The Sweet Spot Between Audacity and Humility.
A story about finding balance in a complicated world.
When you search on the Internet for quotes on audacity and quotes on humility, the majority of the results focus on the topics of ethics and leadership. Much of the content is from spiritual or political leaders, waxing poetic on how humility is the key to their values, and audacity is the key to their success in life.
“Humility is the solid foundation of all virtues.” Confucius.
“The first quality that is needed is audacity.” Winston Churchill.
But the two nouns seem diametrically opposed when it comes to the life of an everyday human being. How can one be incredibly bold, while also having a “modest estimate of one’s own importance?” Yet, these two states of being are what our society preaches for a life of impact and a life well lived. Be great, but be modest. Work hard, achieve, and above all, be confident, but don’t be too proud…because that’s inauthentic and self-involved. Balance between these states seems to be the golden ticket, but the ticket to where?
Let’s back up out of the land of philosophy, and into the land of reality for a bit. Hi, I’m Erica. I’m a 28 year old professional. And I graduated my undergraduate studies in 2009, which was a complicated year to start adulthood. For those of you in your late 20s and early 30s, you remember how bad that economy really was, and how hard it was to find any job, let alone a job you loved and a job that supported you. So, after going to college and living in Los Angeles for four and a half years, I moved to New York, where there were more jobs, less driving, and where I knew just enough people to feel like I would have a supportive friend group and network.
I prostrated myself — at networking events, to family friends, to professional connections of old bosses, to people I met at coffee shops, and to people I met online. I applied to hundreds of jobs, mainly in environmental issues, nonprofits, and public policy (that’s what I studied at USC). And job interview after job interview, I was told to go to graduate school, because the market was too competitive due to that terrible economy. Ring a bell?
But furthering my education, a dream of mine for a long time, didn’t feel quite right yet. I was 23, and it was too early to make a decision that would have such lasting ramifications on my life, career, finances, and more. Timing is everything, and it wasn’t time for grad school yet.
As my savings dwindled (and blogging about indie music barely paid my rent), I found myself reading a copy of my favorite newspaper in December 2009, The Economist (you may be thinking that’s a magazine, but in fact, they call it a newspaper). A six month contract job in the New York office was posted in the newspaper’s classifieds, and I immediately applied online. Four months later, the gig was unexpectedly mine.
I lasted two years there, extending my six month contract to an adventure across departments. I ended up working in digital, launching the first ever internal innovation accelerator at a media company, all because I was one of the first in the company to use twitter. Though my career path in media and technology was unexpected, it was exciting and rewarding. I “leaned in” audaciously, achieving some real successes. I built stuff that mattered, and I showed up to my work with integrity, drive, a collaborative approach, a curious mind, and lots of passion. And having a rad boss didn’t hurt.
Then, I joined a startup we worked with, Storyful, pioneering the way news is discovered and verified across social media (who later got bought). I learned a lot there, continued writing and falling in love with the news world, and met some of the smartest, most interesting people along the way. Ultimately, I made pretty fresh lemonade from that lemon-filled economy. By the time I was 26, I was known for my work and felt pretty great.
Then, after spending my early to mid twenties in the modern version of the public eye — marked by nonstop networking, working energetically, speaking on panels, burning the midnight NYC oil, and actively growing my career, professional and personal circles…I hit THE proverbial wall.
You know the wall I’m talking about; the it’s hard to get out of bed, but I have so much to do, and people are expecting to see me, but I’m not up for all of the noise, general sense of malaise and a bit of disappointment wall. I felt a little like a millennial Camus. It’s not that I broke down, but more that I crashed right into a series of questions I couldn’t ignore. Daily, I was operating a bit like a robot, enjoying my life and the people I met, but also questioning how I had gotten to this place. Life felt a little too surreal, in that awkward “how did I get here?” kind of way.
After three intense years, it seemed like I wasn’t walking the path, the path was walking me. I was working hard, but getting frustrated (welcome to startup life, and to the distressed environment of news in the digital age). Working across timezones (both The Economist and Storyful were based five hours ahead of New York) had taken a toll. My stress levels had me on a roller coaster. I was traveling a lot, but not necessarily the kind that rejuvenates. I was seeing certain friends only every few months. I was definitely not dating in a meaningful way (but found myself going to three-four weddings every year…to all my single ladies, you know how THAT feels). My dad got really sick, and the burden was mostly on me to set things in order, and go back to Chicago (where I’m from originally) every two-three months. The only true constant in my life was my very lucky living situation in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, where I’ve lived in the same apartment for almost five years now. Does my story resonate? I bet. I think they call it a quarter life crisis…
So, I decided to take *my version* of a break.
The break was more of my replacement for graduate school. Most people choose to further their educations in their mid-late 20s, but in today’s climate, and with the movement to change higher education, I opted for my own self-driven curriculum. I consulted part-time for news companies; did I even still want to work in news and digital media? It was time to find out. I focused on building my network of newsletters connecting people working and traveling between New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and London . I wrote a lot more, especially longer journalistic pieces. I discovered that I still deeply cared about news and digital media. My newsletters, and experience at my previous jobs led me to believe that curation, and the ability to find quality content quickly and effectively on the web, still hadn’t been solved for the everyday, busy consumer. So, a few friends and I explored an idea to fix curation on the Internet. It was a break of structured, project driven work with the ultimate goal of figuring out my place and path in the world. It wasn’t quite grad school, but it was definitely more than loafing.
Ultimately, my “break” and my return to a more humble lifestyle (as opposed to the audacious public eye one where I was a Forbes 30 Under 30 and was expected to keep meteorically rising in the news industry) was driven by questioning; was what I was doing having the impact on the world and the impact on me that I truly wanted?
In other words, was my life being lived with the right kind of purpose? Was the path that had been walking me the path I had chosen to walk on? I remember sitting at my computer in summer 2013, scanning the myriad social networks, my overstuffed email inbox, responding to texts, and trying to keep up with the news, all with a general sense of malaise. Facebook asked me my current status, and all I could think was:
“Current Status: Reevaluating.”
During this “Current Status: Reevaluating” moment, I battled with myself a lot. My job had been a big part of my identity. In not having a consistent job, or representing a brand, how did I fit into the world? Where was my passion going to go if not to my job? If I wasn’t waking up every day, clear on what I had to accomplish, then wasn’t I just a waste of space, time, and humanity?*
But, I’m not the type of person to let existential questions floating in and out of my head all day keep me from doing the things I love and seeing the people that make me happy. This “break” gave me the flexibility to say yes to more travels, adventures, and opportunities. These included, but weren’t limited to: helping run The Thousand Network (previously Sandbox) in NYC, joining NPR’s millennial advisory board Generation Listen, going to Burning Man twice, learning to ski in Utah on one of the most magical mountains with Summit, reading “The Artist’s Way” (and yes, self-help books written in the 1980s stand the test of time), spending a significant amount of time cultivating a sense of what I’m looking for in a romantic partner, working on (and dropping) a book proposal, becoming a more organized person, discovering the power of hemp (milk, seed, oil), cultivating a stronger meditation and yoga practice (and mind body spirit connection), going to friends’ birthday trips out of the country, because I had the time to, and don’t have a pet or a child to take care of at home, and the list goes on…basically, because of my attitude and how I had managed my personal finances, I was able to actually enjoy my break when I could. And rather than being hard on myself until I had buried a hole in the ground for my head, I created the space to say yes…and subsequently experienced the deepest emotional and spiritual growth period of my life to date.
Well, that was unexpected.
Here’s the thing: I believe so strongly (and always have) that life is more than work, so I walked that walk. Of course I felt guilty sometimes (as a workaholic would). But other times, I felt more alive than ever. And I’ve never heard anyone say they regret true adventures or growth.
It was on these adventures and in these conversations, with these other incredibly smart, open, and curious people, where I had true breakthroughs, and solved some of the challenges I had run into in my everyday life. Some of these challenges would include: how does healthy living fit into a work life of a twenty something in NYC, how do we learn to truly vacate from our technology when we’re on vacation, what are the things most important to me in a partner and what does a healthy relationship look AND feel like, and what kind of business would I want to build if I could, to name a few.
Speaking of work, through consulting and in building two businesses, I learned an inordinate amount about news, about growing communities, and how to figure out what people actually want when they don’t know how to tell you. I got a lot more comfortable with public speaking, moderating panels and running storytelling workshops. And maybe most importantly, I learned what I don’t want to do on a day to day basis (be behind a computer or be selling a product I’m not completely obsessed with). I also started talking more about self-reflection as the most important thing missing from our education and career development.
So even though I was on a break, and some days were incredibly hard, I was ultimately up to a lot in the last two years. But I kept it close, and only really shared the journey with my closest friends and family. And in doing so, I learned a resounding lesson:
Being too under the radar is just as bad as being too high above it. In other words, being just the right amount of known for your work and for your impact is paramount to leading a wonderful, impact-filled life. Being too humble actually leaves people confused about where you fit, and it can lead to a major crisis of confidence, especially in today’s oversharing-oriented digital age.
Even as I was reevaluating, I was making things happen. But I wasn’t talking about it. Because in those moments, I saw it as reevaluating, and not what it truly was — living a balanced and curious life.
That product and big idea I mentioned earlier? It’s been built. It’s been up and working in a real meaningful fashion for over a year now. It’s called Catchpool, and it’s the BEST. I wake up everyday excited to work.
But, I came up with the idea in March of 2013. And I was quiet, only sharing it with those incredibly close to my team and I. I was quiet about the wins. I was quiet about the losses. And I let myself forget that the value of flying above the radar is that the crowd really can lift you up.
I forgot to reach out to all of the professional and personal friends I’d met over the last seven years of working and ask directly for their advice, for their support, and for favors. It was a mix of fear, of self-doubt, of impostor syndrome, and of disorganization (make a list of all of your contacts yesterday — seriously — especially if you want to start your own project, business, or startup). And I didn’t tap into the power of Shih (Sun Tzu’s ingenious articulation of momentum, or the build up of power and its manifestation in the natural world — as Bowdoin explains it, “shih is the ever-changing configuration of power in one’s environment”). I was leaving my power and the people that contribute to it on the table.
In tech speak, I was in prototyping mode, gathering information and experimenting. I was in alpha mode. But now, it’s time for product launch, and a true human beta mode.
I know this now. So I’m finally changing my status. I’m no longer reevaluating. I’m directing my, and the world’s shih. It’s time to discover the perfect balance between being not too under the radar, and not too high above it. It’s time to find what I’m calling the sweet spot between audacity and humility. Because once you know what both extremes feel and look like, then it’s hopefully easier to figure out the right balance, and to find the center, right?
There has to be a proverbial place where people know what you’re up to and feel included and able to support you, but where you also feel like you still have some sense of privacy and power. There has to be a place where you can set your own expectations, independent of what others think, satisfy them, and feel like that’s enough. And there has to be an intersection where your goals and expectations intersect with how the public sees and supports you, because that to me is a place of true impact and purpose. I think this is what Winston Churchill and Confucius mean when they speak of audacity and humility. Really, it’s about balance.
And when it comes to impact and purpose, I’ve found that it’s not enough to just be good at what you do; the power of individual expression is amplified to its highest potential through community. After all, humans are best when with their tribe. And our tribe is integral in helping us choose the path we walk (or dance, which I prefer). The tribe I’ve been a part of over the last few years has been one of if not the biggest reason for my personal, emotional, and spiritual growth. Community is a huge catalyst.
My tribe and I lost a dear friend, fellow adventurer, and audacious human being in the tragic earthquake in Nepal a little over three months ago. He was on Everest, planning to attempt his second climb, and recording images for Google Street View. In mourning together, I’ve been reminded of the life-altering power and energy of community and of my tribe. And Dan left us all with the reminder to #livedan and boldly act, taking advantage of each and every moment, all while deeply caring about our impact on the world. I wake up almost every day now, reminded to trek on the path of audacity.
So what now? After two years of growth, and of building the beginnings of a business, and a stronger sense of the life I want to live…I’m going to spend the foreseeable future building the world’s first truly conscious, ethical digital media company. Our bigger goal is to help people live a truly balanced, beneficial life between the digital and physical world, AKA the lucky life I got to lead while I was building Catchpool. That’s the path I’m choosing, but it’s also the path that chose me. In my two year “break,” I found my path, and it found me. Now, it’s time to find the sweet spot.
My theory is that sweet spot between audacity and humility is right where I need to be to live my purpose and make my impact. As one of my inspirations, the mother of modern dance, Martha Graham, aptly stated, “There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.” I’m on a mission to discover my sweet spot, and that’s my blessed unrest.
If this resonates with you — or you’re hitting your own wall of questions, are looking for balance (see my hopeful SXSW panel on finding calm in a busy place and please vote for us!), trying to figure out how important it is to take care of yourself when you’re building a business, or feel inspired by what we’re building — email me at erica at catchpool.com, I would love to hear from you. Listening to others, and listening to myself over the last few years, has become one of the things I look forward to most each and every day. After all, stories can only be told if we listen to each other.
~Erica
*If you’re feeling like you don’t know what your passion is, and that society necessitates you having one, read this amazing piece by Andrew W.K. on finding your passion, or letting it find you.
Thanks to my friends and editors Mattan Griffel, Sloane Davidson, Susan Mcpherson, Tobias Rose-Stockwell, CBM, Wendy Wecksell, Lori White, Greg Ferenstein, Emily Marsh, and Joanna Pawlowska.
