“So, what part of The Spellbinder’s talk did you cats like best?” the vagabond asked, still scratching his wrist. “Was it all the stuff about the psychology of genius that he started out with? Or maybe those incredible models he taught on the productivity hacks of billionaires that he jammed on in the middle? Maybe you were stoked by all the neurobiology that creates top performance. Or did you vibe with his theory on our responsibility to reach legendary while serving as an instrument for the benefit of humanity that he walked us through before that dramatic finish?” The homeless man then winked. And glanced at his big watch.
“Hey, dudes, this has been fun. But time is one of the most precious commodities I’ve learned to bulletproof. Warren Buffett, the brilliant investor, said the rich invest in time. The poor invest in money. So I can’t hang with you humans too long. Got a meeting with a jet and a runway. Know what I mean?”
“He seems to be delusional,” thought the entrepreneur.
“Buffett also said, ‘I buy expensive suits. They just look cheap on me.’ Maybe you’ll remember that quote, too. And,” she continued, “I really don’t mean to be rude, but I’m not sure how you got in here. And I have no idea where you got that fat watch from or what jet you’re talking about. And please stop speaking the way you do about what happened at the presentation. Nothing funny about it. Seriously, I’m not sure the gentleman’s still breathing.”
“Def true,” the artist agreed as he stroked his goatee. “Not cool. And why do you talk like a surfer?”
“Hey guys, chill,” said the homeless man. “First, I am a surfer. I spent my teenage years on a board in Malibu. Used to ride near a point where the rad breaks are. Now I surf the smaller waves in Tamarin Bay, a spot you cats have probably never been to.”
“Never heard of the place. You’re fairly outrageous,” the entrepreneur said frostily.
The homeless man was unstoppable.
“And second, I have been very successful in the business world. I’ve built a bunch of companies that are extremely profitable in this age of firms making billions in income yet nothing on their bottom line. What a joke. The world’s going a little berserk. Too much greed and not enough good sense. And third, if I may,” he added as his gravelly voice grew stronger, “there is a plane waiting for me. On a tarmac not so far from here. So, before I go, I’ll ask you again—because I want to know. What part of The Spellbinder’s presentation did you two like best?”
“Pretty much the whole thing,” the artist answered. “Loved it all so much, I recorded every word the old legend said.”
“That’s illegal,” cautioned the homeless man, crossing his arms firmly. “You could get into serious lawyer trouble doing that.”
“It is against the law,” confirmed the entrepreneur. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I wanted to. Just felt like it. I do what I want to do. Rules are made for destruction, you know? Picasso said you should learn the rules like a pro so you can break them like an artist. Need to be myself and not some sheep with no balls, blindly following the flock down a path that leads to nowhere. Most people, especially people with cash, are nothing but a bunch of frauds,” declared the artist. “It’s like The Spellbinder sometimes says: ‘You can fit in. Or you can change the world. You don’t get to do both.’ So, I recorded the whole thing. Shoot me. And jail would be interesting. I’d probably meet some cool people in there.”
“Um, okay,” said the homeless man. “I don’t like your decision. But I do love your passion. So, go ahead. Bring it on. Play the parts of the seminar that turned you on.”
“Everything I recorded will blow your mind!” The artist raised his arm to reveal a detailed tattoo of guitar virtuoso Jimi Hendrix. The phrase “When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace” appeared over the dead superstar’s face. “You’re about to hear something special,” he added.
“Yes. Go ahead and play the parts you liked,” encouraged the entrepreneur as she stood up. She wasn’t quite sure why but, ever so slightly, something was beginning to shift deep within her core. “Maybe life has been breaking me down,” she thought. “So I can make some sort of a breakthrough.”
Being at this event, meeting the artist, hearing The Spellbinder’s words, even if she didn’t agree with all he said, was giving her the feeling that what she was experiencing at her firm just might be some form of preparation demanded by her greatness. The entrepreneur was still skeptical. But she sensed she was opening. And possibly growing. So, she promised herself she’d keep following this process instead of retreating. Her former way of existing no longer served her. It was time for a change.
The entrepreneur thought about a quote she loved from Theodore Roosevelt: “It’s not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes up short again and again because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”
She also recalled the phrase she’d learned from The Spellbinder’s address—something like “The moment when you most feel like giving up is the instant when you must find it in you to press ahead.” And so, the businesswoman reached deep within herself and made a vow to continue her quest to find her answers, solve her problems and experience vastly better days. Her hope was gradually expanding, and her worries were slowly shrinking. And the small, still voice of her finest self was beginning to whisper that a very special adventure was about to begin.
Letting Go of Mediocrity and All That’s Ordinary
“Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.” —Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
“You’re a painter, right?” the homeless man asked as he toyed with a loose button on his shabby shirt.
“Yeah,” mumbled the artist. “Sort of a frustrated one. I’m good. But not great.”
“I have a lot of art at my flat in Zurich,” said the homeless man, smiling indulgently. “Bought a place right on the Bahnhofstrasse just before the prices skyrocketed. I’ve learned the importance of being around only the highest quality, wherever I go. That’s one of the best winning moves I’ve made to create the life I’ve crafted. In my businesses, I only allow in top players, because you can’t have an A-level company with C-level performers. We only release products that totally disrupt our market and then absolutely change the field by how valuable they are. My enterprises only offer services that ethically enrich our clients, deliver a breathtaking user experience and breed fanatical followers who couldn’t imagine doing business with anyone else. And in my personal life, it’s the same thing: I only eat the best food, though I don’t eat a lot of it. I only read the most original and thoughtful books, spend my time in the most light-filled and inspiring of spaces and visit the most enchanting of places. And when it comes to relationships, I only surround myself with human beings who fuel my joy, stoke my peace and excite me to become a better man. Life’s way too valuable to hang with people who don’t get you. Who you just don’t vibe with. Who have different