Sam Muchai

“May your cup runneth over…”

This begs the question: how big a cup?

The logistics of vessel size determine how much money we need to raise, how big a team we need, how many customers are necessary to break even. When we’re on the hook to fill an Airbus transatlantic flight with passengers, the business is fundamentally different from a small commuter airline in Rhode Island.

And it’s not simply the financial and organizational mechanics that matter.

We can’t help but compare.

Is a million dollar sale a big deal? Not if your organization was counting on something ten times as big.

It turns out that the absolute size of our cup isn’t nearly as important as getting the relative inputs and outputs in sync.

The sound of confidence

It’s a blend of two things. “I’d really like to help you,” and, “If this isn’t for you, that’s okay, there are others it might be a better match for.”

Generosity, not arrogance. Problem-solving, not desperation. Helpfulness, not selfishness.

Its tempting to believe that our actions follow our beliefs. Thats what we do, it seems, and so others must as well.

In fact, just about always, our beliefs arise as a result of our actions.

If you want to change what people believe, change how they act.

There’s “regular luck” and “earned luck.”

When a stranger dies and leaves you $10,000,000, that’s regular luck. Undeserved, unearned, a bolt out of the blue. Someone is going to win the lottery and it might be you.

The other sort of luck happens after a lot of focus and effort.

This is the third novel that becomes a bestseller, or the hard work that turns into a promotion to VP of sales.

It’s easy to imagine that earned luck is well deserved, because it is. But quite often, earned luck, while earned, doesn’t arrive.

Acknowledging the boost from our good luck doesn’t diminish the hard work we put into the project. In fact, it celebrates it.

It’s hard work to stick around long enough to get lucky.

Often, the things we want the most aren’t directly related to the things we need.

In fact, they might be very similar to things we already have.

Wants are fueled by stories, and stories come from culture and connection and marketing, not from our actual physical or spiritual needs.

“Will it work?”

Along the way, we’ve been pushed to load our decisions with a need for certainty. It’s easier, it seems, to not try than it is to fail.

But the question, “is it worth trying?” unlocks possibility.

A surgeon in the middle of an operation should probably not experiment with an untested technique. But a writer, a leader or a musician can make that question part of their craft.

It’s the only way we learn.

Periods were an extraordinary invention. It took thousands of years of writing before we settled on this simple convention.

The most direct way to improve your writing is to make your sentences shorter.

I was reading a magazine article yesterday and was rapidly losing interest. The topic appealed to me, but I couldn’t keep reading. Then I noticed that halfway through the first column, I was still on the same sentence.

We have trouble keeping that long a string in our heads at once.

You can make sentences too long.

But it’s hard to make them too short.

Pharmacists used to mix chemicals by hand to create prescriptions.

Opticians used to grind lenses from scratch.

Lawyers used to start with an empty page.

Graphic designers needed to know how to draw.

All of these jobs are still important. None of them are the same as they were thirty years ago.

In your work, are you fighting the change or leading it?

It’s hard to see us going back.

I remember some time ago having a conversation with a young married girl who said she was really having trouble living the Christian life. She felt that she was doing things that weren’t pleasing to the Lord, and she just didn’t seem to be able to turn that around, to change that, to make it different. She confessed that she had been “seeking more of God” is the way she put it. She was trying all the spiritual experiences. She had gone into a charismatic environment, and she had tried to speak in tongues. She had even been “slain,” as it were, in the Spirit, as they call it.

She said, “I’m trying to get all I can get from God.” And my response to here was,

https://www.gty.org/library/sermons-library/80-414

Momentum activities like public speaking, board sports and leadership all share an attribute with riding a bicycle: It gets easier when you get good at it.

The first error we often make is believing that someone (even us) will never be good at riding a bike, because riding a bike is so difficult. When we’re not good at it, it’s obvious to everyone.

The second error is coming to the conclusion that people who are good at it are talented, born with the ability to do it. They’re not, they have simply earned a skill that translates into momentum.

There’s a difference between, “This person is a terrible public speaker,” and “this person will never be good at public speaking.”

And there’s a difference between, “They are a great leader,” and “they were born to lead.”

The thing about momentum activities is that we notice them only twice: when people are terrible at them, and when they’re good at it. That includes the person you see in the mirror.That is the error you need to avoid.Its a process which everyone can work on.