This founder manifested her entire career. Here’s her advice for you.
I grew up always knowing that I would write a book. I didn’t know if it would be The Great Chinese-American Novel or a work of nonfiction, but even at a very early age, I was writing (and often illustrating) my own little publications, often on pages of colorful construction paper, bound together by my trusty Swingline stapler.
Thanks to my mom’s tendency to hang on to useless but sentimental items, this past Valentine’s Day, she shared one of these gems that I had apparently "self-published" my junior year of high school as a card to my parents. And while “The Valentine Bunnie Book Featuring Hester” will certainly never make it to anyone’s best-seller list, it reminded me of how ever-present the urge to write has been throughout my life.
In junior high, one of my besties Kyra and I self-published “The Paw Print,” a mimeographed newspaper named for the school’s team, the Bears. I won third prize in a national short-story contest sponsored by the American Cancer Society. Always knowing my future lay somewhere in The Big Apple, I penned an essay entitled “Why I Love New York,” which confounded my Houston teachers (this was in the gritty 70s, before the Apple got polished by Bloomberg). Later, while majoring in marketing and advertising in college, between classes, I made the time to create a single-panel cartoon in the weekly school paper; I volunteered to write, produce and edit a biannual special pull-out style edition, springing from my other love, fashion. After my first job in advertising, I took time off to write my first roman a clef, “Nilla,” which was chick lit at a time when it seemed everyone could land a book deal.
Only I didn’t. It wasn’t a good book. No agent would sign me (though one wanted to date me). One rejection letter suggested I should look into writing for soap operas (!). But I wasn’t deterred. I was all of twenty-five – and the experience gave me the confidence that I could technically perform the task: a 250-page, multi-chapter plot, with imaginary characters and situations drawn from real life. All I needed was something “important” to say. So I decided to be patient – I would focus on my career, leaving writing as a passion to be fulfilled when I had experienced more of life, and actually had something meaningful to express about it.
In turn, I swiftly moved up the career ladder, always following my heart. After achieving what would be my corporate “top,” I hung up my own shingle in 2000 – which proved to be pivotal, even though being an entrepreneur had never been my goal. I was still aiming for the book – one day. But then, about fifteen years ago, a business advisor taught me to view my career and personal goals on the same trajectory, as opposed to the parallel paths I had envisioned. Until then, I’d always believed that achieving success in my work life would give me the freedom to move onto my bigger life goals. I came to realize that approach would make achieving that much harder.
Soon, I found twining the two trajectories was oddly liberating. I learned that by setting clear, and simultaneously vague, ambitions for my life – how and where I envisioned my later years, what I might be doing every day, and with whom, the kinds of conversations, people and spheres I wanted to orbit – I could use this North Star as a filter through which I could make clear professional decisions, always led by my heart, not by money. And when you follow your passions, the money follows. This revelation inspired the now-transformative decision to open a cultural insights practice in 2008, at a time when “culture” was a word mostly associated with yogurt – not the Word of the Year it would become six years later.
Now in 2022, “culture” is on everyone’s tongues, and I’m still on the same path, pushing it forward to get closer to my North – and despite (and even because of) the pandemic’s upending of traditional work structures, I can actually see it on the horizon now. Turns out I’ve been “manifesting” my whole life – I just didn’t know that’s what it was called.
And that book? Along the way, I’ve drafted outlines, pitches, and notes for many potential ideas, coming close, yet never quite getting over the finish line. But I’m still patient, confident I’ll write it when the time is right. Or “write.”
How can you adapt your thinking to manifest in your own life? Try these exercises to set your North Star:
Set your horizon. Try thinking as far into the future as you can imagine. Some call this “retirement,” but I like to think of it as an active time when you’re mostly free of external obligations to work or family, even though they may be present in some form in your life.
Envision the setting. Are you on a beach, in a mountain, in a foreign country, on another planet? What does it feel like atmospherically? Who is with you, if anyone? How do you spend your day? What does it look like aesthetically and architecturally? (Mine involves a serene, simple home in a lush, natural, and tropical environment).
Mine your happiness. Think about moments in your life that brought you joy, made you feel aware of your gratitude and accomplishments. Channel that feeling when you think of your place.
Define productivity. I like to think of myself as the laziest person on the planet, but I know that my brain likes to keep busy. What contribution to the world (commercial, community and/or pro-social) would make you feel satisfied? What would you want to leave as your legacy?
Use your North Star as your filter for decision-making. As opportunities and challenges arise, always make decisions out of hope – not fear – to get closer to your goals. Use it as a filter and a guide whenever you’re at a crossroads. You may detour every now and then, and that’s OK. Just don’t lose sight of the finish line.
Above all, don’t pressure yourself to have all the answers right away. This kind of thinking is an ongoing, iterative process. I’d love for you to share what you start imagining – it may just help others find their way.
Linda Ong is the CEO & Founder ofCULTIQUE, a boutique consulting firm focusing on trends in culture. She’s a contributor to the M.T. Deco blog and a long-time mentor to founder Melissa Blum