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must stay. Sit with it. Give the resistance no quarter. Just stay.

During a sales call, in that moment when you would break the silence to give the

squirming lizard some solace, don't. Sit. Wait the prospect out. The more you want to

give in to the inner voice of anxiety, the more resilient you become. Waiting isn't easy,

which is precisely why it is so effective when engaging with other people. The quiet

strength it takes to withstand the urge to flee builds confidence in those around you.

I was in a high-stakes negotiation last week. The resistance was screaming at me to fold,

to fight back, to surrender, to do anything. Just make it stop! Make it okay!

I heard the lizard and did nothing. I sat with the squirming, sat with the itch, just sat.

The result was a wave of confidence, because finally, after watching me sit for two days

without panic, the lizard realized I wasn't going to change my position. It quieted down. I

was back in charge of myself. The result was freedom. I was free to be calm and

generous and clear in the negotiation, and it turned out far better than I had hoped. If the

resistance had been in charge, the entire project would have crashed and burned.

P.S.: Never let the lizard send an e-mail.

"People Will Laugh at Me"

This is the heart of the matter.

There certainly used to be important evolutionary reasons to avoid risk. Saber-tooth

tigers, for example, could really ruin your day.

Now, however, for almost all the art I'm talking about, the only risk is the loss of some

time (time you were wasting anyway) and the very real chance that people will laugh at

you.

High school.

It often seems to come down to high school.

As you wrestle with the resistance and you make a list of all the reasons you're skeptical,

overly busy, cash-poor, and generally unable to do some art, please add to the list "and

people will laugh at me if I try."

Good. Now at least you have one genuine reason on the list.

Have people ever laughed at you? Not with you, but at you? Derisively. With relish. We

remember that all our lives, and it's affecting the decisions you make today, even though

the people who laughed at you in school don't even remember your name.

(Shenpaand Turbulence)

My friend Jon likes it when an airplane hits heavy turbulence. His insight is worth

sharing. "The odds of a plane crashing from turbulence are essentially zero, so I sit and

enjoy it. It's like a ride at an amusement park."

I'm writing this as my plane hits heavy turbulence and it turns out that he's right. The

moment I stopped trying to will the plane to stay in the air and started enjoying the ride, it

got a lot more fun, and it turns out that the pilot didn't need my help in keeping the plane

aloft.

Shenpaand Income and Success

In the factory age, shenpa was a pain in the neck--it made you neurotic and no fun to be

around. But you could still have a decent job and still be successful, because your

neuroses were on your own time. Your job on the assembly line was too banal to cause

the cycle of shenpa. Instead, you did that at home.

Now, though, in a world where linchpins are valued and cogs are not, it seems as though

unchecked anxiety is the single biggest barrier between you and your goals. Given the

choice, people don't hire or work with or trust or follow people who get stuck in a cycle

of anxiety. You're toxic and we don't want to spend all our time reassuring you. Worse, if

you live in a state of anxiety about tasks that are in demand (like art, brave action, and

generosity), it's going to change what you choose to do. You'll avoid the very things that

would make you indispensable.

I don't want to be around people who are in frequent cycles of pain and fear.

Suddenly, shenpa affects your pocketbook as much as your psyche.

Watching the Watching

My favorite pastime when traveling is watching people watching.

Susan (not her real name) is waiting for someone at a hotel in Chicago (not