From Serfdom to Freedom

The terrorists. The government. The opposition. The corporations. The protestors. The system. The censors. The religions. The neighbor’s horrible music that doesn’t let us sleep: There are many suspects when it comes to identifying enemies of freedom.

Unfortunately, for those of us who are lucky to live in the richer parts of the world, the biggest enemy of freedom can be found right inside of us. He isn’t so hard to get rid of because he’s superior – but because of the powerful tactics he uses: Fear and ignorance.

Fear and ignorance are what keep us in serfdom.

Guarantees

“Lose 10 pounds in 10 weeks – or your money back.”

We all love guarantees.

Freedom doesn’t come with one.

Even in a free society, your neighbor may go nuts and shoot you at some point. ((As long as there are firearms, that is. But even if there weren’t, he could still stab you – though that’s a lot less likely.)) He may kiss your wife. He may steal your car.

This is why we long for guarantees. As long as our fear controls us, we won’t accept anything less.

  • “Hmm, I’m in this job and it sucks. But who guarantees me that I’ll find anything better if I quit?”
  • “All right, I’ll meditate with you, but only if you guarantee me that I’ll walk away enlightened.”
  • “I’ll only marry you if you guarantee me eternal love and happiness.”

The truth is, there are no guarantees. We may enjoy the perfect life today and have a grand piano fall on our heads tomorrow. The universe can be ironic at times.

Ignorance and Its Discontents

To be sure, fear is only one part of the problem. It’s not that we simply have to get rid of our fears and everything will be fine.

Because it’s not just that we’re unable to make a concrete plan for traveling the world or asking that awesome girl out. Or even that we’re unable to execute that plan once we have it.

It’s that we don’t even think it’s possible!

It’s not that we consciously decide against doing interesting things in our lives. It’s that we’re not even aware of all the great things we could do!

These, then, are the enemies: Fear and ignorance. And if I had to define freedom, I would say that freedom is what we get once we overcome our ignorance and fear. In this sense, freedom is a process, not a status quo. This also means that it’s something that we should never take for granted.

The Antidote

Maybe it’s no wonder that German, supposed to be the language of poets and thinkers, doesn’t have an equivalent for one of the most beautiful English words. It’s a word that goes beyond the stereotypical German desire to plan and control, to completely understand and order the world we live in.

That word is serendipity. ((German readers: I’m open for suggestions. “Serendipität” doesn’t quite cut it for me.))

Serendipity means not knowing what we’re looking for. And still being open to find it. It means unlocking our natural gift to make fortunate and totally unexpected discoveries in our daily life. And it’s an antidote to a life without freedom, because it helps us to overcome our fear and ignorance.

I know this may sound weird to many. And still, there’s a serendipitous notion to freedom: It’s something anybody can experience, but that’s somehow still beyond our control. If you think that’s bullshit, remember the last time you were in love. The last time you smelled fresh coffee while observing a sunrise. The last time you met an old friend on your way home and ended up talking until 3am. Do you think these moments can be forced?

Serendipity itself can be easily ignored. It’ll then be mistaken for simple chance or for divine intervention – merely confirming our beliefs. But serendipity can take us further: It lowers our ignorance because it leads us to unexpected discoveries. It also reduces our fear: We simply don’t expect anything, but remain open to get precisely what we need.

In this sense, embracing serendipity means embracing freedom.

Join the Freedom Fighters: Flâneurs, Idlers, and other Troublemakers

Evgeny Morozov recently wrote about the “death of the cyberflâneur“. He was worried about how the modern web could lead to a “tyranny of the social”, showing us only the content that performs well with the average audience, while skipping anything weird and eclectic. If this happened, serendipitous findings would become a rarity. Freedom would be reduced.

The flâneur is a classical figure embracing serendipitous freedom: Walking on the streets of Paris until he gets lost, he will encounter surprising and unexpected freedoms – just like his modern digital sibling, the cyberflâneur.

How about the other misfits who enjoy this kind of freedom? Think of the idler who seizes a day and relaxes at the beach. He will discover new thoughts and ideas that could easily change the direction of his life.

Think of the raver who meets friends and strangers at unplanned techno parties. He will feel this freedom at 180bpm, deep inside of him.

The painter who paints just to paint;
the writer who writes just to write;
the dancer who dances just to dance: They all will experience freedom in what they do, no matter if they’re dilettantes or professionals.

Calmness and community, festivity and friendship, creativity and creation are all manifestations of freedom. And they all can be found in serendipitous ways, because they are somehow beyond our control. While they can be experienced by anyone, they cannot be forced: We can trust in finding friends, but we won’t be able to decide about their actions. We can prepare for celebrations, but we rely on serendipity to make the party great.

What You Can Do

If you’d like to explore a new side of freedom, give yourself the chance to have some serendipitous encounters:

  • Be late. Or be early. Put your alarm clock at a different time than you’re used to, and enjoy the pleasure of a slow breakfast. Or the adrenaline of a quick cold shower and a rush to your meeting.
  • Take a different route to work. And a different means of transport. Leave your car at home. Skip the subway. Instead, take the bike or walk, or ask a colleague to take you.
  • Seize a day. Bribe your doctor with a chocolate cake or tell your employers that the husband of your cousin’s sister-in-law has just passed away and you need to attend the funeral. Or be honest and tell your boss that he owes you this Monday and you won’t show up.
  • Get on the same train that you always take. But don’t get off at your usual station. Instead, drive all the way to the end of line. Walk around there for at least one hour and talk to three strangers.
  • Invite one of the strangers on a drink. Or to ride the carrousel with you. To climb on a mountain. Document your adventure with an old camera and send him the undeveloped film as a memory.
  • Buy a different newspaper. Subscribe to 10 quality blogs that are written to cater an audience you are opposed to. Visit a temple of another religion. Try to understand the point Richard Dawkins makes. Then, read the Quran or the Bible and try to understand the point the prophets make.
  • Walk with flowers. Go on a monthly adventure. Do impossible things. Join the 1% club. This is your life, so if you want freedom, dare to take it. And dare to make it.
  • Ultimately, freedom isn’t something to be taken for granted. Nor is it independent of our environment. While freedom starts in the mind, too many people are still living in conditions that don’t allow for freedom on the outside. If you’re better off, use the power you have to build a world of freedom and mutual respect: Support freedom fighters everywhere, get engaged in your community, help the people you meet during your day – be they friends or foes, colleagues or family members, casual acquaintances or total strangers. Smiles, food, political, practical, moral and financial support are all things that can contribute to bring freedom to the world.

…

This post was part of a series about defining freedom, organized by Mike Routen. Find the other post in the series here:

P.S. “Then there is the most dangerous risk of all– the risk of spending your life not doing what you want on the bet you can buy yourself the freedom to do it later.” — Randy Komisar, The Monk and the Riddle (A serendipitous encounter, seen here!)

Make 2012 Your Independence Year

You know I’m not the guy for excessive marketing and frivolous promotions, but whenever my friend and teacher Jonathan launches something, I have to let you know – because it’s worth it!

His newest program is called Trailblazer, and it’s like Paid To Exist on steroids. I had the chance to check out the first run of it last year and must admit that I was impressed by what Jonathan has built – and by what the members have achieved so far! (I was so lucky to stay in touch with several of them ever since, so this isn’t just idle talk!)

Jonathan’s lessons are a good mix of concrete concepts, motivational advice and the occasional kick in the pants. And I wouldn’t stretch it by saying that his expertise in building passion businesses has been proven again and again. You’ll be on training together with a group of like-minded peers to exchange thoughts and strategies and get feedback on your product ideas. What’s even better, Jonathan will join you on the phone once a week to discuss any further questions and really help you build momentum.

All in all, it’s a great offer. While Trailblazer isn’t cheap, you get the guarantee of making $1000 from your new product or service! I can vouch for Jonathan, as I know and have worked with him ever since 2009. If you buy a copy using my link, I will get a commission that helps me keep The Friendly Anarchist going. I’d appreciate it immensely!

Go and check Trailblazer out here.

Life and Business Lessons from Colombian Street Vendors: What a Sausage Salesman taught me about Business

What a Butifarra Vendor taught me about BusinessAt the Caribbean coast of Colombia, festivities take place on the streets. The weather is always great, you can catch a nice breeze, and the neighbors are friendly. So instead of locking yourself in, you put a bunch of plastic chairs in front of your house and create a spontaneous road block to celebrate your party.

Family and friends, some neighbors, and the occasional freeloading loafer will get together, have a few beers and lots of rum, listen to extremely loud tropical music, and dance. Some snacks might be offered, but real food is generally saved up for later at night.

This leads to an interesting constellation, where the butifarra vendor comes into play.

…

Butifarra is originally a Catalan specialty that at some point made it to the American colonies. It’s a type of pork sausage, the Colombian variant being round and small and very greasy.

I have asked plenty of locals about the details – but as it turns out, most people don’t really know how butifarra’s made. Nor what’s exactly inside it.

This and the fact that the butifarra that arrives at the party might already have been carried around for a whole day (or two) in the merciless tropical sun gives them a dubious fame. I wouldn’t go overboard saying that they aren’t a natural-born bestseller.

Consequently, whenever the butifarra vendor gets to a party, he’s treated like Jehova’s Witnesses knocking at the door of Richard Dawkins.

To be sure, the vendors are generally nice guys. They carry their merchandise in huge iron sheet pans in front of their bellies, whose hefty weight leads to their signature hollow-back. They also bring a knife to cut the sausages, and you’ll always know that a butifarrero has arrived when you hear the “knock-knock” they make, hitting their knife against the pan to attract attention.

Their prospective customers, though, are generally critical. Joking at best, condescending at the worst, most of them frown upon the poor vendors and their offer. In the end, who would want to buy a sausage of such questionable origins?

The answer to this rhetorical question isn’t such an obvious “Nobody” as you might expect, though.

Actually, it’s much more of an “It depends.”

And the butifarra vendor knows that, of course!

Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler Enters The Stage

The fact that butifarra vendors are able to make a living might be perplexing to many of us – unless we’ve read Terry Pratchett’s (excellent) Discworld book series. One of the inhabitants of this fantasy world is Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler, a sausage salesman in the metropolis Ankh-Morpork. He’s “Discworld’s most enterprisingly unsuccessful entrepreneur, a ‘merchant venturer’ in Ankh-Morpork, […] most famous for selling meat by-products to unsuspecting souls,” as Wikipedia knows.

We could say, then, that the butifarra vendor is the “Globeworld’s” equivalent to Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler. With the small difference that most of his clients aren’t “unsuspecting”, but drunk and hungry.

…

It goes like this: As the party continues, more and more rum and beer flows down dozens of thirsty throats. The snacks – if there were any – are long gone, and with the increasing drunkenness, hunger becomes an issue. There’s nothing else to eat, and the only food source around is the butifarra vendor, drumming his pan.

But we’ll resist!

We wouldn’t want to get butifarra, would we?

Until the first person breaks.

Sooner or later, the first brave guy among the party attendants puts on a strongman act and gets some butifarra. It’ll be a small sale for the vendor, but it’ll have huge consequences: Suddenly, all the hungry, drunk people around will be watching. They won’t be joking anymore. They’ll just sit and observe. And as the guy starts to eat, he’ll move his head in a deliberative manner and render his judgement pretty fast: “Not too bad!”

This is when the butifarra vendor wins.

Suddenly, other guys will approach him, and the ladies will ask their company to get them a serving. From one moment to the next, the vendor will be surrounded by dozens of people. And he’ll sell his merchandise just like hot cakes.

Lessons Learnt

So here are the lessons we can learn from the butifarrero:

  • Have time.
  • Look for your audience.
  • Be there early.
  • Ignore the laughs.
  • But most importantly: Stay pacient. You’ll get them sooner or later.
I believe that everybody can be our teacher, if we are willing to observe and learn! This was the first of an (overdue) series of things I learnt from Colombian street vendors. If you’d like to follow along, please subscribe here for free updates by email and RSS.

Original image taken from the Wikimedia Commons. CC-BY by Jdvillalobos.

The Nothing Alternative

Raymond Chandler had an interesting approach to getting things done. In his case: Getting things written. Here’s what he said, according to Roy Baumeister and John Tierney in their book, Willpower: ((More on Willpower very soon. That book really is a blast if you know what to take from it.))

Chandler had his own system for turning out The Big Sleep and other classic detective stories. “Me, I wait for inspiration,” he said, but he did it methodically very morning. He believed that a professional writer needed to set aside at least four hours a day for his job: “He doesn’t have to write, and if he doesn’t feel like it, he shouldn’t try. He can look out of the window or stand on his head or writhe on the floor, but he is not to do any other positive thing, not read, write letters, glance at magazines, or write checks.

[…]

Write or nothing. […] I find it works. Two very simple rules, a. you don’t have to write. b. you can’t do anything else. The rest comes of itself.“

Interestingly enough, it seems like Flannery O’Connor used the same strategy. Here is what she recommended to a young writer in 1959:

“You ought to set aside three hours ((Do you notice how she says “three hours”? Another case of a writer admitting to be working less than most people would expect. Three to five hours writing time seems to be the sweet spot for most great writers, as I already noticed here on TFA! But then, three to five hours of quality writing each day is still more than most of us would manage, I guess.)) every morning in which you write or do nothing else; no reading, no talking, no cooking, no nothing, but you sit there. If you write all right and if you don’t all right, but you do not read; whether you start something different every day and finish nothing makes no difference; you sit there. It’s the only way, I’m telling you. If inspiration comes you are there to receive it, you are not reading. […] If you don’t write, don’t do anything else.”

I have experimented with this for a while now: At some point of any given day ((From Monday to Saturday, preferably in the morning hours. See the last part of this post to learn why!)) I open a time slot dedicated to nothing but writing. Normally, this time slot will span over one hour to start with. During this time, I don’t do anything but write – or sit in front of my computer, looking at a black screen with a green cursor on it. ((Yes, I still love Writeroom.))

Theoretically, it would be okay to just sit there and wait. But that’s the only alternative: Write or do nothing. More often than not, some good stuff gets written during this time. More often than not, procrastination isn’t an issue. Actually, the results have been so positive that I’m thinking about expanding this “Write or Nothing” slot to three or four hours myself. My next book might be just around the corner!

Here’s Why it Works

1. Clear Rules

When I start a session, my phone is switched off. I went to the bathroom, I got some coffee and water. There are many temptations inviting me to procrastinate a little, but the rules are so simple and crystal clear that I won’t break them: I may sit and look at my screen. I may look out of the window. Or I may write. Other than that? Nothing. No email. No Twitter. No reading. No sleeping. No talking. Write or nothing.

2. Limited Time

Many writers prefer to have a word minimum for the day. Or a word limit, like Cory Doctorow. While I get his point, I prefer a time minimum to get started. It lowers the barriers and it’s easier to schedule. It never means that I may have to spend seven hours just to reach my 1000 words for the day. If I sit down to write at 10am, I’ll be finished at 11 if I wish to.

The fun thing, of course, is that once I start writing, I’ll often get into flow. I’ll enjoy the process so much that I keep doing it for longer than initially planned. But when I don’t, I’ll just spend the hour doing some editing or outlining (or window-watching) and call it a day.

3. Idleness Included

I sit down to write, but I don’t really expect anything great to come out of it. Often, I’ll actually spend a minute or two looking out of my window, feeling quite fine because I’m sticking to the rules. But then, after those couple of minutes, I generally find it to be more interesting to write than to keep looking at my neighbor’s realty. Turns out their house isn’t all that exciting after all. So I look back at my screen and just start to work.

This may sound silly to many, but don’t discard it before giving it a try: The great thing about the Nothing Alternative is that you  actually are allowed to “do” something else than your work: You may be idle.

Having the permission to drop work for a minute seems to be just what my inner idler needs. It’s also something that can help any writer to clear their head a little, think about their phrasing, or get inspired by some random memory that pops up in the moment.

P.S. The Flow Bonus

Apart from helping me to get something written each day, this approach has another advantage: If I manage to find this hour of writing time at any point in the morning, the generated flow will fuel my whole day: Doing things leads to doing more things.

After getting some writing done, I’ll often be eager to work on other things I care about: Clearing my inbox, editing some photos, outlining an upcoming project. Or, as mentioned, I’ll just keep writing.

While I’m not an early riser, getting something done soon after rising will create a productive mindset for the rest of the day.

Would You Sell Your Freedom for a Quarter Million Euros?

My New Year’s oracle had told me so: In 2012, my finances would finally get sorted out. Big cash was on the way!

A couple of days later, the prophecy became palpable: I got a call from a dear friend who also happens to be a former boss. In plain language, she offered me 250.000 euros (almost $320.000 USD, at current exchange rates) for a five-year job. I would be managing an e-learning project, intended to improve self-study habits at German universities.

I was stunned.

Depending on your own income situation, 50.000 euros a year probably don’t look like much. Or they look like a fortune. For me, the latter was the case. And while I don’t need that much money to live well, the financial side of this offer was certainly intriguing. Considering that I could make the money not by selling crack in the red-light district but by managing an interesting project made it even better: I would work with several universities and learn a ton of stuff along the way that could also be useful for personal projects later on.

Of course, there were also some downsides: In order to become part of the team, I would have to move to a small town in the South of Germany – a nerd capital with a renowned university of applied science, but not much else going on; 600 kilometres away from the next ocean; thousands of miles from my beloved Caribbean beaches. ((Yes, I’m a sucker for life at the seashores…))

Then, of course, I would have to dedicate about 40 hours a week to the project. While the position wouldn’t require regular overwork, this still would mean a huge increase compared to my working hours over the last three years; especially if I wanted to keep The Friendly Anarchist going. As you know, regularly showing up at 9am in a sterile office isn’t precisely my idea of productivity, either.

But the most serious downside by far was that I would have to commit for five years straight. Sure, I could probably terminate the contract early and leave. But I knew that if I promised my friend to take the job, leaving after just a year or two wouldn’t be the right thing to do. Especially not if I planned doing so right from the start.

Leaving Doors Closed

To be clear, I’m not overall opposed to committing myself to long-term projects nor to working 40 or 50 hours a week. The question simply was if I wanted to take on this particular project!

The thing is this: Over the last three years, I haven’t been staying at one place for longer than two or three months at a time. I worked only when I felt like it – and when I didn’t feel like it, I went to the beach, or for a walk, or started reading an interesting book that I cared about. At the same time, I built The Friendly Anarchist, because I care about it. I made meaningful connections, both online and offline, because I care about it.

Over the last year of travel, I met again with many dear friends all over Germany and Austria, at such a relaxed pace that you simply couldn’t attain if you worked on a normal 9-to-5 schedule. And still, I somehow managed to pay for my living (and the occasional camera lens).

Frankly, the job offer was a great opportunity. It may well be the last time such a gig comes along, only waiting for me to say yes. But it also was a tough call: Would I be willing to put this lifestyle on hold for five years in order to execute an e-learning project and work full-time from an office somewhere in Germany?

…

After two nights of sleeping on it, listening to my intuition and also getting the numbers clear, I decided to decline my friend’s offer. Here’s why:

Accepting the position would have “opened a whole lot of doors that I don’t want to go through”. ((The quote is from a Harvard dropout I once linked to in my Summer Good Reads: Getting a diploma would have meant a similar thing to him as getting the job to me. Read about it here.)) If things went smoothly (and I suppose they would have), five years from now I’d have gained a lot of insight into running a multi-million euro project and probably be somewhat of an e-learning expert. I also would have saved about 100.000 euros.

But while I believe that e-learning has a lot of unused potential and will become a central part of regular education over the next decade, it’s not a central passion in my life. Maybe it would have become one, but at which cost?

Right now, I am passionate about the stuff that’s happening here on TFA. I’m passionate about the potential of blogs for creative souls. I’m passionate about empowerment and personal sovereignty attained through productivity. I’m passionate about travel and interestingness. I’m passionate about living beyond rules and working beyond the usual office contexts. I’m passionate about photography, as shown here in most of the posts (especially in the visuals) and on Blue Lies.

I didn’t want to sacrifice all this just to have a stable income.

…

Let me be open with you: Financially, things have been tough at times. But, surprisingly, I always managed to find a place to sleep and a dish of delicate food. I always knock on wood when I say this (and now, as I write this!), but: The money somehow seems to follow. ((As do the job offers. QED.))

Here’s the other thing: I’m 30 years old now. By the time the project ends, I would be 35. And while the transition from 20- to 30something was a smooth one for me, I also know that I won’t be getting younger. And as I get older, I will probably want more comfort, more tranquility and more financial security.

While I feel fine about living on the edge ((The term “on the edge” sounds quite a bit silly. I’m still living with more comfort and luxuries than 90% of the people on this planet. But I hope you understand what I mean.)) right now, who knows how things would be after five years of having a regular income? I now happily sleep at beaches and even on the floor, if it’s necessary. I eat whatever I can find or afford, and I love to cook tasty meals on a small budget. I only carry a small suitcase and am happy to own little. I move places constantly and prefer cheap hostels over five-star hotels.

But I also know that we all get used to certain luxuries easily. Excessive luxuries aren’t really necessary for living a happy life, as I have learnt over the years. And still… once we have them it’s hard to let them go. If I got used to them over the next five years, would I then be courageous enough to trade them back for my freedom?

The Benefits of Knowing What You Don’t Want

I called my friend and thanked her for the offer. It really was an honor to be invited into her project. But I told her that, for now, I wanted to continue on the path I have chosen.

When she heard my decision, she laughed. She told me how she herself hadn’t had any job contract period that was longer than 12 months, ever since she started to work. And how she had already suspected that I wouldn’t accept her offer, living the life I was living.

But she also told me why she had offered me the position anyway: At times, it is helpful to get clear about the things that you don’t want. Not the regular “bad” things like war, illness, and FOX News. But the things that might be cool, great and helpful for many people (a stable job; lots of money; a comfortable home), but that just don’t fit with your way of living.

Having the opportunity to consider these things and then say, “Thank you – but no, thank you” was a great way to realign with the hows and whys of the life I am living.

Honestly, I am extremely grateful to be experiencing the fourth year of this journey now! Thanks to all of you for being a part of it! (And talking about big cash: You could always help me by buying a copy of Productive Anywhere (if you dare to become even smarter, even more beautiful and even more productive!). I’m just sayin’…)