Big Life

Novelty

December 8, 2015 · By Amy Swift Crosby

I’m continuously fascinated by how living in a small town can lead to living a bigger life. Maybe it’s because I commute to LA and NYC often enough to feel connected to diverse worlds, but I still think no matter where you are anymore, the world is as you create it. Sometimes when I describe our relocation from Venice, CA to Manchester by the Sea, MA, I call it “when we calmed down.” I say that because I felt like I was living my life on Lincoln Boulevard or the 405, or conversely existing in non-gmo-organic-cotton-couture t-shirts and custom clogs… in our costly but casual neighborhood …doing what people who live there do – which is buying expensive coffee and $18.00 pressed juice (still miss it), meandering our kids in $500 dollar strollers and essentially working hard at looking like we weren’t working very hard. But holy shit we were stressed! Our million dollar house was great but surrounded by drug deals and the thump of drive-by stereo base so deep it moved my home-delivered jars of almond-coconut-Mylk. Our friends with kids in school seemed pained by the process. Police lockdowns became a joke but as “funny” as they were, they bred a strange form of deep stress that we weren’t really all that safe.

I’m not really making an argument for small towns versus urban life – I love them both. But a pig roast at a friends house this weekend made me realize how much my own life has invited more novelty. There’s something about switching lives that’s kinda great. I recommend it. It has also been progressive for my professional life – which seems weird because now I have to go to my former cities to see clients – but I think I’m DOING better work, because I feel more inspired. Hmmm.
So here’s to switching it up. In the name of a new view, new circles, new problems even. Unexpected opportunities arise when you make intentional but disruptive decisions.

No Pants.

December 1, 2015 · By Amy Swift Crosby

Screen Shot 2015-11-15 at 9.05.17 PM When we’re little, people love to see us running around naked. But that gets more awkward (hopefully!) as we age, and it’s the same for our talents. People are forgiving of the raw, unselfconscious efforts of a teenager singing her first recital, or of a first blog post, or even a first recipe, but as you practice and hone your craft, the critics have more room…and justification…to analyze, judge – as well as delete, ignore, swipe. As you get better (and most people do), the bar gets higher. Expectations (from yourself and others) become built in to whatever you put out there – because if the last time was great, the next time will be greater. You begin to walk in bigger shoes, or in this case, wear big, grown up pants.

Remember when Elizabeth Gilbert wrote Eat, Pray, Love, and then did a Ted Talk about how her next effort couldn’t help but be a disappointment? This is not a comparison to a New York Times best selling author…but sometimes, when I do good work, and there’s applause (even from one), I say to myself, “How nice. But can I pull it off again?” There’s some kernel of doubt that lives in me and wonders if that was the last time, a fluke, a one-off. I’ve never been right about this, but the more I talk to other people about this fraud/fail/anomaly syndrome, the more I see that I’m not alone. I guess it’s just so fun to knock it out of the park that it becomes addictive – and we all want that impact every time. If there were a secret to killing it, always, I think we’d all buy it.

But it’s almost impossible for every project, book, product, video, post or presentation to be a best seller. Seth Godin writes ten to twenty blogs for every one he publishes. But knowing this, the thing we can start to understand is what does work, and why does it work, and did it do something for someone somewhere that was useful…without the pressure of epic performance. Ingredients for greatness reveal themselves when you aren’t panicked about…being great.

So calm the eff down. Eyes on the road. Do your work. Measure results. Scrap what’s mediocre. Keep the good stuff. Press play.

Then do it all again.

That’s pretty much the big secret.

Solve If With What.

November 23, 2015 · By Amy Swift Crosby

No rational human welcomes the feeling of uncertainty – that uneasy sense that you can’t see around corners or don’t know where a road might lead. Of course recent events make us feel that the world is more unpredictable than ever. But when you depend on yourself for success, financial stability, reputation, life’s work – the mercurial feelings that demand clearer answers exists all the time. Will this idea work? Is this partner right? Why didn’t anyone RSVP? I don’t even know what I don’t know, which means I really don’t know enough. EEEK!

Because we can’t see the future, and because we have to do something as answers are revealed and work performed, here’s my plan (for myself) every time these feelings arise.

I’m going to give – an in giving, try to create a little bit of certainty for another human being. It gets us out of our own way. And offers the very thing we ourselves often crave; Unexpected grace. But I’m not going to just do anything for someone else. I’m going to do something specific – that only I can do. Could be a talent, a connection, a word, a way of seeing something, to someone who needs it.

Here’s what it does: it gives us a little tiny bit of knowing that we moved another human forward toward something they really, really want – with something only you have – and were meant to give to the world. It gets us out of our own way.

In honor of thanksgiving, let’s just give some small (but hugely useful) thing. To someone. Somewhere. Freely.

It’s medicinal.

DualitÃ©.

November 17, 2015 · By Amy Swift Crosby

Photo thank you @reyalfashion

On level one, you just want to cry and grieve and do something (anything) to help.
On level two, you have to deliver work for a client.
On level one, you want to let them know you care, that we are connected, that their tragedy is in our hearts and minds.
On level two, you have to make dinner.

What happened in Paris, and what is in the news every day, challenges us to live two lives. In one, we go about our days, having meetings, pitching work, seeing friends, making plans, complaining about resolvable problems.

And that’s normal, right? That’s life. You have to run your business, feed your family, listen to a friend complain about traffic.

I find it really challenging to do all this, while I feel all that.
You can’t be all business.â€¨But you can’t be all heart, either.â€¨The only, only take-away for any of us can be that these events have a grounding, sobering affect.â€¨Stupid sh&t just doesn’t matter. â€¨But a lot of other things just really do.â€¨â€¨ I hope somehow goodness can prevail.

Last Days

November 10, 2015 · By Amy Swift Crosby

Last Days on the boat. See you in nine months.

The last days of anything always feel melancholy. Sometimes it’s as simple as the season – saying goodbye to summer. Other times it’s the end of a partnership, a relationship, a business, a project. But last days have such an important role in the way we punctuate our lives – professionally and privately. Last days mean we are in deep presence and appreciation for what was – what it meant, why it happened. But so much of self-help dogma is about finding silver linings and escaping that uncomfortable edge. Well-meaning friends say, “this is just a transition” or my favorite, “when one door closes….” etc. And we tend to agree with them. But maybe we shouldn’t re-market these themes back to ourselves. Because that’s what they are. Marketing. We are typically selling ourselves out of feeling uncomfortable. But why NOT be a little bit blue about the end? Why NOT sit in that feeling for more than a minute? And why do so many of us feel we need to tell ourselves “I didn’t want that anyway” or “maybe it worked out for the best.” Well maybe it did, but maybe it effing did NOT. Maybe you wanted it really badly but didn’t get it. It’s so easy to talk ourselves out of what’s “hard” because enduring it, being in it, seeing who you are in those dark places is brutal. But is it possible we could come out better for having not pulled the parachute too fast?

Risk can be terrifying. Unknowns can be torture. Relationships can feel unsteady. Work can have curveballs. Confidence can be shaken.

The nausea of vulnerability and change are places we don’t voluntarily dwell. But maybe we don’t have to make that go away so fast. There’s something for us in the rabbit hole, as anyone who has ever had dark, uncertain days can tell you. But we have to be there (and stay there for a minute) to find out.

Whatchyou Sayin?

November 3, 2015 · By Amy Swift Crosby

Y Trespassing ou are not for everyone, even if you think you are.
Your customers aren’t all women between the ages of 28 and 42. They’re just not.
Your pricing should be consistent, based on experience, and for certain circumstances, (gasp!) negotiable.
But some things aren’t negotiable, and you should know what they are.

So often we don’t get what we want or what we were expecting because we haven’t been clear.
Sometimes we lack confidence (but don’t want to admit it, even to ourselves.)
Sometimes we don’t know better (and don’t want to admit that either.)
Sometimes our rules, boundaries, pricing, messages, target audience…want to be all things to all people.
Our intentions are good, but not filtered.

I love this sign because it doesn’t mince words.
Could we be clearer in what we say – and what we mean?
Probably.

Might get more of what we want (or at least what we need.)