THE LOOP
Cassidy

Skin In The Game

"The best way to complain is to make things." - James Murphy

 

I saw this quote in Tim Ferriss' 'Five Bullet Friday' email this morning and at first it didn't really resonate on my first pass reading it. After I read it again, it made way more sense in a personal way and I immediately made a connection to a recurring frustration on social media. 

 

One of the more common Facebook comments I encountered while manning our social media channels is some form of the following: "Of all the things you could invent, *this* is what you came up with?" To which I would respond something like, "We're continuing our work on solving world hunger on the evenings and weekends, but now you've piqued my interest and I'm really interested to hear about your invention? (insert wide eyes emoji here)"  

*Note: humor mixed with sincerity and a dash of sarcastic irony is my sweet spot.*

 

What I took from this quote, as it relates to this example, is that if you haven't put in the sweat equity, the hard work, the countless hours, then you have no foundation to stand on when you question someone who HAS. That's not to say that guests shouldn't offer feedback or constructive criticism - that's always appreciated - but if you don't have any skin in the game, the criticism probably won't be well received by someone who actually does.

 

The answer is to make things, create, push yourself, get outside the box, do things at which you'll fail, stretch yourself...building that credibility is the best way to relate and question and constructively criticize. But having skin in the game also probably means that you understand the peaks and valleys of creativity and creation infinitely better than you would have otherwise (which, in turn, means you're probably far less likely to criticize someone actually doing it).

 

Connor

Perspective

As I walked into the warehouse yesterday morning, I was greeted with the question, “Connor, do you eat the ends of a loaf of bread?” To most this would seem like a strange question, but with my oddly passionate opinions on food, it seemed perfectly reasonable to me. “I never eat the end pieces” I answered, “because I see them as the beginning pieces”. At first my fellow crusaders seemed puzzled, but soon made sense of my different perspective on the matter.

 

I bring up this seemingly irrelevant conversation because recently I have had a change in perspective. Due to school starting back up, I am only able to be in the office three days a week, which I really, really hate. However, after looking at my situation from a different perspective, I’ve realized how lucky I am to work for a company that I actually want to get up and go to work for! It is truly an awesome feeling to wake up and be excited to go to work (after a cup of coffee, of course).

 

Anyway, happy Friday everyone! This weekend is going to be nice and sunny and in the high 50s, so if you want to know where I’ll be, you can catch me outside!

Olivia

Yes, Of Course It Hurts

Yes, of course it hurts when buds are breaking. Why else would the springtime falter? Why would all our ardent longing bind itself in frozen, bitter pallor? After all, the bud was covered all the winter. What new thing is it that bursts and wears? Yes, of course it hurts when buds are breaking, hurts for that which grows and that which bars. 

 

Yes, it is hard when drops are falling. Trembling with fear, and heavy hanging, cleaving to the twig, and swelling, sliding – weight draws them down, though they go on clinging. Hard to be uncertain, afraid and divided, hard to feel the depths attract and call, yet sit fast and merely tremble – hard to want to stay and want to fall. 


Then, when things are worst and nothing helps the tree's buds break as in rejoicing, then, when no fear holds back any longer, down in glitter go the twig's drops plunging, forget that they were frightened by the new, forget their fear before the flight unfurled – feel for a second their greatest safety, rest in that trust that creates the world.

I thought I would share one of my favorite poems today! It's called Yes, Of Course It Hurts by Karin Boye, a Swedish poet and novelist from the early 1900s. It's a beautiful and vivid portrayal of the fear that can hold us back from letting go or from taking a leap of faith - even when the end result will be something good or beautiful. The fear of the unknown can be #real. I love this reminder that though things may be hard and we may be fearful of what's to come, we may end up being be like the drops who forget their fear.

Also, here's a cool poster adaptation of this poem because isn't graphic design just the greatest? (Biased, I know).