Nothing great of lasting value was made in a day, or a week, or even a month. Greatness is earned with effort, dedication, and time.
Yesterday I walked to the Salamanca Market in Hobart, Tasmania, a street market that opens every Saturday. Much like everything else I’ve experienced here in Tasmania, the market had ‘calmly dramatic’ feel to it, filled with three hundred stalls and bustling with thousands of people, yet not feeling one bit chaotic or rushed.
There were lots of street musicians strewn about. There was a teenage girl on the flute, a young man singing to an acoustic guitar, an older gentleman attempting to play the ukulele, and another selling CDs.
After walking around a bit, I noticed the young man with the acoustic guitar had joined another young musician. The two men, who did not seem to know each other, started playing as one, carefully watching each other as they tried to find a rhythm.
A few of these musicians seemed comfortable performing, but there were many others who made it obvious they were struggling with stage-fright. I remember seeing a young man sitting on a bench through one of the stalls, set back away from the crowds as he quietly sang to himself and tapped on his guitar. I wondered what he was thinking.
At one end of the market there was a young girl, perhaps ten or eleven, holding a violin and glancing around nervously. She found the courage to start playing just I walked past her and several people turned as they heard the music, their faces going from curious to astonished when they saw her age.
Walking down Kennedy Lane, into Salamanca Square where families gathered to relax around a water fountain, there was a young boy band playing. One boy on the drums, one on the keyboard, and two more standing up with guitars. The lead singer wasn’t more than eight, his flushed red face and closed eyes telling me he didn’t want to see all the people stopping to smile at him. His singing was horribly off pitch, but his soul made that irrelevant.
Down the other end of Kennedy Lane, down the quiet narrow end with tall stone walls on either side blocking the already diffused sunlight, there was another musician standing in the shadows. I recognized him immediately from my walks around the city earlier in the week. But I had never seen his face. Or was it a girl? I couldn’t tell. He wore a expressionless white mask, baggy jeans, and a faded blue sweatshirt with the hood pulled over. The only thing more unsettling than his ghostly appearance was the tune that he added to the scene. Picking gently at a closely clutched guitar, he played with the sound of each string ever so carefully, clearly having more experience than a casual passerby would notice. Perhaps that’s why he wore an expressionless white mask.
I walked around the market a few more times, not really knowing where I was going or what I was looking for. Around the middle of the market, at the end of a closed street, there were two men playing music and generating a crowd. Not being much for crowds myself, I stepped off to the side, a bit behind the musicians. There I noticed several guys in black suits sitting on the ground, with bags of wires and instruments and other musical equipment sitting on the street around them. As they laughed and watched the crowd, I realized they were next in line, awaiting their turn in the spotlight.
It was here, facing in the same direction as the musicians, that I noticed a man in the crowd step up and throw some money into a guitar case. He smiled and stepped back into the crowd to continue watching. There was something about his posture that told me he was standing there simply to encourage others to step up and give. Not many did.
Every single one of the musicians I had walked by, from the young girl playing the violin, to the person picking at the guitar in a white mask, had a bucket or instrument case in front of them collecting donations. But I hadn’t given anything.
As I ate breakfast this morning, I reflected on all the musicians I walked by and I felt bad for not giving anything, especially not to the children. I realized that even if I had given money to every single one of the musicians, it wouldn’t have amounted to more than a few dollars.
But how much hope and validation might I have given in the process? What if my giving something meant that one of those children felt inspired to see their dreams through? How could any amount of money be valued higher than that possibility?
Perhaps the problem lies in my relationship to money. Perhaps deep down inside there is still a lot of insecurity and scarcity that I’m not recognizing, a part of me that is reluctant to give because I’ve spent so much of my life living in fear of not having enough.
I do have enough. In fact, I have more than enough.
Next week I’m going back to the Salamanca Market. I’m going to give something to every musician that I can find. In fact, maybe I should make this a permanent habit, to always give something to street musicians. Unlike beggars, they’re clearly offering something in return. Instead of just asking, they’re creating something and hoping that you’ll find value in it.
But more likely than not, they’re also asking for you to support their dream, to show them that it’s a dream worth working towards.
All dreams are worth working towards and I believe there is no better way to invest in others than to help them achieve those dreams. What’s your dream and how are you working towards it? Let me know and I will send you something. (Please include your PayPal email address.)
Urgency creates an attention poverty. It deprives us of the present moment and encourages us to make rash decisions, to act before thinking and to commit before considering.
Urgency disregards priorities and blatantly ignores what's important. It demands nothing short of immediate, unmindful action.
Things that are urgent are fleeting. They lose their value and their sense of importance with every passing moment and they feel important because they're fleeting.
We buy something because it's on sale or jump into a conversation so that we're heard; we stay on top of what's trending or keep up with our favorite shows, authors, or magazines; we stay with our job because it's a great opportunity or we indulge in the luxuries of life because, hey, life is short.
We chase these things because they're fleeting, because the unstoppable and relentless marching of time ensures that they will be gone, possibly forever, if we don't act now.
But what's important, what's truly important, remains important. It doesn't fade into the background when we ignore it. It doesn't disappear after a few days, weeks, or years.
It doesn't matter if we're rich or poor, if we're ten years old or a hundred years old, if it's Monday or Friday or if it's the weekend with a full moon: the important things remain important.
The important things are here to stay. They remain with us, patiently waiting until we're ready to sit quietly, bring our mind home, and give them the attention they deserve.
Urgency will never wait; you'll never catch it. Chasing what's urgent is a fools game. But embracing what's important, that's something that has meaning. That's something that has real value.
The urgent stuff will always be running away from us, but the important stuff -- the stuff that gives our life meaning -- is waiting patiently with open arms.
“Know your value,” everyone told me, “don’t undervalue yourself.” I was creating my first digital product and I began hesitating when it came time to choose a price. But the advice I received from friends led me to realize there was more to my hesitation: something was amiss with the status quo.
Using my perception of value to control the pricing process just felt wrong.
What good was 'knowing my value' if my audience perceived the value of my work differently? If I thought my work was worth X but you felt my work was worth Y, then how could I create an offer that made sense for the both of us?
'Knowing your value', I realized, is a broken method for pricing digital goods. The intangible nature of digital work makes it easy to impose prices based on the creators' perception of value, but that's an outdated system that ignores the Internet's potential to create global equality.
Rather than arbitrarily choosing a price, I put together a survey describing the offer that I was creating and asked everyone on my email list to share their opinion. Who better to ask about the value of my work than those who had given me permission to send it to them?
I included in the survey a range of subscription options (based on what I would personally pay) and then asked everyone to share what resonated with them. Here were the results:
Using these results, I then calculated an average price and used that to set the monthly subscription for my Journal, which I'm quietly launching with the publication of this essay.
Will this average price make sense for everyone? No, probably not -- the price will be too high for some, and too low for others. But will the price be fair? Yes.
In allowing your collective voice to set the price, I'm able to guarantee that your opinion overrides my own, even if that means using a higher price than I'm comfortable with (I was in fact going to use a lower price before I conducted the survey).
Asking permission before pricing my work gave you, my audience, a platform to participate in the pricing process and ensured that your opinion played an vital role in the valuation of my work.
What is Permission Pricing?
Permission pricing uses the privilege of an audience to understand what that audience would pay for our work. It recognizes that equality cannot be achieved through imposing our individual sense of value on others, and it uses the power of gift-giving to create a sustainable mechanism for increasing both awareness and perception of value.
There's a good chance you're already familiar with permission pricing: When you ask a friend how much he'll give you for something that you want to sell, you're employing permission pricing. You're offering your respect by understanding the other persons' perception of value and then doing business accordingly.
A similar concept you may be familiar with is that of permission marketing, which recognizes that treating people with respect and getting their permission before marketing to them is the best way to earn their trust and attention.
But if we build an audience with permission marketing and then turn around and sell to them without employing 'permission pricing', we're effectively communicating that we will do business, but only with those who agree with our perception of value.
That method of pricing degrades the trust we build through permission marketing. It's like asking for permission to speak with someone and then ignoring them when they give it to us.
Not everyone in our audience will want to buy from us and that's OK. Some people only come for our gifts and they will stay for our gifts as long as they remain genuine.
Using gift-giving, we can increase the perceived value of our work while also increasing the awareness around it. This method isn't as lucrative as imposing our own prices, but it is a method based on equality and it ensures a truer valuation of our work.
Using Gift-Giving to Increase Awareness and Perception of Value
Gift-giving is the act of offering something of real value without strings attached. The more true gifts we give away, the greater the number of people we will attract who will appreciate the value of our work.
When we attract people who appreciate the value of our work, they will talk to others about the gifts we're giving and upon receiving those gifts, they will want to give something back. This simultaneously increases the awareness around our work and adds to our perceived value.
There's one reason this works: Everyone who receives a true gift wants to give something back.
But the key here is to give away true gifts. What's a 'true gift'? True gifts are just as valuable -- if not more valuable -- than the products we sell.
An easy way to tell if we're giving away true gifts is to consider our free work. Could we sell it? If not, then there's a good chance it's not a true gift. It's probably wrapping paper, a cheap attention-getter that serves no purpose but to increase the statistical probability that we'll make a sale or attract more traffic.
If the gifts we're giving are nothing more than wrapping paper, our audience will eventually notice and we'll lose their trust. We want to be giving away true gifts, not bogus gifts. True gifts get people talking to other people about the quality and remarkableness of our work and they add to the perception of our value.
The Industrial Death of Permission Pricing
The concept of permission pricing certainly isn't new. In fact, it was once far more common than it is today. Its unfortunate absence in business can be attributed to the factory-based methods of the industrial revolution and the culture that has emerged from it.
As products became cheaper to manufacture and the cost of production dropped dramatically, the need to involve customers in the business process dried up. Instead of using human relationships to create a shared understanding of value, businesses began imposing and adjusting prices based entirely on earnings.
Products were now made in factories -- not entirely by humans -- and the human element quickly disappeared from business. Everything became about the numbers. Doing business wasn't about providing quality and value or developing relationships with people. It was about production and sales and making money.
If sales were low, business owners dropped prices (or ran a 'sale') to increase the numbers. If sale-volumes were high, they produced a new product (or simply renamed an existing one) to keep people interested while they experimented with raising prices until sales slowed again.
With the digital revolution, it became easier than ever for this culture to change. With digital products that could self-replicate and technology that allowed for connecting directly with customers, businesses had an opportunity to create and price products based on the shared collective.
Unfortunately the old methods of doing business were too entrenched. Now customers were literally just a number on the screen, a traffic statistic or a conversion rate in a report.
If nobody was buying a digital product at whatever price was set, all they needed was more traffic; all they needed was more numbers. Even if the product had almost no value, the human element of curiosity combined with the unfortunate ignorance that accompanies any big transition, statistically guaranteed that sales would eventually come.
But all hope wasn't lost.
A Digital Rebirth of Human-based Transactions
There were a few business leaders who recognized the importance of customer involvement and used the Internet to create popular companies: eBay created a platform that allowed people to voice their opinion by placing a bid on products. Amazon employed mechanisms that allowed people to share their opinion through product reviews.
CraigsList circumvented the equalizing nature of the Internet by creating a platform that allowed buyers and sellers to connect offline, thereby using their geographic location to build trust and a create sense of equality.
In a world where the human element of business had been corrupted with greed, deception, and a relentless desire to make more money, these businesses made people feel human again. They gave people a voice and generated a sense of equality, empowering people and giving them respect.
The true potential of the Internet lies in its ability to create equality and facilitate human-based transactions. Thankfully, we're already beginning to see a shift in business towards utilizing this potential, despite its absence in the prevailing culture.
Market trends like nichification refocus businesses on people. Instead of pumping out products and hoping that someone buys them, businesses are now learning to understand what their audience wants and then delivering value directly to them.
The opportunity to capitalize on the humanizing nature of the Internet is huge and the people at the forefront of this movement are the individuals who seek to involve their audiences in the decision-making process. They are the ones who continue to experiment and push the edges of what it means to do business.
This is Our Digital Revolution
To step towards a sustainable future, our archaic methods of doing business need to evolve. We need to recognize the significance of this digital revolution -- our revolution -- and work towards creating a culture of equality where the work we do matters.
"It's hard when your mother-in-law doesn't buy into what you're doing and it's hard when the economy is going through a transition, to understand this - but this is our revolution.
This is the industrial revolution of our time; we are living through the death of the factory, and it is being replaced by something else. And the people who are on the cutting edge of that are the people who are inventing the next thing and talking about it with clarity.
So when this revolution slows down, we're going to look back and we're going to say, 'so, what did you do?'. And I guess what I would say to the listener is, 'do something that matters'.
This is too important for you to do some little scam, or some little affiliate deal, or some little way to make money tomorrow.
This is the time to do work that matters, to do something bigger than you think you're capable of, and do it in a way that makes a difference." - Seth Godin
The way we choose to do business today will influence the way business is done for generations to come. We need to embrace the fact that we're now living and working in a global society. When it comes to things like pricing our work, we need to recognize that it's no longer just about us, it's about our readers and our customers.
When we price our digital work, we don't need to impose our perception of value and expect other people to agree; there are better ways of approaching pricing. Ask your audience what they will pay. Ask them for their opinion and seek to understand their perspective. Converse. Listen. Ask permission.
Do you add valueless content to the digital world? How much of what you say or write is only valuable to yourself? How much of it consists of you complaining or bragging about what you've done (or even worse, what you're currently doing)?
I know I'm guilty of it: Sometimes when I’m alone and my mind is idle, posting something, anything, to Twitter and knowing that someone somewhere will read it gives me a sense of connection. But that's being selfish. How much does spewing useless information into the world actually help me (or anyone)? It makes me “feel” a little better in the moment, but does it really do anything for anyone long-term?
The Internet makes it easy for us to keep sharing useless stuff that we think is important because we don't see anyone’s reaction to what we're offering. If you stood on the sidewalk and asked strangers to listen to how your day went, how many people would care? With the in-your-face feedback that you’d receive on the sidewalk, how long would it take you to realize that what you're offering is valueless and adds nothing useful to the lives of others?
On the Internet, you don’t see when someone grumbles at that self-centered, narcissistic paragraph of text you’ve written; you don’t see all the eyeballs that pass over and dismiss your carefully crafted jumble of words.
Being in a constant mode of providing value requires changing your mindset. Yesterday, for example, I went for a walk to clear my head. Towards the end of the walk, I decided to post something on Twitter to share the refreshing experience. At first, I wrote:
"Just finished a nice walk outside in the cold. It really cleared my head.”
Then I realized I could provide more value to others by rephrasing the message:
“Got a lot on your mind? Try taking a walk outside when it’s cold and focus on nothing but your breathing and the movement of your legs.”
Now which of those two posts would you rather read? Which provides more value to world?
Be someone who creates value, not noise. If you find something of value, rebroadcast it (but don't become a repeater just rebroadcasting someone else's voice; create your own voice). If you feel you rarely have anything of value to share, try changing your perspective. If you still have nothing, don't share information simply for the sake of sharing. Sharing is good, but sharing something that only adds to the noise is not good.
Before you publish something you’ve written for Twitter, Facebook, or a blog post, ask yourself if what you're writing would be of value to anyone. If not, don't pollute the digital world by adding to the noise.
Be someone who provides value:
- Ask yourself how your observations, activities, and experiences could be useful to others.
- Rephrase valuelessness to provide value through making suggestions or offering advice.
- Try seeing things through someone else's perspective; would a stranger be interested?
- Only create or share when you think it will provide value; don't create or share for the sake of creating or sharing.
- Rebroadcast value, but don't become a rebroadcaster; build your own voice through personal observations.
- Change your mindset to reflect someone who provides value.
It’s amazing how easily valuelessness can become valuable by simply changing the perspective and intention.