Ever hear the Hindu story about the tree that grants wishes? It’s a good one.

An uncle tells a group of kids that a banyan tree will grant any wish that they desire. They rush outside to the tree and excitedly make their wishes. But unexpectedly they find that the tree also gives a wish’s opposite. With candy comes stomachaches. With toys, boredom.

Hopelessly focused on end results – fruits of actions – the kids try to solve their dilemma by asking for bigger toys and sweeter candy. The opposite continues to follow: more boredom and stronger stomachaches.

As the kids get older they ask for wealth, power, money, fame. They get these things along with greed, insomnia, paranoia, anxiety. Some are convinced they aren’t wishing smart enough and keep trying. Some become frustrated and wish for death to end it all, only to be granted the opposite: rebirth, under the same tree, with the same level of awareness.

To some, this story is just an athletic way to say “be careful what you wish for” (who knows? maybe it’s the fountainhead for that saying). But I think it’s more sophisticated than that. For me, it’s a reminder that turning lemons to lemonade is a process. It rarely (if ever) has a well-defined end.

Long before creating our dual-independent life, my wife and I made many choices that set us up to live the life we strive for today. (My wife is the driver of this, by the way. Without her I’d live in a van down by the river. Forever adjusting my pants, barking about what you need to do to make a meaningful life.)

But without a doubt the most important part of our process is dedicating ourselves, everyday, to avoid the temptation of focusing on some kind of end result. We’re simply happiest when we aren’t focused on the fruits at all.

Not that there aren’t pragmatic, rational things that you need to deal with. There are. Savings, cost-cutting, spending discipline, life insurance. But they make the process possible. It’s the picking of lemons when you don’t feel like it. Getting up everyday to mix it. Sticking to the pure sugar when the bad stuff is more convenient.

I bring this up because for all the talk of changing the world by focusing on the passion you have within you, it’s all too tempting to focus on some kind of endless search for a result. If you work toward a rigid idea of a big payoff, the payoff will inevitably come in a different form than what you had in mind. You’ll be disappointed, and the cycle carries on. And on. And on.

The self-guided professionals I admire get up every day to pursue something in line with their own conscious, ignoring the pull from the fruits to the best of their ability. Lives that are simply led. Giving not back, but along the way instead.

Every now and then – especially when you’re starting – temptations arise that pull you away from a productive focus. Like when you see someone in your industry bullshitting and getting paid for it. How does that idiot make money and I’m scraping this month? How does that blowhard get the speaking gig and I’m stuck on the sidelines?

It’s a toxic focus on an end result – money, fame, position of authority. Recognizing that it’s all a process, my wife and I often help each other pull back from the temptation to judge, be jealous, and draw connections to what we’re doing wrong. If you decide to follow your passion and go it alone, you’ve got to — got to — find someone to help you expel that toxin from your system and bring you back to your idea of success. I’m not much of a sharey-emotionally kind of guy to be giving this advice (just ask my wife), but I don’t think you can do this part alone. I know I couldn’t.

Here’s another temptation that can derail you from focusing on the right things: Jealous people who try to strip you of your power. Anyone who’s gone it alone has experienced this. If you decide to unplug from the matrix, I’m warning you now that there will be people who will find a reason — and unhesitatingly tell you about it — why it is that you’re able to unplug and they can’t.

You have a spouse. You don’t have a spouse. Your spouse works. Your spouse doesn’t work. Your kids are young. Your kids are old. You got a severance. You didn’t get a severance.

Someone I considered a friend actually told me – out loud – that I was lucky to have a Sugar Momma. Crazy. I went from disbelief, to pissed, to confused. The guy clearly chose to forget what kind of professional my wife has chosen to be. Or what our life together actually is. (Or what it means to be a supportive friend for that matter.)

Support for a solo endeavor is a sophisticated thing. It flows in and out of relationships. Your partner might provide more support in one form or another at a particular point in time, but you’re sacrificing in other ways. (If you aren’t, you better. Fast.)

My wife and I sacrifice for a pretty simple notion of success. We went to the zoo together on a Tuesday once. Once we worked remotely together at my in-laws house for a day, and spent the night. And now that we’ve put skiing back in our life after cutting it as an unnecessary expense during cash-strapped startup time, we figured out that of all our ski days this year exactly zero were on a weekend. We followed the snow, not the prescribed days of the week.

Skiing provides another metaphor of our life together. My wife skis well. Really well. She has a passion for it, developed after years of coming to Colorado on vacation when she was a kid in the Midwest. When it came time to find a home after law school, she uprooted with little network support, took the Colorado bar, and set out to make a life for herself in an environment that provided her so many meaningful relationships. And also so she could ski.

She truly followed her heart. When I go skiing with her, I feel like I’m along for the ride. I almost get more joy from watching her do her thing during our days together on the slopes than I do from skiing itself.

This focus on the path and not the destination? Avoiding the wishing tree? It’s a bump run for me. It doesn’t come naturally. I try, and keep trying. And I experience moments of relative success here and there. But I probably would never have been aware of the run, how to get there, or how to prepare before hitting it if it wasn’t for my wife. She keeps me going in the proper direction.

There’s a Sugar Mamma for ya’. More like a Champagne Powder Mama.

Focusing on the money part of the equation also ignores the other, often more difficult and draining aspects of support that the people in your life will give you. Whatever kind financial support my wife has given me, sharing a paycheck will never test her resolve to the degree that my behavior and emotional bullshit does.

The courage to follow our passion and avoiding the temptation of the wishing tree comes in the form of discarding the Jones’s idea of success and never letting anyone strip us of the strength it took to do it in the first place.

And the more I learn to accept the gift that is my wife, the happier we both are.

It’s a process. Every moment of every day. Sometimes I go to the tree and wish for things. It’s inevitable. When I’m strong enough to seek support, I pull back and focus on what’s in front of me.

Because that’s all there ever is: What’s in front of us. There is no end. The means are all.

The banyan tree story ends with a kid who was disabled and couldn’t go outside to the wishing tree with his friends. He observed their behavior from afar. Pained to watch his friends in their doomed loop, he said that if he were under the tree he would wish that his friends would see the errors of their ways. That they’d understand that fruits of end-results only cause more pain and lead nowhere.

He gained Moksha from this, of course, and became one with the universe. An end result that can only be gained by not focusing on it at all.

____________

Aaron Templer (AT) mashes up leadership with strategy, branding and integrated marketing for clients in search of the why. aarontempler.com

There’s a fantastic community of people out there who get off on helping others overcome their bullshit excuses for complacency. One of the best is Hugh MacLeod, the always genius and often surly cartoonist, author, and blogger behind GapingVoid.

Like me, Hugh once worked in advertising. Unlike me, he’s figured out how to fully commit to his art, no longer straddling between the two worlds.

I woke up yesterday to this message on Twitter. Turns out, Hugh created the above Cube Grenade in my honor. (For the definition of a “Cube Grenade,” click here.) He often does these for private commission, so to say I’m flattered is an understatement.

But the truth is, he’s always giving away his art. He’s one of the few entrepreneurs who fully embrace that you get by giving. And not just philosophically, but in real, financial terms. By giving freely of his work, he’s established his brand. People know him now. And he gets hired to do more of it.

I have much to learn from him.

It was a tough decision to write this post.

I’m someone who believes that when you think and act positively and with hope, those things come back to you. Likewise, the converse is true. We all know people with a cloud of doom over their heads. They expect their lives to suck so their lives suck so they expect their lives to suck so their lives suck so they expect their lives to suck…etc.

I choose to be the opposite of that. I try to write about good stuff. People who have succeeded. Stories of adversity overcome. I don’t want to invite defeat into my life, nor into yours. So when things get rocky for me personally, I see no need to report on it. Unless if, by doing so, it helps you in some way.

This is one of those times.

As you know, I’ve spent the past year encouraging people to get off their asses and take risks. This blog, “Lemonade,” talks I’ve given, the book I’m writing…they are all in an effort to both preach the values I believe and be a living example of them. But my biggest fear is that I will be the cobbler with shoeless kids. That at the end of the day, it will all be a bunch of smoke.

So here is an honest breakdown of both the hopes and challenges I face. Not because I believe in what I’m doing with less conviction. But to reinforce how important that conviction is, especially in difficult and trying times.

The Challenges:

1. Seeing more than two feet in front of me: Every month is a fire drill. Will we have the mortgage? Can we afford health insurance? How are we paying for my son’s karate lessons? We’re even applying for Obama’s federal mortgage restructuring program in the hopes that we’ll be able to keep our home.
2. Debt: Every time I travel to do a screening, my expenses are reimbursed. But by the time I see those checks, new expenses crop up. And interest accrues. It’s a frustrating game of catch up that I haven’t experienced since I was in my 20s.
3. Family stress: My daughter is a four year old social extrovert who needs other children to play with. Problem is, extended preschool costs $5k/year, which we can’t afford. So my wife plays countless games of “I Can Do That!” and Chutes & Ladders. Every. Single. Day. That’s not healthy for anybody.
4. Personal stress: Think I like denying my kids the preschool they need? Think it’s easy for me chastise Wall St. for taking bailout money on one side of my mouth and then apply for it on the other? Think I like hearing my wife tell me she’s afraid to open the bank statements? I lose sleep over these things every night.

Why It’s Worth It:

1. “Lemonade” and PFTA are making a profound difference in people’s lives: Emails like this, comments like this, and tweets like this make me feel like the message isn’t falling on deaf ears.
2. The Carrots Are Getting Closer: I have a literary agent from ICM who believes in the book. We’ve been going back and forth on the proposal for months and are getting really close to unleashing it on publishers.
3. We’re close to having “Lemonade” air on TV, potentially exposing it to tens of millions of households around the world
4. We cancelled our cable television, home telephone, and YMCA memberships. This is under “Worth It” because they are un-necessities we should have gotten rid of a long time ago.
5. There is gaining momentum for “Lemonade, Detroit”: The talent working on it is ridiculous. The city is opening its arms to a film that wants to uncover the good instead of sensationalizing the bad. Two of my favorite ad agencies in the world have contacted me about doing the advertising, marketing and promotions for it. And I am in discussions with a couple of different brands to underwrite the whole project.

So that brings me to you. As I said, I typically wouldn’t unload on readers like this. But I think it’s important for you to see that I am committed. And if you’re going through a difficult time while trying to do something new and important and challenging, it’s probably difficult precisely because of how important it is. Plus, you can take some solace in the fact that you’re not alone.

So, please, keep at it. And I will, too.

We’re going for it. With no backers and very few scruples, we’re pulling a Field of Dreams. (Actually, we’re pulling a Teddy Roosevelt. But I digress.) Build it first, get funding later. Gain momentum by doing. Create something people want to be a part of.

It’s what I’ve been preaching for the past year, and now I must put my lack-of-money where my mouth is. As Steve Hall said in “Lemonade”:

If you’ve had an idea you’ve always wanted to do now is the time to do it. Just do it!

We’re about to start shooting a film about the reinvention of Detroit. And oh, what an amazing team of talent we’ve amassed. Here are the early adopters; those people just crazy enough to build it first and trust something amazing will come later:

• Ringside Creative and Doug Cheek: Powerhouse integrated media studio and sponsors of our Detroit screening.
• Finish Post and Andrea Papazoglou: Post-production facility in Boston that polished the hell out of “Lemonade.”
• Peter Nelson: The DP behind “Lemonade,” “Art & Copy,” and Michael Moore’s “Sicko.”
• Chris Perry: A-list producer, former Arnold colleague, and fellow Bukowski’s Dead Author’s Club mug holder.

It’s far too early to thank the Acadamy. But it’s certainly not to early to thank these people. So, thank you for your insanity everyone. Here we go.

Sure, it’s easier at cocktail parties. “What do you do for a living?” needs some kind of reply. But once we define ourselves by our career titles, it places a whole set of generalizations on us. Most of them are half truths. And all of them are limiting. 

This was the presentation I gave at the PSFK Conference last month. I talk briefly about how I got into advertising and spent 15 years falsely defining myself as an adguy. Then I introduce a bunch of brave souls who looked inward to make a living being who they are.

“Would you do it again?”

Yesterday, I asked this question to my beloved wife, who endured months of uncertainty and inflating credit card balances for the sake of “Lemonade.”

Yet there I was, asking her again to look down the barrel of a loaded mortgage. To fall on the grenades of our finances. Wondering if she could see beyond her still-healing scars to support another uncertain film project.

And this woman, this brave woman, who is neither unaffected nor always certain of her decision to support my insanity, said yes.

I am about to embark on the first leg of production for “Lemonade, Detroit” (working title). The plan is to shoot and edit a trailer, attach it to the case study from the first “Lemonade,” then pitch the hell out of it to financial backers.

It’s an uncertain course with an uncertain outcome. And without this support — this amazing, spiritual, affirming, connective, transcending support — nothing great is possible. Everyone needs their spine. Their sounding board. Their muse. Kathryn is mine.

I’ve tried to lure more than one person away from the relative certainty of future paychecks to climb an uphill startup battle with me. In each case, the realities of commitment prevented it.

It’s absurd of me to expect otherwise, really. How do you do that? How do you convince a gainfully employed family man to leave his post and embark on a question mark? You don’t.

Which makes Kathryn’s willingness to do this with me all the more remarkable. It was a theme consistent throughout “Lemonade.” Bob Weeks wanted to start a coffee roasting business with no clients and his wife said “Go for it.” Jonathan Halitsky wanted to change careers and carefully consider next steps, and his wife said take your time.

But it works both ways. If Kathryn asked me to return to the regularity of full time work — either because she wasn’t ready for another go or because the kids and the house and the need for normalcy were just too important to our family — then my answer would be, yes. Absolutely. The Detroit film stops today.

And that’s what makes our unit work. We are a platoon. Decisions made, together or unilaterally, affect us all. I would sacrifice for her the same way she has for me and for our children. If ever the road ahead looked too dark, we would return to the light. No questions asked. It’s our mutual promise.

Am I ready? No. Never have been. But here we go anyway.

My six year old has a real fear of failure. When Darth Vader takes away Anakin’s life force on his Leapster game, it’s as if Ben’s actual life force gets depleted with it. So rather than move on to intermediate or advanced levels, he just stopped trying.

To help him overcome this fear of failure, I told him he could no longer play with his Leapster unless he spent at least 5 minutes on level two. After that, he could move back to beginner. Just so long as he tried. And it worked, because now he starts at intermediate and feels confident to experiment with “expert” every so often. Just trying was all it took.

His fear of failing at the hard stuff is a little bit like I’ve been feeling lately. For instance, I want to create a version of “Lemonade” with extended interviews, but worrying about time time and money has prevented me from taking the first step. I want to start a “Lemonader” series that highlights some of the incredible stories I’ve come across in my travels. But my perception (excuse) that I don’t have the time has stopped me from doing even one.

Directing my six year old son is one thing. Living the example is another.

I’m home. It’s the weekend. And my brain is buzzing.

Yesterday, one year after attending the PSFK conference and wondering how the hell people get so smart, I got to speak at it. I saw Tina Roth Eisenberg (AKA Swiss Miss) talk about the simplicity of Swiss design and disciplined blogging. Nick Felton talked about the awesome Feltron Report. I heard Naveen Selvadurai wax about the present and future of Foursquare. Andy Spade and Anthony Sperduti showed us what an agency should be. And Zach Lieberman brought the house to tears with his EyeWriter project.

They showed “Lemonade” at lunch, then after the show, we got to see Banksy’s new film “Exit Through The Gift Shop.”

I still can’t believe I was in the same room with these people, let alone on stage with them. And I’m beside myself that “Lemonade” shared a screen with Banksy.

If nothing else, it goes to show that a lot can happen in a year. A health care bill can pass. A human life can be made. A film can be created.

But I’m still wondering how the hell people get so smart.

Submit Your Story. Go to PSFK New York.

There’s a huge community of “Lemonaders” out there. And a great many more who would like to be.

So to get more people inspiring more people, we’re asking those who have reinvented themselves to upload a video submission of their story on the Lemonade Facebook page. The five most commented-on stories will win a free ticket to the PSFK Conference New York this Friday, April 9.

Deadline for submissions is tomorrow at 5:00 PM. So if you’re someone who is reinventing themselves, tell us your story. Others in your boat need to hear it. And you could go to the PSFK Conference in NYC for free.

One, called Adverve, is run by Angela Natividad and Bill Green, two advertising and marketing junkies who love their profession so much that they blog and podcast about it. We had a heart to heart about the industry and how we all got to where we are today.  I even professed my love for Ford despite their indirect blame for getting me laid off.

You can listen to my interview on Adverve here.

The second was Crossing the 180, by Ron Dawson. I have to confess, I hadn’t heard of Ron’s blog or podcast before he introduced himself to me on Twitter. But, boy, I’m glad he did. Ron is an accomplished director and video producer, and is the consummate lemonader. Turns out we both have a passion for meaningful work and are willing to risk a lot to do it.

Listen to my interview on Crossing the 180 here.