Today a news article circulated about reCAPTCHA, the annoying system where you type the illegible word to prove you’re not a robot.

Turns out they’re pulling those words from out-of-print or rare books for the google books project. And humans all around the world (whenever they confirm they aren’t a robot) are actually doing what technology cannot to digitise those texts.

I’m amazed at how much good will I feel toward this annoying little process now, where before there was only rage at how illegible the words were. I’m so impressed that I might even consider this company if I ever need that kind of service, whereas before the ‘bad design’ or ‘poor pixellation’ would have had me avoid them.

This is the power of why.

It may not change the facts of a situation, but a clear ‘why’ changes attitudes, it changes perception, it changes the way people engage with you and what you’re offering. Better yet, if people can understand their place in the ‘why’ they’ll be more willing to be personally inconvenienced to align their mission with yours.

Thanks reCAPTCHA PR team for the great reminder of the importance of articulating our ‘why’.

 

I saw a pine tree last week. Beautiful ridged bark, deep green needles and a faint, clean scent that draws you in.

It reminded me so much of a morning Zac and I had at the top of the San Jacinto mountains in the Coachella Valley. The smell of fresh pine needles filled that quiet air, crunching under our feet as we made our way through cold, sunny clearings. Tall pines creating a forest in the desert, 3000ft up on a mountain with the clouds.

As I left my memories, I considered the pine in front of me. It too was beautiful, old, with gnarled bark and even had that familiar clean scent if you bent in close. It made me sad to think that this tree would never know it was a bonsai.

Over the years specialist hands had made tiny cuts to ensure that this tree grew old, with all the appearance and trappings of a mature pine, but never reaching the size and majesty of its potential.

I thought about how easy it is for me to be bonsai-ed by fear.

You’re not enough. Snip Snip.

You’re too much. Snip Snip.

You don’t have the experience. Snip Snip.

You don’t have the guts. Snip Snip.

You don’t have the charisma. Snip Snip.

 

Fear is insidious like that, if I let it have its way… it won’t destroy me, it’ll shrink me. Fooling me into thinking that I am mature, that I’ve arrived, that I’m everything I can be.

Sure, I may look like the real thing, I smell like the real thing, heck I may even be the real thing. But don’t for a second entertain that I’m anywhere close to what I’m capable of.

What has fear been snipping away it in your life?

Is it time to go rogue and reject its scissors, time to be more mighty than you could ever have thought possible?