Resourceful enough to ask for help
When I was in my early twenties, I loved a succession of musical artists that I had only discovered through nerdy magazines.
I loved music that I had heard about from friends, too. And music I found about from the hipsters who worked at the record stores I frequented. But my appetite for new music could never be sated. I was always looking for more. Whenever I traveled, I was on a quest. Then, the expanding Internet made my job easier, but endless.
When I had the opportunity to start going to see live music—because I was an adult finally living in a place that wasn’t at the edge of the world—I was amazed to find hundreds or even thousands of people at a given show. No one that I knew had ever heard of this band, and yet here all of these people were. How did they find out about the show?
As resourceful as my passion for music had made me, there was a lot that I wasn’t seeing. The nerdy magazines, after all, were designed to promote these new artists and help them find an audience. All of us, artists and promoters and fans, were all participating in the culture together, even if my background of relative isolation hadn’t exactly made me a hub of the network. My tastes weren’t different and weird; I was part of something. I shouldn’t have been surprised.
Having been self-taught in a lot of areas, I’ve had a similar experience in being startled by the extensive skills of others. How does this person know how to play this song on the guitar? How does that person know how to design this sweater with intricate patterns? How does this other one have such a cool website? Well, dummy, this one had a one-on-one tutor. That one took a class. And this other one hired someone to help with the work.
As a teen and young adult, I didn’t realize that there were people you could hire to help you do things—or to help someone good get better. This actually felt a bit threatening when I first learned of it. I was used to self-reliance, and I was broke. My ignorance gave way to arrogance. I just figured I could do stuff myself without considering what I was missing out on.
There was a certain satisfaction that I got from my self-reliance. I learned how to do all kinds of things through sheer determination, and my accomplishments were my own. I recorded two albums of music in my parents’ basement, playing all of the instruments.
But when it comes to music, it doesn’t matter how impressive it is. It matters how good it is. My work, though it showed promise, wasn’t very good. It was limited, just like my own horizons.
I was resourceful enough to get the hang of the equipment and how to play and record all of the instruments, but I needed to learn how to be resourceful in a different way. I needed to learn how to invite others to participate, how to bring out their best, and how to make it worthwhile for them.
Eventually, I began to open up my world a little. I read lots of books, took classes, went to conferences, and made new friends. I asked for help. I hired people. The more support I got, the easier my progress became.
These days, I am a teacher, coach, and consultant who is constantly availing myself of teachers, coaches, and consultants, along with lots of other kinds of help and support. There is no end to the help I need, and seeing this exchange from both sides—as both the helper and the person being helped—has shown me the value of these connections. Everybody benefits.
Our employees, mentors, and colleagues are the ones who put wind in our sails to help us travel farther, faster, and more smoothly than we ever could alone.
Back in the olden days, it was cool to find some obscure artist on my own. But it was so much better to find myself part of a community of fans. I wasn’t alone, and I didn’t need to be. That’s still true as I continue to discover new ways to foster collaboration and connection.
What about you? What support have you asked for that made a difference for you?
And what support could help you on the next phase of your journey?