the shadow of the Merchant, and resist its power. We fear being corrupted. Selling out. Selling our soul.

    And so, we’re stuck in a dilemma.

    Keep it pure and hide at the outskirts of the marketplace.

    OR

    Sell out in order to enter the centre of the marketplace.

    Faced with this choice, most of us choose to keep it pure. Anything rather than sell out.

    But the problem is the question itself. The dilemma itself is based on a false premise. That it’s either one or the other. It’s not. So, what’s the third option?

    It starts with integrity and honour. Don’t sell out.

    But neither can you avoid the act of selling itself.

    Rather, you learn how to courageously sell the value you possess, embodying the heart of the Merchant, without violating your ethical code.

    Though even knowing this doesn’t fully dissolve the dilemma. Even if we can choose to trade with integrity, why do so many of us still keep to the margins?

    In my experience, the story comes back to us, and our own insecurities.

    It’s easier to condemn the slimy marketplace and play it safe on the margins, than it is to step boldly forward, and be a stand for your own integrity.

    We fear we’re not strong, conscious or smart enough to work out how to do it ethically and effectively.

    This manifests as a feeling of insecurity—not fully believing in the value we possess. Or as a feeling of incompetence—unsure how to play the game in a way that works ethically and practically.

    This is central to the work I’ve done with my coaching clients over the years. It’s often the reason people come to me.

    The Merchant’s dilemma is not really about commerce and corruption. It’s about our own self-doubt.

    We doubt that we have enough value. Or enough mercantile competence. So, we play it safe. But the result is helpful for neither us nor the people who would really benefit from what we have.

    The solution is to find your own Merchant’s heart, trusting that your integrity will not be compromised. This same integrity is what will help you stand out in a marketplace full of shadow.

    I still remember writing the proposal for the people who became my first coaching clients twelve years ago. They were (lovingly) bugging me, asking when I would make a proposal for the work we’d talked about doing.

    I was filled with self-doubt, incredulous that I had the skills to help these amazing entrepreneurs, or that I could charge the amount of money I wanted to. I felt incompetent, unsure how I would help them with the marketing goals they had.

    It took me several days of writing, agonising over the right wording, trying to craft the offer to feel powerful, honest, and appealing. I remember sending it off, utterly unsure what would happen, but resolute in the knowledge I’d played my hand as best I could.

    I got a short email back very quickly “Yes, Ewan! We’re in”.

    This is the heart of the Merchant at work.

     

    Ewan Townhead

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  • There’s an idea I’ve been fascinated for years now. It’s one of those things that has endured through different businesses and phases of my life.

    It is the idea that there is a new kind of professional role being formed in society at large – a kind of entrepreneur who is soul driven in some sense. A role where one’s professional work, is not seen as distinct from their spiritual path of awakening. It’s why I called my previous brand The Realized Entrepreneur.

    At the end of last year, I started writing about an archetypal way of modelling this character. I suggested that this new professional could be seen as the integration of three intrinsic archetypes – the artist, the merchant and the seeker.

    I then suggested the intersection of these was the hero.

    Honestly? I’m not convinced I’ve got the mapping quite right. But after a few months exploring some different writing avenues, I’m returning to this map in search of answers. Specifically, a topic that’s gnawed at me for years, that is, how on earth do art and marketing fit together?

    Temperamentally, I usually love creating new stuff, and desperately resist marketing it. And I know I’m not the only one that is like this.

    Is that because marketing is for shallow schmucks who can’t create interesting enough stuff that people naturally pay attention to?  Or is this my precious pretensions restricting me from actually publishing myself?

    Can the artist and the merchant work together?

    The Artist

    The artist is principally concerned with creativity. His objective is to create something original, something that provokes a deeper experience of the world, or elegantly solves the most complex of problems.

    Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and so the artist creates things that they themselves find beautiful. They create to meet their own taste.

    They are driven by the creative impulse. And creativity, as Seth Godin so eloquently defines it, is the tension between “this might work” and “this might not work”. If you know it will work, or you know it will not, it’s not creative. If it’s pre-determined it’s not art.

    Art is not painting, it is not poetry, it is not design. It is what is created when we venture beyond the border of what we know, and allow the mysterious forces there to guide our hand as we create something that intrigues us. The artist knows that he does not truly control this creative process. 

    And so the artist is one who is furthest away from the mainstream. They are by definition at the fringe, for it is only at the fringe that you will find the boundary between the known and the unknown.

    The Merchant

    The merchant is principally concerned with trade. Her objective is to relationally connect with other people and swap what they each possess, and improve the lives of everyone involved.

    The merchant operates in a relational space, connecting those who need something, with those who can supply it.

    The marketplace is a full and bustling arena that determines what is good and needed. And so the merchant seeks to understand what is in short supply, what is in high demand, and how to best make trades that fill people’s needs.

    The merchant trades in value. She seeks out objects or goods, that she believes will be of value to those she can reach.

    The merchant believes that what they have to offer is valuable – that it would help others – and so they feel no shame in promoting their wares to others. For in fact, to withhold their wares would be to violate their chief objective and belief: that consensual trade is good.

    And so the merchant is one who connects people, allowing them to relationally exchange for their mutual benefit. They are by definition in the midst of things, for it is from the middle that the different sides can be connected in mutual exchange.

    A philosophical clash of values

    From the perspective of the artist, the work of the merchant is ugly.

    The artist looks at the trading that makes up the merchant’s nature and sees only presumption, and manipulation. The merchant seems to increases the shallowness of life which the artist seeks to deepen.

    The artist never presumes to know the needs or will of another. This is the antithesis of their work. To presume the mind of another and to create something for them – to meet their need – is not art. This would be to prostitute their creative talents for money or mutual exchange. In other words, to “sell out”, which to the artist is an aesthetic crime. And the merchant has made an entire career from selling out!

    Thus the artist condemns the merchant as ugly, shallow and greedy.

    The merchant is equally distaining of the artist. She looks at the artist as a narcissist. How does it help anyone to make such weird and odd things to satisfy one’s own personal whims? It seems to the merchant like a naïve and wasteful use of time.

    The merchant thus judges the artist as useless. For art does not help people with their needs, it is an indulgent luxury. What people need, are things they want to come back to day after day, things they will consistently trade for.

    The creation of art is unpredictable. The productive output of an artist is unpredictable, and the value of the art produced is unpredictable. The merchant is concerned with mutual benefit, about meeting the needs of others, and so from her perspective this creative unpredictability looks unproductive and selfish.

    Separation is no longer adequate

    While it has historically possible – perhaps even necessary – for these two archetypes to stay separate and pure, today’s world cannot sustain their separation.

    The artist needs the merchant. Because it is only the merchant who can be impartial as to the value of what the artist creates. The artist is so caught up in his creations that he finds it hard to step out of himself and effectively offer his art to those that would benefit.

    The merchant is guided by value exchange, and value is determined not by her own subjective opinions, but by the intersubjective consensus of the marketplace. If her customers thank her for a particular offering and return wanting more, then she trusts it is valuable. Her judgement of worth is intersubjective. Whereas the artist judges subjectively – whether he himself is impressed or moved by his creations.

    The merchant also needs the artist. Because left to her own devices, the merchant will simply rely on offering what the marketplace asks for. She will have no motivation to look deeper under the surface at what new innovation is required. As Henry Ford famously said (actually he didn’t, but he should have done because it’s a wonderful quote) “If I’d have asked people what they wanted, they would have said ‘faster horses’.”

    The needs of the market change. Things move on. And without the innovation of the artist, the merchant will continue to peddle popular and proven goods, being increasingly left behind, as evolution pushes the edges of what people need.

    These two opponents need one another.

    Without the merchant, the artist becomes increasingly obsessed with his own creative explorations, becoming out of touch with society at large, and not providing things that help and move people.

    Without the artist, the merchant becomes increasingly shallow, providing value that is popular, losing touch with the leading edge, and not risking new things that will change society.

    The necessity for integration

    The challenge for many of us, is that we must play both roles ourselves. Or at the very least, I would suggest we need to integrate these archetypal orientations in such a way that they are not at odds in our own psyche.

    The larger and more idealistic hypothesis is that it is the integration of these archetypes that will lead to the resolution of so many philosophical conflicts in our world.

    I’ll leave that grand idea for another day, and simply say that I believe it is imperative that we at least understand the intrinsic perspectives of these archetypes.

    As a native artist, my unconscious tendency is to fall into snobby distain for merchant activities.  If I’m not careful, marketing begins to  look rather ugly and uncouth, and I instinctively begin to distance myself from it.

    But unshared art is useless. Literally.

    The unconscious biases may be different for you (although I suspect many of you who read my work tend toward the creative and artistic). Nevertheless, the principle is the same – to progressively understand and embody these archetypes, allowing them to integrate and create a new kind of professionalism, a new kind of work.

    I would even suggest that bringing one’s art to the marketplace is one of the great evolutionary requests of this new world. It is a least one that burns brightly in my heart.

    For never before has art been so accepted in the marketplace, or more needed. But to bring our creative work to market means resolving philosophical conflicts that have deep roots.

    Playing favourites is not adequate any longer.

    Integrating these historically opposed worlds is what will contribute the creation of a new one.

    Ewan Townhead

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  • What’s the point?

    I don’t mean, in the self-deprecating fashion that we can be prone to. The one where the internal voice whines “oh, what is the point?”

    I mean, what’s the point – the sharpened statement that conveys the essence of what you do?

    Do you know?

    Do you have it written down? Do you tell people?

    The age of specialism

    I remember those times when someone asked what I do, and I had this vague response that killed any curiosity they’d had a moment before.

    “I’m an entrepreneur.”

    “Interesting. And how long have you lived in Amsterdam?”

    In a crowded marketplace, where more and more people are setting up their stalls, sharpening the point of what you do is what distinguishes you from the throng.

    This is the age of specialism.

    The mass market is full up.

    The ones who succeed are those that get ruthlessly specific about who they serve, and how they serve them.

    So that they can get on with the business of serving them.

    Help people make a decision

    When someone reads your website, they want to make a decision. They want to decide if you’re someone who could help them.

    The word decision means the opposite of incision. To make an incision is to cut into something. To make a decision is to cut away the excess.

    They want to cut away the unclarity.

    “Yes. That sounds exactly what I need right now. I’m interested.”

    “No. Not what I’m looking for at the moment. But thank you.”

    It’s your job to help them make that decision.

    The point of your work, is the tip of the sword. The sharpened point, where the breadth of everything you do, comes down to one small and refined idea.

    A sharpened point is what allows you to sink the blade of your service deeper into their being, opening up possibilities, freeing potential.

    It’s what allows the person you’re relating with, to decide if they want to spend more time with you.

    The magic is in the specificity

    “I help designers be more effective.”

    There are a million people helping designers now. And everyone wants to be more effective. What do you really do?

    “I help designers create beautiful work that moves their clients to tears.”

    The sharper the point of your blade, the deeper it will go into those who want you, and the more powerfully it will turn away those who need another’s help.

    The magic is in the specificity of your words.

    The clarity is not just for them

    It’s for you too.

    If you know – because you’ve worked hard to hone the words – what the point of your work is, then it becomes obvious when you stray from the path.

    If I have left the point of my work dull and blunt, then my penetration into the world will be dulled and blunted.

    Bluntness begets bluntness.

    Sharpness begets sharpness.

    And we live in a time where people want the keen blade of truth, to open up their world in beautiful ways. A time when they want the right person. One they trust.

    Show them the point of your work, so that they can go deeper, if they want to.

     

    Ewan Townhead

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  • I’m writing an ebook. I thought it was finished, then I discovered it wasn’t.

    It will be out later this year, and it’s called How to Market Your Art. So, as a little teaser, here’s a very practical description of some of the main ways I market my own art.

    First though, a quick word about ‘art’. When I say market your art, I don’t just mean paintings, or songs (although it could be those things). I mean your Creative Work – the expression of who you are through artefacts that move and provoke people.

    Everyone has their own art. It may be more or less visible. It may be more or less skilfully expressed. But your art is your art.

    And then there’s sharing it – marketing it. This is where ‘artists’ traditionally possess less skill, or more resistance. But it’s crucial. Because art doesn’t count if you don’t share it.

    So, here are the 3 main ways I share my art.

    I’m only going to write about three, because they’re the only ones I can speak to with lived authority. They are not the best. They’re simply the ones I find most aligned with my work (so far).

    1. I write on this blog

    As a writer, this is my most important platform. It’s where I put my most in-depth and rigorous work. I’ve written very long articles, and shorter pieces. I’ve written practical business articles and I’ve written poetry. If anyone asks about my work, this is where I always point them.

    I don’t have a strict publishing schedule. Normally every couple of weeks or so I publish a new piece. I’ve experimented with weekly. At the moment, I’m incredibly sporadic with publishing here due to the writing of the ebook, and various other excuses!

    I only write about the things I want to write about. I have an ongoing list of article ideas. Sometimes I pull one out and sit down to write. Sometimes I just journal and something comes out of it. Sometimes I plan something out heavily in advance. Sometimes something pops up and I have to sit down and write it out.

    Most of my writing will never be read in public, because most of it isn’t very good.

    I write for me first, and my audience second. Which doesn’t mean I don’t constantly think about what would help my tribe. But I’m an artist first, and unless I’m writing something because I want to, because I feel called, it normally falls flat.

    Sometimes writing for me first means the first draft, and then I reframe it during the re-edit. Sometimes it means writing the piece I really want to, and then writing a second one that addresses something I know folks are coming up against.

    Both aspects are crucial. Writing for me. And writing for others.

    Titles are important. I try to write article titles that do two things. Firstly, a title must represent the piece accurately. Otherwise, I’m being misleading or vague. Secondly, a title must be written to draw people in. Attention is at a premium. Write titles that really elicit curiosity for your tribe. Sometimes it’s hard, don’t sweat.

    These were some of the titles that really worked for me.

    The Most Powerful Question I Know

    Speaking Your Truth can be a Trap

    6 Stories that Stop Us Creating our True Work

    It’s a loud market place out there, and you do have to interrupt people. Here’s no way around that. Good titles interrupt people’s newsfeed scrolling…

    “Oh, that sounds intriguing…” *click*

    2. I email my tribe

    When I work with my clients on their marketing, this is the platform I almost always say is a non-negotiable. If you want to grow your tribe in today’s marketplace, a mailing list of the people in your tribe is basic necessity.

    It’s important because this is the place I get to speak directly to my core tribe. These are the folks that have given their explicit permission to speak to them. They want to hear from me, they want to be led deeper into the ideas that I write about.

    If you have an engaged list of several thousand people (which is no small tasks these days) that like what you offer, then you probably have a sustainable business (at least for you the artist).

    An email list is like your tribal meeting hall. Every time you have something you want to share with your followers, you can simply drop your words into an email, and suddenly, they all get it, direct to their inbox.

    I use Aweber for my email list, I’ve used it for years. Mailchimp is also good, and is free for the first 1,000 subscribers.

    When I email my list, I try to be very personal, very direct, and ‘un-markety’.

    You know those lists you’re on and every time their email arrives in your inbox, a voice inside your head says “Oh nice! I love their emails, let me go read it” – that’s what you want with your own list.

    Don’t write newsletters, write letters, like you would write to your friends. Don’t try and ‘sound professional’ just be your post-conventional self.

    “Hey Horatio, I wrote a thing about un-markety marketing. I’ve wrestled with doing good marketing without being an ass for a long time. And I had some interesting thoughts about it this week. I think it might help you. Here’s the link, I hope you like it.”

    There’s no formula for email. Everyone has to find their own groove. Here’s what I would advocate though.

    • Show yourself, write in the first person, don’t be ‘professional’
    • Tell people what you have for them and why you think it will be useful or interesting
    • Tell them what you want them to do. Be direct. “If you’re curious, click this link.”
    • Write to them consistently. It doesn’t have to be on a schedule, but these are your peeps, be in relationship with them.
    • Train them to expect good stuff when they open your email, or click a link

    Email lists are secure, private and powerful. The rules can’t be changed on you suddenly, like on Facebook or other centrally controlled platforms.

    Whatever your art, whatever you create and share, allow people to easily stay in close relationship with you. Have sign-up boxes on your website. Invite them in warmly. Tell them what they’re signing up for, explicitly

    “I’ll email you every couple of weeks with my new stuff. I hope it serves the shit out of you. Unsubscribe any time.”

    And then welcome them when they sign up. Maybe you want to give them a gift for signing up. Maybe you don’t. But welcome them. These are your people.

    3. I write on Facebook

    Facebook is a powerful and unique platform, if you use it the way it’s designed to be used. Facebook is not a marketing platform. What I mean by that, is…you can’t directly promote stuff on Facebook. Well, you can, but it will probably bomb.

    “Do you struggle to be productive when it comes to phalange making? Sign up for my free webinar: “Phoebe’s 7 secrets to powerful phalanges.” It’s free, but places are limited.”

    You might get a couple of ‘likes’ but mostly, people really dislike this stuff on Facebook. It’s like walking into a party and trying to flog your latest thing. People are there to socialize and share connection, not listen to your pitch.

    Here’s how I use Facebook. I learned this from Michael Ellsberg who is a fabulous writer and has a wonderful course on the art of writing for Facebook.

    1. Learn to notice when interesting ideas float past in your mind. Get used to grabbing them with a butterfly net. They happen naturally, practice seeing them.
    2. If an idea has a somatic feeling with it – a fizz in your chest, gurgles in your chest, excitement, fear – then stop what you’re doing and open up Facebook.
    3. Type right into the status update box (don’t copy and paste from Word), and share your thoughts. Reveal yourself, don’t self-edit. Don’t try and sound clever. Get vulnerable. Share what you’ve learned, or how you see something. Share your process or your story.

    Because people are bored of pitches, and inspirational quotes, and cat pictures, and political choir-preaching.

    They’re also tired of what Michael calls bliss fronting – showing only the good shit, in a dis-proportionate way, or an attention seeking way.

    “OMG. I just had the most amazing meeting. I’m blown away.”

    “I just love myself so much. Life is awesome. I’m awesome. Wow.”

    It’s the bliss front. What about the shitty backside? Show us. Why did the meeting impact you? Why do you want to share it? When do you also not love yourself? Tell me vulnerably how awesome you are. Or tell me what’s been really hard for you, and how you navigate it.

    I’ve used Facebook to push my edge with my writing. I write about anything that interests me. I’ve shared very tender personal things about feeling like a little boy who just wants everyone’s attention. I’ve written about politics and stirred dissent among many old friends.

    And that’s the thing about Facebook. It normally contains a pretty diverse range of people from your life. And it can feel almost unbearable to write things on there that you would really rather certain people didn’t know about you.

    Your edge is yours to find and flirt with.

    What I will say is that Facebook is an amazing space to practice self-revealing. If you can tell people on Facebook that you’re actually into BDSM, or Astrological therapy, or Libertarianism, or you’ve just divorced your partner, or your father died, then you can tell anyone.

    Some people may unfollow you. Let them. And new people will friend request you. Let them. You have no obligation to please your Facebook friends. It’s your party. If they don’t like your toasts, then encourage them to leave, with love.

    And then share your art there too. I post all my blogs on Facebook, along with a short message. I’ve had an awful of people find my work through Facebook. An awful lot.

    Just remember, it’s a social-network, not a marketing-channel.

     

    Ewan Townhead

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  • Sometimes when I sit down to write these more instructional posts – the one’s where I’m trying to teach you something that practically helps you – I assume a position.

    I hear myself with this haughty voice in an upper-class English accent.

     “I, Lord Ewan, in my superior consciousness, and infinite generosity, I will impart the knowledge which you, dear muggles, have yet to command as I have. Now, listen carefully.”

    I’m sorry. It’s my way of covering my own insecurity. It’s been a life-long habit.

    Because in reality, the topic I’m going to tell you about here (honestly, like all of the things I write about) is one I still consistently trip over. I’ve studied and practiced marketing for 7 or 8 years now. And yet I’ve always done so with a slight begrudging tolerance. And I wrestle with it continually.

    I have some nasty marketing allergies. Perhaps you do too. And if you do, I want to offer you and I some anti-histamine.

    Because marketing – when done right – is powerful as fuck. And too many of us are turning away from that power, because we don’t know how to grasp it both honorably and effectively.

    If that resistance to wielding the power of marketing is something that affects you, then I hope this article will help.

    So here are five of the most common marketing allergies and beliefs I see. And how to heal them, so you can get on with the work you’re here to do.

    (And you may notice that a lot of my imaginary marketing examples have do with sex. It’s apparently on my mind a lot at the moment.)

    1. Marketing is immoral and manipulative!

    “Buy my six secrets to sandwich sex and you too will have the life of your dreams”

    And if I’m feeling lost, desperate, and a yearning to have the kind of sandwich sex I fantasize about, I grasp onto the promise. And if the promise does not match the reality, I feel played, tricked. You told me I’d have the life of my dreams! And I did everything you told me to, and I’m still impotent. The cheese and Gherkin baguette alludes me still.

    Marketing – like any form of communication – can indeed by manipulative. But simply because we have a lot of internet-marketing vacuum salesmen, it does not therefore mean all marketing is manipulative.

    Let’s think of a scale. On the extreme right is manipulation. A deliberate inflation and misrepresentation of the truth that is designed to generate maximum short term sales.

    On the extreme left is apology. A contracted deflation of what is offered, to minimize sales through fear. I’m afraid that my product is not worthy or good, and so I downplay it. Which is just as manipulative, it’s just bent the other way. And incidentally, this is often far more comfortable a manipulation for those of us with marketing allergies.

    The centre point is persuasive translation. I’m going to be honest first and foremost. I’m not going to deliberately misrepresent the truth. I am however, going to try and persuade you of the value of my offer, in language that you can understand.

    You have to spell it out, and convince them of the potential value. You have to overcome their limited understanding, and educate them.

    “Why would I need to buy a jewel encrusted butt plug? My regular rubber one is fine. It does the job.”

    “Well, you probably don’t need it. But my experience of this plug is really different. When I use it, I feel like a queen. It feels regal and classy, and it helps me overcome my shame of using such a “seedy” thing in the first place.”

    “Oh, that sounds cool. I like that. Ok, I’ll try it out!”

    2. Marketing is inauthentic and shallow

    If I market myself, I need to put on some kind of persona. I need to look like those other chaps who are great at marketing. With snazzy squeeze pages and red arrows, and bold promises that sound too good to be true.

    So much of marketing is outward focused. I call this deterministic marketing. It’s what we normally think of as marketing. We determine who our target customer is, we determine what our product is, we determine what our brand is, and then we go out and enact strategies that get those target customers to be attracted to the brand and buy our stuff.

    As I’ve written about before, there are real problems with this approach, particularly if you’re at early stage of your business. But even if you’re a seasoned entrepreneur, this approach often runs into inauthenticity anyway.

    Because if you spend all your energy trying to determine the right models and brand for your customers, it can be easy to forget your own self, the way you naturally show up or say things. Which is why you need to counter-practice with the flip side of marketing.

    Revelational marketing is the practice of showing yourself as you are, and allowing the tribe that naturally fits you, to find you. It’s the opposite of determinism. It’s surrender to current reality. Reveal who and how you are, and see who organically resonates.

    Both are important. And when you marry the ideal (deterministic marketing), with the real (revelational marketing), you get a very powerful partnership.

    Many ‘experts’ teach only deterministic marketing, and it can indeed look very inauthentic. Probably because it is. It misses the subject. You.

    Show yourself, over and over again, and you will discover deeper and deeper layers of your own authenticity, and the way you creatively want to market your offerings.

    3. Marketing is trashy and cheesy

    “Hi, I’m Yousef Yaffle, CEO of yousefyaffle.com, and today I want to tell you about my new free ebook: “Seven steps to conscious consultant success sex” (actual value $74,497). Sign up below for free, and you too can fuck your clients consciously, and make six figures, and lose 20 lbs, just like I did.”

    I literally gag sometimes when I read people’s marketing pitches. It’s the snob in me. I’m an artist, and aesthetically ugly prose makes me turn my nose up, and climb up on my high horse.

    It can be a bad habit.

    I sometimes shy away from really pitching people. I shy away from owning my own value. I hide behind a sheen of mystery, because to my artistic mind it feels so much cooler.

    But marketing does not have to be vomit inducing. What’s the alternative? Beautiful originality. Not the same old landing page. Not the same old hook. The same images of folks standing on cliffs with their arms out.

    But here’s the kicker. You do have to learn the rules before you break them. I see a great many folks who want to already do ‘next paradigm’ marketing when they haven’t even succeeded with traditional paradigm stuff.

    Philosopher Ken Wilber would call this a pre/trans fallacy. There’s a developmental direction to learning. When you’re new to something, you don’t know the rules and best practices. You’re pre-conventional. Before conventions. This is step one. Then you read some books, get some coaching, and learn how to run a product launch. You learn the rules. You get the conventions. This is step two.

    And then you can break them. You can be trans-conventional. Beyond conventions. You know the rules, and you consciously break them, the final step.

    The problem is that step one and step three – ‘pre’ and ‘trans’ – can look very, very similar, because neither one is conventional.

    And there are a lot of people claiming to do conscious, authentic, new paradigm marketing, but they’re not. They actually don’t know what they’re doing, because they haven’t gone through the hard yards of learning the core principles of marketing, and understanding why those conventions have existed for a long time.

    You do have to learn the art of copywriting, and communicating the benefits of what you offer. You do have to learn the nature of strategy, and how to build pathways that your tribe can follow. You do have to learn the art of headline writing, and calls to action.

    Marketing doesn’t have to be cheesy and pukey. It can be intensely creative and beautiful. But if you don’t learn the rules before you break them, you’re curse will most likely be ineffectiveness. An artistically original sales page that doesn’t help people buy your thing is beautifully useless.

    4. Marketing promotes greed and selfishness

    Because it’s designed to generate revenue, sales, and money….for me!!!

    Unfortunately, so many of us still have bullshit neo-marxist narratives around money.

    “Money is corrupt, or evil. If I earn more of it, I’m taking it away from someone else who may need it more than I do. Me earning money creates inequality.”

    These stories are based on a shitty understanding of economics, and they really get in the way of you making a difference to the people that need you.

    I apologize for any rudeness and condemnation you find in my words. I’m still disidentifying from my own bullshit money narratives! And there’s a wee-bit of resentment still, that I believed them unquestioningly for so long.

    Because money is not what we think it is.

    Money is a neutral indicator. It’s like feet and inches. Except it’s not measuring physical length. It’s measuring value. As I get better at coaching, I put my prices up, because I’m creating more value, and it’s worth more to people. It keeps everything in balance and flow.

    But still the narratives of greed and selfishness swirl.

    “It’s selfish of me to market my stuff. I don’t want to annoy people, be too salesy, have them slam the proverbial door in my face.”

    And that’s part of the game. You will annoy some folks. Especially the ones with strong anti-money narratives. They might send you rude messages.

    The antidote to the selfishness story is this…

    Who are you not to tell people about what you offer? What if your stuff could really help someone, but they don’t know about it, because you didn’t want to self-promote?

    A friend told me a story. He was at a conference for spiritual teachers. And one of the shallower and gregarious teachers had latched onto some very interesting folks who had asked for help. He was pitching his stuff to them shamelessly. And another teacher, a deep and honest one complained to my friend. He condemned the self-aggrandizement. And my friend chastised him.

    “You would be a much better teacher for those folks. But they don’t know about you, because you’re sitting here with me feeling disgusted. And they’re gonna end up working with that other guy, because he’s not afraid to pitch his services. And they’re gonna get burned. And that’s your fault.”

    So long as you’re honest, unmanipulative and authentic, then your self-promotion gives other people a choice. If they know about your offer they can choose you, or they can choose someone else.

    If you rob them of that choice by staying silent, you’re being selfish.

    (Boy did I write this section for myself…)

    5. Marketing is for attention seeking narcissists

    “Look at me! Look mummy, I can do a headstand! Look! Look!”

    “Look at my website everyone! I made an amazing workshop, it’s amazing! Look! Look!”

    I feel that part in me that wants people to see me. I want to feel adored. Loved. Liked. I want to banish the trauma of primary school, when I struggled to fit in. When people would pick me next to last for the football game. Or when I was the only one left without a partner for the science experiment.

    Maybe if I get lots of people to look at me though my work I’ll finally feel loved.

    This one kicks my ass. It’s so insidious.

    I’m scared of to death of too many eyes being on me. It’s why I avoid public speaking, it’s why I hated performing as a musician. It’s so exposing. I feel naked. Vulnerable to their disdain.

    And yet, I want people to see my work. It feels so good when I get recognition.

    The paradox.

    The fear of being seen.

    The desire to be recognized.

    Pulling at each other, twisting me around. I probably shouldn’t write about this one. I’m still in it up to my neck in it. But at the heart I know it’s simple.

    Yes. I want your attention. I want you to look. Because I think what I’m saying could help you. And if there are a million people who would be served by my words, then I want a million people to read them.

     

    Let’s take my own medicine.

    Sometimes we can’t do it alone. We’re at some kind of juncture, we’re called to step out into the world more fully, or we want someone to help make our next big offering as successful as possible.

    You’ll recognize the feeling if this is you. It will be whispering, or shouting to you right now as you read these words. “It’s time. Reach out to someone who I just feel could help.”

    If you feel I could be that person, let’s chat.

    I offer a 6-month Liberation coaching package. This would be a good fit for you if you’re called to a new level of yourself. You want to crack out of the old, and step into the new. Clients who work with me in this way often don’t have a clear idea of why they want to do it. There isn’t an obvious tangible goal. They just feel an intuition. It’s time.

    I also offer a 3-month Launch coaching package. This is specifically for people who have a new product or offering they’re wanting to design and launch. I help guide you through the stages it requires to effectively and authentically get your thing to the people that want it. Starting where you are, and finishing when your enrollment is complete. I’m there every step of the way as an advisor, coach and thinking partner.

    You can read about some of my previous client’s experiences here.

    If you want to learn more or jump right in, email me at ewan[AT]therealizedentrepreneur[DOT]com

     

    Ewan Townhead

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  • You probably have an idea that you haven’t made and shared yet.

    I don’t know exactly what it is, but if you think about it, you probably have a bunch of reasons why it’s not time to share it with the world yet. Maybe it’s an idea for a course you want to make, or a workshop, or a painting, or a show, or a book, or even an entire business.

    The process of turning an idea into a real thing can be an arduous one. Especially if the idea is dear to me. In fact, the more exciting the idea, the more important it feels, the more confronting the prospect of actually manifesting it usually feels.

    And while our procrastination is utterly understandable. It is also, I believe, unnecessary. And I want to tell you why, and how you can take a different route to the creation of your inspiration.

    The day I drunk my own medicine

    I’m about to lead the final session of a group coaching program I’ve been running for the last 7 months. It’s been a special experience for all of us.

    The group looks little like the vision I had in my head when I conceived it. It’s not even the promised program that I enrolled people into.

    It started with an interview I did. Towards the end of the interview I was asked what final piece of advice I had for people watching. I said “launch before you’re ready.”

    I’d been practicing the principle for some time with my writing – publishing things despite my insecurity wanting to endlessly tinker with them. I’d published more regularly than my perfectionistic ego felt was safe.

    I’d launched my website the previous year before I felt ready as well. I’d procrastinated for months, and so in the end, after some help from a friend, I launched, with simply a front page. It had the name on it, an evocative picture I’d found, some prose and vague promises and a sign up box that offered free updates (I didn’t mention the fact that I didn’t really know what I’d be updating you on).

    So when I answered the question, and said “launch before you’re ready”, I contracted for a moment. I realized I’d just busted myself. Because I was thinking about launching a group program for the first time, and I was procrastinating, and I wasn’t taking my own medicine. I confessed this to her. And I said I’d follow my own advice.

    “If you are not embarrassed by the first version of your product, you’ve launched too late.” – Reid Hoffman

    And so the very next week I followed through. I put a small note on the bottom of a blog article I published. It said…

    “If you want to really dive into this, I’m going to be running a new small group coaching program called Creating The Work You Were Made For.

    I’ll be inviting 6 people to work with me closely for 3 months, and learn how to connect to, create, share and sell their essential work. Interested?

    Write “I’m interested” in the comments below and I’ll email you more details.”

    And a bunch of people did. And I enrolled the program from that group of folks.

    You don’t need to pretend you have all the answers

    I tell you this story, not to demonstrate any competence that I may possess. But to try and illustrate a point. That if you have something you’ve been thinking about creating and sharing, there is a way to succeed, without having to know all the answers, or plan the whole thing exhaustively, or know where it will end.

    If you instead use your authentic ignorance as a part of the launch itself, something very powerful is allowed to unfold. Because you do not hoard all the creativity for yourself, you allow your followers or clients to participate in the creative process with you.

    I didn’t know exactly what my program would look like, I didn’t know exactly what the curriculum would be or how I was going to structure it. I had a theme and a rough skeleton, but little more.

    But the seed of the idea was clear. It was a group program for 6 people, over 3 months. And it would be about helping people create and share their own true work. So that’s all I said.

    Now let me be clear, there is a difference between telling people about your thing before it’s finished, and there’s dumping a big pile of confusion on people and expecting them to sort the quality from the chaff. The first one takes courage, the second one laziness.

    But our tendency so often, is that we wait too long. The ripe fruit is not shared, we think it needs to mature further, until it begins to go black. So that’s what I decided to do. I shared the fruits of my idea.

    If no-one had commented on my invitation, I would have binned the whole thing right then. It would have stung my ego for sure. But at least I would have got real feedback immediately. It would have stung a hell of a lot more had I spent 2 months designing the program and writing extensive marketing materials for it, and then no one had commented.

    But as people began to tell me they were interested, I went to the next level of detail. I sat down to brainstorm ideas, and then the same day I wrote a letter direct to all the people that were expressing their interest. I tried to tell the truth.

    If you’re reading this page, you must have told me you’re interested in the program I’m running. I’ve launched this program in a somewhat unconventional way. I announced it before I knew exactly what it would be.

    So, from reading this page, you should get a really good sense of what this program is about, but you won’t get all the details. Because I’m actually still designing it, based on who registers!

    In fact, to be even more accurate, if you decide to come and be a part of this, you’ll be designing it along with me, as we go along. It will be alive, organic, unplanned (apart from the meticulous planning I will of course do behind the scenes because I’m a perfectionistic idealist who wants to serve the shit out of you.)

    I told them everything I did know about the program. And I told them where I was vague. And I told them things would definitely change.

    And they did.

    The design process continued throughout the entire enrollment

    The first time I sat down with one of the potential participants things changed. We had a really powerful conversation, I understood more deeply where she was at and what she needed. As we talked about it I realized the time frame felt too short.

    “I have a feeling 6 months would fit better for this thing, how would that be for you?”

    “Actually, that really relaxes me. Yes it feels much better.”

    I checked it out with other possible participants, they agreed. So I changed it to 6 months, not 3.

    Because I’d been explicit in that first letter about the experimental nature of the program, it gave me the freedom to change my mind as I talked with people. Those enrollment conversations were as much about discovering what they needed as they were about me inviting them to participate. I learned so much.

    If I had simply made it all up on my own and then presented it fully determined, I would have missed so much.

    And that is what I love about this principle. That by being explicit that you’re experimentally discovering the nature of your creation, as you create it, it loosens the habit we all have, of pretending we know more than we do, and telling people how it is.

    Launching before you’re ready conquers your resistance

    I’d been procrastinating on the group program idea for a long time. I’d first brainstormed ideas for it 9 months before. Though to be honest, I’d had the desire to run my own small group program for years, and never pulled the trigger.

    “It’s not quite time, I need a bigger following first, or at least a bit more experience.”

    “I don’t know what I’d teach, let’s just let the more mature ideas emerge organically.”

    “The prospect is really hard. I’ll just not put my attention on it so I don’t have to deal with the fact I know I’m stalling because I’m afraid.”

    We justify it to ourselves. “I’m not ready.” Or to be more accurate, I don’t feel ready. We’re trained to prepare and know all the answers. In school exams, or business presentations, or interviews, we’re demonstrate our competence by giving intelligent, comprehensive responses. “I don’t know” is seen as a sign of incompetence.

    By deliberately launching before I was ready, I cut through my resistance in one fell swoop. Once it was out, I couldn’t take it back. Or I could, but I’d look like an ass, which I’m always determined to avoid.

    And all it took was 3 sentences on the end of a blog post.

    Us human beings don’t like looking stupid in front of our peers. So once you let other people know what you’re committed to, it’s a hell of a lot harder to back out.

    And we back out all the time. We have an idea, an exciting idea, we’re inspired, and then we think about how far away it feels, so we back out. And we justify it to ourselves. We say we’re not ready, or not worthy.

    But most of the time, that’s just resistance. It’s your safety zone trying to maintain its integrity. It’s current reality trying to preserve itself. It’s your ego wanting to keep things just the way they are.

    Resistance is cunning as fuck. And insidious. It will take any form it needs to stop you in your tracks.

    You don’t have to wait. You could do it today if you wanted.

    Do you have something?

    Maybe it’s been simmering in the background. Maybe you constantly think about it, and dream of the day when you’ll be ready to actually make it real. Maybe it’s a new idea that feels precious and fragile.

    What’s in your way? A story probably. One that says you need to be more prepared. One that says it would be irresponsible or inappropriate to launch that thing today. One that says you’re not qualified, or that no-one will give a shit if you put out an invitation.

    You may be a lot more ready than you feel. You may know a lot more than you believe.

    Your idea might be vague, or detailed. It might be just a name and an inspiration. It might be nameless and mapped out in structure. It doesn’t really matter. As long as you have something that people can say yes or no to, that something probably is enough.

    “I’ve been thinking about offering sessions for people that want to do naked pole dancing. I’m so passionate about it, I do it all the time myself. Are you interested? Email me at fuckyeah@nakedpoledancingamsterdam.com”

    Because once you release it to the world. It’s not just yours anymore. And it takes on a life of its own. And it takes you on a ride that you could never have mapped out in advance.

     

    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

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  • 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

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  • 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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  • There is a disease at work in our marketing. It’s afflicting everything we do. It is chronic short-termism.

    The desperation to succeed at my new launch, so that my ego doesn’t get kicked in the teeth, and my bank balance doesn’t dip into the stress zone. The eagerness to get as many people to sign up on my list as I can, so that I don’t have to deal with my loneliness and insecurity.

    The disease of short-termism narrows our eyes onto the immediate need in front of us. And it can come with a whole host of side effects…

    • egoic manipulation
    • failing integrity
    • cringing inauthenticity
    • slimy sales
    • clichéd copy-writing
    • uninspired offers.

    The antidote is realizing the bigger game you’re playing.

    The game where you create a thriving tribe. One that endures. One that will ultimately go way beyond you and your work. One that is here for decades to come.

    There’s an African proverb that says: “If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.”

    A tribe will go far, reach far, and make an impact we can’t even conceptualize from where we are.

    When you cultivate a thriving tribe, you create a thriving ecosystem. When you devote yourself to the service of your tribe’s growth, they will grow. When your tribe grows, they will serve you in return, and support your leadership of them.

    A thriving tribe is not only the basis of a truly successful business, it is the basis of a truly successful movement. One where your business can spawn business for others. One where collaboration and cross-pollination feed something entirely new.

    So, here are 4 principles that you want to cultivate, as you cultivate your tribe. 4 principles that when cultivated, will create a thriving tribe.

    1. Intimacy

    I feel you. I feel connected to you. I feel close to you.

    Intimacy is making the inmost known. It’s the closeness that is created when we show ourselves to one another.

    When we are intimate with one another, we are weaving a pattern of interconnectedness. When we are intimate, we create community.

    You create intimacy with your tribe when you show yourself. You start the dance of intimacy when you take the first step.

    When you are truly vulnerable, your tribe will be truly vulnerable in return.

    My most uncomfortably revealing articles have been the ones that people have emailed me about the most, sharing their own tender stories. Intimately showing your inner world creates a space for others to intimately show theirs.

    Intimacy is about the space between us. Intimacy is the sensation of deep connection. People no longer want adequate. People no longer want useful. People want deep meaning.

    Create deep intimacy with your tribe, and you create something meaningful to which people can belong. Create intimacy, and you create belongingness.

    2. Authority

    I’ve witnessed your expertise. I’ve felt your power. I’ve followed your advice, and it worked.

    Authority is what you must practice, if you are to lead your tribe.

    Authority is what is created when you speak your wisdom and serve those who have gathered. Authority is what is revealed when you tap into your natural power.

    Authority is authoring new wisdom.

    As you continually discover more of what you have to say, and your tribe are continually helped by your teaching, your authority will be established.

    Authority is not power over someone. Authority is not assumed or abused.

    Authority is what people recognize in you, when you consistently step into your own genius, and create wisdom and insight that helps them.

    Your tribe give you authority only when you demonstrate your competence to lead them. You step into that authority, when you trust in your ability to create life.

    Authority is what enables people to follow you. A leader leads through wisdom and power. Disseminate your wisdom. Channel your power. Lead your tribe.

    3. Trust

    I know you. I believe you. I can rely on you. I trust you.

    Trust is what all marketing should be designed to create. Trust is what very little marketing actually does create. Most marketing erodes trust, fast.

    If I’m focused solely on maximizing sales for my new thing, then all I need to do is create enough trust that I get you to click buy. After that, I don’t care.

    Trust takes time to create. Because trust is what I feel when I’ve related with you over time, and believe I can rely on your integrity.

    If your actions are in alignment with your espousal, if you walk what you talk, and you do it consistently, you’re enabling me to create trust for you.

    When your tribe trusts you, you don’t need to use marketing psychology to persuade them to buy your new thing. You can just tell them about it, and they’ll buy it if serves them.

    When your tribe trusts you, you don’t need to shout loudly about how amazing your latest offering is, and why it’s going to change their life. You can simply share your heart, and they’ll listen.

    Trust is the antidote to a loud and crowded marketplace. When you have a tribe that deeply trusts you, you can whisper rather than shout. You can offer rather than push. You can create rather than take.

    4. Permission

    Change me. I give you full permission.

    Permission is the agreement to let things through.

    Permission is what your tribe gifts to you when they believe in your authority. Permission is what they activate when they trust you, when they know you, when they choose to follow you.

    Permission is the agreement to be permeable. When something is permeable, it lets things through it.

    A permeable membrane is one that lets water through. A permeable tribe is one that lets you impact them deeply.

    They give you permission to change them.

    They give you permission to love them so fully that they cannot remain the same. They give you permission to challenge their assumed smallness. They give you permission to beckon to their wholeness.

    Permission is what opens up a giant space. One in which we can all change one another. One in which the tribe can establish a whole new way. One in which we can transform things. Forever.

    You Can’t Fail

    Your work is your Work. Your work is to create what you’re here to create. That’s not a short term game, that’s a life-time game, at least.

    You can’t fail at it. You can only turn away from it.

    Go and feed your gathering tribe. They’re hungry for your wisdom. They’re aching for your power. They want to trust you. They’re eager to know you, get intimate with you.

    Go and serve them today, so that they give you even deeper permission to change them tomorrow.

     

    Ewan Townhead

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