Growing up a lefty in a right-handed world.

The first laugh comedian Jerry Seinfeld ever got was for a bit about being left-landed and how society views everything “left” negatively.

“Two Left feet.”
“Left-handed compliment.”
”What are we having for dinner? Leftovers.”
“You go to a party where there is nobody there. “Where did everybody go?” “They left!”

Like most of Seinfeld’s jokes, the bit landed because the story hit close to home.

If you’re part of the 90% of the world’s population who was born right-handed, you didn’t even notice that desk in grammar school that forced us lefties to contort our bodies into pretzels, leaving our hands an ink-filled mess as they dragged across the page.

But if you look around, you will notice: the world is designed for righties.

Right-handed scissors. Can openers. Credit card swipers. Zippers. Ice cream scoopers.

All designed for the right.

Until the late 50s, when my Dad (another fellow lefty) was growing up, it was standard for the Roman Catholic nuns teaching elementary school to change a child’s instinct and proclivity to write with their left hand. Children naturally left-handed were encouraged to use their right hand. Some teachers would go so far as to tie a student’s left hand behind their back to avoid being used.

Even the word left has negative connotations.

• The Latin word “sinistra” means “left,” but somewhere along the way took on meanings of “evil” or “unlucky”. So, if you were left-handed, you were associated with evil.

• China claims that less than one percent of students are left-handed. But if that were true, it would be strange: the global average of lefties comes in at 10%?

• The German word “linkisch” means awkward. The Russian word “levja” is associated with being untrustworthy. If your wife was left-handed in Japan, it could be cited as grounds for divorce.

Now it makes sense how this all happened, right?

Given the word for the direction “right” also means “correct” or “proper”, we lefties had nowhere to go but down.

If you ask my Dad’s teachers, they deny the lefties are evil claim. Although, I imagine they would admit the prejudice against the awkwardness of left-handed writing and the prevalence of “right-handed” tools in the world.

Thankfully, perceptions about lefties have improved.

It’s a good reminder, though, that there will be people who try to fit you into a neat box.

But being different is a gift you are born with — don’t misuse it by trying to fit in.

My greatest teacher.

Teachers don't always look like teachers. They disguise themselves as difficult neighbors, drivers in cars that cut you off at the intersection, and babies screaming on planes. 

The Dalai Lama said, "In the practice of tolerance, one’s enemy is the best teacher."

I didn't view my new puppy Primo as my enemy, but I was convinced he didn’t like me very much. At least for the first three months we were together. 

The best-kept secret about dogs is that they can solve a lot of your problems if you let them. Even the ones you don’t know you have. Dogs act like mirrors that we hold up to decode every emotion, reaction, or thought we have. They bring out our best selves or worst selves if we let them. 

If you want to continue growing and evolving, you need an opponent, an antagonist, or even a puppy. You need someone who will truly test your abilities and sincerity beyond the constraints of your mind. 

In honor of my dog’s second birthday, I want to share what Primo has taught me about myself, life, and my emotional blind spots. 

Let things unfold 

Why won't he let me brush his damn teeth?

Dogs are not born knowing how to live in our homes, how to walk on a leash, or where to go to the bathroom. We need to teach them how to do all of these things. And this takes time. Potty training, leash walking, crate training, teeth brushing. How fast they progress is not on our timeline. It’s on theirs. And if you go too fast and push things, they will rebel. 

I didn't realize that it would take months for my dog to learn to walk on a leash. And that it takes the reinforcement of the right behaviors before walking nicely on a leash becomes a habit for them. But so often, we follow that pulling puppy – like Santa on his sled leaving his workshop to deliver presents – because that’s far easier than stopping every minute on that 10-foot walk to reinforce a better behavior. 

We can not allow this, though! Primo is not a sled dog training for the Christmas Olympics; he is a dog that gets a haircut and blow-out every six weeks, with a complimentary blueberry facial. 

Brushing teeth is another one. We can’t expect to brush our puppies’ full mouth of teeth the first day we try. We’re going to need to brush one tooth each day, one at a time, and perhaps we need to give them a treat in between before moving on to the next. 

Holy shit, one tooth at a time?

At that rate, it will be Christmas by the time we will have finished their full mouth. And then we have to start all over again. 

How fast our puppies learn is not on our timeline; it’s on theirs. The process of learning a behavior is not linear for puppies or humans. And if we feel like we’re forcing them, we’re probably doing it the wrong way. 

Are there things in your life that you are forcing to happen before their time? 

Learn what drives you

The proper motivator can change everything.  

Food, toys, quality time with you, touch. These are things dogs value. But it’s your job to figure out which one motivates your dog to do his best work. Once you understand that, you can get your dog to do anything. You’ll see that your dog’s motivation might be different based upon the reward you use. Let’s say you give them their kibble – they may be less motivated to learn a trick you want to teach them versus giving them a piece of freeze-dried liver, which they will go crazy over. It’s essential to question whether it’s a reinforcement issue and not a technical problem with your dog. Maybe they need stronger reinforcement to motivate them to do it. 

When Tim Ferriss interviewed master dog trainer Susan Garrett he shared struggling to get his dog Molly to replicate a trick they had worked on at home. Susan said, “You mentioned tipping with $20 bills, Tim, but maybe in this situation you had to tip in $100s.”

We, humans, are the same. It’s tough to keep going without a “treat” or right-sized celebration to reinforce that we are headed in the right direction. 

Do you know what drives you and how to use that to accomplish your goals?

Design your environment 

Your puppy can't steal what they can't get to.

Like humans, puppies can’t be tempted by something that’s not there. The two critical components of positive dog training are positive reinforcement, focusing on what we want from our dog instead of what we don't want—and managing our puppy’s environment to anticipate anything that might cause them to slip up. Dogs can't steal something they can't get to. 

If we leave our shoes out and they eat one of them, that's our fault, not theirs. 

My dog never chews anything of mine – anymore. And that is not because my puppy is any better than yours. All puppies are equally as mischievous. It’s because I don't leave stuff out for him to get to. 

Avoiding dangerous or harmful situations is not the answer long-term for puppies or humans; life doesn’t work that way. But when you are trying to create a new behavior, controlling the environment to support that behavior is sometimes the best thing we can do. 

When was the last time you were successful while surrounded by constant temptations? 

Emotional Blindspots 

Challenging situations and people come into our lives to remind us that we still have some growing to do. They reveal our emotional blind spots. 

Over the past two years, I've learned a lot about dogs. But mostly about myself and how new things will come into my life that will test me in new ways. And that I should thank them for their efforts when they appear. 

Primo reminded me that my greatest teacher all along was me. And those situations that challenge me can sometimes reap the most significant rewards. Shielding myself from the tough stuff is not the answer. 

I am convinced dogs were created to help us learn and grow and to confront those emotions that we haven't felt completely because we’re afraid of where they might take us.

Thank you, Primo, and Happy birthday!

Sometimes it’s better not to know any better.

They say the "ignorant fool" can often be a better entrepreneur than the "know it all" genius, and I believe that 100%. 

That was me. 

I often didn't know much about the industry or a topic when I started something, but that didn't stop me from going all in. 

As I get older, I find it is more of a challenge to create something innovative.

I work hard not to let my "experience" stand in the way.

Wisdom is a double-edged sword. 

We often bring so many perceived notions with us about what is so-called right or wrong, the risks, all the ways something might fail, what could go wrong. 

When you have some experience it’s easy to let your mind anticipate what’s next based upon what’s happened prior (naturally zooming ahead, playing out any number of scenarios in business, in life) 

That's what I love about the mind of a child. 

They don't spend time figuring out what could go wrong; they start, which is how amazing (new) things happen.

I think this is why outsiders, people with no experience in a field, often create new things in older industries with many experienced folks. 

Outsiders don't focus on why it won't work; they start fresh and are inspired by what people want.

You'd think that the people most deeply involved in an industry would be in the best position to change things since they understand the problems, the roadblocks, and the intricacies of what's broken. 

But that's often not true, and therefore it's always counter-intuitive to discover that most people who end up dismantling the status quo do so by bringing a child's eye to the problem.

Blockbuster didn't start Netflix. Hilton didn't start Airbnb.

Outsiders question the most basic assumptions and ways of working.

In other words, their outsider status is a blessing, not a curse.

Or, to put it another way, my younger self was on to something — sometimes it's better not to know any better.

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The freedom of having more with less.

“Nothing is enough for the man to whom enough is too little.”

– Epicurus

When I hear the word abundance, the first thing that comes to mind is feeling comforted, at home, and loved. 

As I grew older and more fortunate, I fell in love with the comforts that convenience, choice, and quality brought to my life and others. When a friend comes to stay with me, I like to have several special bottles of wine around, a fridge full of cheeses from the inexpensive to fancy, and their bed made up of the most comfortable blanket and pillows I can find. 

Suppose you have been to my parent's home for dinner. In that case, you will understand that I was born into an environment that encouraged this form of behavior. From my mother's appetizer spread to her guest bathroom filled with a mountain of fresh towels to my father's desire never to see the bottom of his guests' glass (iykyk). 

There is no denying that this way of being runs in my Italian-American family. Think Thanksgiving, the one day of the year with an obscenely large feast and bickering: but this is every Sunday for most Italian-Americans. While these things can easily be seen as overindulgences to most people, they never felt that way to us. They always felt good.  

Why would you want less when you could have all of this beautiful stuff?

But like many people today, I had become so conditioned to expect excess and ease in all aspects of my life that I lost the ability to recognize what was enough. Or when the conveniences were standing in the way of learning something new.

Our culture's irrational fears of shortage, an excessive amount of choice, and mechanisms designed to make buying fast and convenient discourage thoughtful consideration of what—or how much—we need. 

Our homes reveal our excessive behaviors: our fridges contain week-old leftovers, our closets are full of clothes we never wear. When wasted or dormant, an embarrassment of riches can erode our bank accounts and our health and happiness. Add these things to my "abbondanza" mindset (Italian for “abundance”), and we have a recipe for disaster for my mind and my wallet.  

Less stuff, less convenience, had always been equated with sacrificing for me though. And a blow to my "abbondanza" mindset that more was better, more was beautiful. 

But I was lazy. More is easy. Enough is hard. It takes thoughtfulness. 

The drawbacks of always wanting more didn't fully reveal themselves until my brother, and his wife started having kids. The excess becomes apparent when you're dealing with the young mind of a child.

Figuring out what is enough is not easy, especially if you are like me and have a propensity for abundance. What is enough taps into a myriad of active and latent attitudes we have around consumption — from the pragmatic and resourceful, to environmentally-conscious, to value-driven, to minimalist to just straight up feeling guilty that we have too much or are using too much. 

My journey to finding enough was selfish. It was less about my worry for the planet and more about worry for my mind. Like my grandmother, who saved paper bags and hung her wash on a clothesline: not because she was thinking about her carbon footprint but because resourcefulness was inherent to the times and deeply rooted in her culture.

For years, I flew with huge carry-on bags packed to capacity. No matter how large the bag was, I managed to find plenty of things with which to fill it. My journey to and through airports was always exhausting. I accepted that as the way it was going to be until I switched up my luggage with a small, hard side shell spinner suitcase.

Behavior change is hard. That's why I think starting with the suitcase worked for me. When we're free from the autopilot of our daily lives and natural habitats, we're more likely to be receptive to changes and new experiences. 

My travel life changed dramatically by just this small constraint.  

It was one of the many times I had an obvious but life-changing moment —one in which I felt the freedom of having more with less.

Rick Rubin won't give you answers, but he will show you the way.

"You're so goddamn free," the rapper Tyler, the Creator says to Rick Rubin in the opening scene of the 2019 Showtime documentary Shangri-La. This is high praise coming from an artist who has such an unapologetic approach to creation.

What Rubin has accomplished as a music producer from his early days at Def Jam to collaborating with the greatest artists of all time, Run-DMC, Kanye West, Adele, The Red Hot Chili Peppers, Johnny Cash, Lana Del Rey, Ed Sheeran—is hard to believe. It's easier to think of artists that Rick hasn't worked with. 

When it comes to the work, though, it's never about Rubin. 

In his later thinking, the American psychologist Abraham Maslow argued that there is a higher level of development than self-actualization—something he calls self-transcendence. 

According to Maslow, self-transcendence brings the individual to what he termed "peak experiences" in which they transcend their own personal concerns and see from a higher perspective. When I watch Rubin work with artists, he has clearly achieved this higher state of emotional and spiritual consciousness that Maslow describes. 

He's become a beautiful vessel things can easily flow through— a mirror that artists can see their true selves in when they're with him. People ask better questions when they are around him. They can be vulnerable and work fearlessly. They listen more. They are better versions of themselves.

As Natalie Maynard of the Dixie Chicks put it, Rubin "has the ability and the patience to let the music be discovered, not manufactured."

It's not a coincidence that Rubin is so successful. A tremendous amount of practice goes on behind the scenes. Reaching an effortless state of being requires a hell of a lot of effort.

He's been meditating for 44 years.

After complaining of a sore neck at 14 years old, his doctor recommended he learn how to meditate. He tried Transcendental Meditation, and he's been a life-long student of the practice. 

Rubin knows that if you want to change the world, you have to start with yourself. It's no surprise that his collaborative magic involves the heart more than the head. He knows that being in tune with his feelings creates the space for beautiful things to happen. 

David Lynch, a fellow TMer, puts it so well when he states, "most of us go through our lives wearing a suffocating rubber clown suit of negativity. Log enough meditation, and that suit will dissolve." 

I believe that his meditation practice is directly responsible for one of his superpowers—removing any focus on the expectations of the external world so that he and his artists can do their best work.

He pays attention. 

Rubin admits his approach to profoundly understanding people is not just reserved for artists. He believes that if you are open and pay attention to people, they will tell you what they need. 

But this state of openness required a conscious deconstruction of his ego. And he supports artists in doing the same. He helps them see what they already have inside of them so they can pay attention. 

He's open to exploring.

Rick has no interest in making people follow some strict way of working. He wants them to be more fully authentic in service of the work. There is no defined "Rick Rubin Way". Rubin talks about never judging an idea based on the description of the idea. Because the distance between what you think it is and what is going on in someone's head can sometimes be far apart. His approach is try them all and let the work speak for itself.

He says, "I never decide if an idea is good or bad until I try it. So much of what gets in the way of things being good is thinking that we know. And the more that we can remove any baggage we're carrying with us, and just be in the moment, use our ears, and pay attention to what's happening, and just listen to the inner voice that directs us, the better." 

He values his environment. 

Rubin knows the proper environment is critical to creating great work. I can't help but feel a deep sense of peace when I see white walls, clean lines, and starkness in his famous music studio, Shangri-La. The studio's Director of Operations, Eric Lynn tells Architectural Digest: "One of the things that Shangri-La does well with its minimalist design is taking away the distractions of clutter— there's not a television, there's not a clock telling you what time it is. It's like a blank canvas." 

Nietzsche wrote, "For if we think of genius as something magical, we are not obliged to compare ourselves and find ourselves lacking." 

Most cling to the belief that masters like Rubin are born, not made. I think that's our ego talking. 

It’s clear to me that Rubin has put in a lot of work to pull this off. I can’t help but wonder what is possible if we did the same.

Rick Rubin doesn't want you to be reading this essay about him. But I am glad you did. 

Limits are an illusion.

I heard someone say that startups don’t fail because they run out of money but rather because they run out of heart. 

That thought reminded me of all those moments when we were in the early days of building Doorsteps, and it felt like I had entirely run out of mental and emotional steam. But somehow, I always managed to reach for some more.

Just as with physical exercise, I think our brains lie to us about what we’re capable of, telling us our power is tapped when there’s plenty of energy in reserve.

We see this when our willpower starts running out too. We begin to default to the easiest option to avoid expending any more energy. Our brains get tired and begin to seek the path of least resistance.

I read somewhere once that “willpower is a finite resource that is depleted each time you exercise your self-control”. I guess this makes sense why, to maintain the longer term, we sometimes need to be kind to ourselves and give in to our desires.

The other day, I had felt sure I was mentally spent, but then I found deeper reserves of strength left to tap by connecting my work back to my longer-term goals. My mind had lied to me. Again. But this time, I was ready.

What else, I wondered, might my mind be lying about?

I think for all of us, it is a great deal.

We all have deep pockets of strength that we may never even know exist, as they are closely guarded by a brain that would instead maintain the status quo, then take you to the next level. 

But don’t be fooled by this; you are stronger than you think.

New York, NY.

New York City isn’t just a city; it’s an idea—a projection of our fantasies and desires. 

NYC can squeeze a lifetime into a year.

It is the greatest in the world and has taught me some of the most important, valuable, and beautiful things this world has to offer. 

NYC taught me that your environment can and will shape who you are and how you approach just about everything.

NYC has a reputation for many things — and being one of the toughest cities in the world is one of them. But like searching for your great love, if it was easy, everyone would do it. 

NYC is the one place you don’t ever have to grow up. 

The people who live here operate on the pleasure principle. They do what feels good and are wary of having to deal with any sort of compromise.

Well, that’s because, in NYC, you just don’t have to. 

NYC has no ceiling.

NYC has taught me that no matter what, there is always a way.

New Yorkers are feelings junkies. When we walk out of our door in the morning, we want our brains to be assaulted by inspiration. 

Burning the candle at both ends still fills us with an intoxicating combo of joy and dread. 

We are like a strange mix of resilience and ultimate fragility.

We are the type of people whose anxieties propel us forward. 

Anxiety is what forced us to move here; anxiety is what landed us our first great job. 

We’re always moving closer and closer to where we want to be, even if it doesn’t always feel that way.

We are the most sensitive assholes you will ever meet. 

I love New York and am sad to leave, but I am so grateful for what it gave me. 

I ❤️NY. 

“Is this a good business idea?”

I look down at my phone, and I see there’s a text from Maria. Before I open it, I can anticipate what it says. "Hey Michele, I have a new business idea that I’d love to bounce off of you. Can we schedule some time to chat?"

I get this question often. And rightfully so. I’ve started a lot of businesses, and I’ve had a lot of ideas. Some worked, most didn't. I'm the person people go to when they have something they are excited about. 

I want to help people. Still, I also want to say, "Maria, it doesn’t matter what I think of the idea, it matters what the world thinks, and if the world thinks your idea is good, if customers buy it, then you have a winner! Now go out and prototype the damn thing and stop sending texts to ME!" I don't end up texting these exact words, but something to that effect. 

I'm Maria. I know what it feels like to be in that period of an early idea. You are vulnerable, and you want people to agree that you’ve stumbled on something extraordinary. You want to feel good. You don’t want to be challenged. Ideas are an extension of who we are, and most of the time, they are good at helping us figure out what we want to see in the world. So when we put an idea out there, we are putting ourselves out there. 

Sara Blakely, the founder of Spanx, talks a lot about how ideas, even million-dollar ones, are most vulnerable in their infancy, so don’t share them with too many people. This advice is counter to the Silicon Valley point of view: to share your idea with everyone so you can refine it because it’s not about the idea; it’s all about the execution. 

I agree with Sara Blakely that you shouldn’t go around asking those that would never be your customer about your idea, but the way to handle fragile items is not to lock them in a cabinet; it’s to handle them with care. The only way to test if you have a good idea is to see if people want it. If they need it.

I know why people don't like my response to this question. Ideas are nice and cozy in our minds. We resist putting them out there for people to evaluate because there is a chance that the beautiful, perfect scenario that we’ve conjured up will be shattered when we have some new inputs. Ideas are perfect inside our minds because they are safe from judgment.

But here’s the fantastic thing: your ideas get better once you start building them and sharing them with the world. Yes, it’s scary at first, but it’s the only way to see if your idea is worth pursuing. If you believe in your idea, you do yourself a disservice by ignoring your nagging inner voice and keeping it to yourself. 

Elizabeth Gilbert says that “ideas spend eternity swirling around us, searching for available and willing human partners and that when an idea thinks it has found somebody – say, you – who might be able to bring it into the world, the idea will pay you a visit.”

I will use this to form another question that I might ask Maria about her business idea. 

“Maria, was that idea meant for you? Is it yours?”