NO GOOGLE MAPS | A compass for uncertainty
Is it worth it?
Will it work?
What if it doesn’t?
What‘s next?
The term entrepreneur originates from the French word "entreprendre", which translates as „undertake“. And that’s fitting, because entrepreneurship requires a lot of this undertaking: a greater than normal financial risk, the (often underestimated) emotional venture we sign up for, long to-do lists and even longer hours.
For me, starting a business in a foreign country as a non-citizen has been the amplified version of a fast forward course in the art of falling/failing better, that is inherent to any entrepreneurial (ad)venture.
In early 2015 when I registered my LLC in California, things seemed as effortless as my visual backdrop: an ever-reliable blue sky, palm-tree-lined streets and an unfailing golden hour.
Since then, the backdrop has changed. Moving to New York and relocating my business wasn’t nearly as smooth as it seemed under the soft glow of the Californian sun, and I’ve been questioning myself, my choices and roads taken/not taken.
Did I make a wrong turn? And then, the low-grade hum of anxiety...will it become easier?
After all, shouldn’t following my heart, doing this thing I live/breathe for, come with less friction?
Milestones seamless-ly delivered to my door? (Pun intended,fellow New Yorkers)
Earlier this week, I was in Miami. On my last day, I went to watch the sunset at the most southern point, South Pointe. Two weeks prior on a trip to Long Island I made a stop at the most northern point, Orient Point.
To find South Pointe, I followed the street signs, biking along the designated bike path.
To find Orient Point, I typed the address into the car’s GPS - and when I was instructed to make a left at the fork, I did. Without complications, I arrived at my desired destination.
The issue is, in entrepreneurship (and I’d argue the same applies for the other ship -relation-ship) there is no Google Maps to guide us.
Instructions on when to turn left or right, are unclear/missing/wrong, even.
The start, the takeoff, is not so difficult.
Novelty/excitement/passion fuel the early stage, similar to what we experience when we meet someone new: It’s sexy, makes our heart beat faster, and allows us to operate on less sleep, make bold moves, and trust that this was “meant to be.”
To carry us to our final destination, however, we need more than that.
Because, built on passion only, we may lose footing - as passion for the endeavor waxes and wanes. And naturally, "novel" is a state with an expiry date.
If we rely on carefully calculated algorithms, we can mitigate some speed bumps, weather changes, and avoid roadblocks. A good business plan helps.
But we still can’t predict the majority of the path,
no matter how hard we try -
try to see what’s behind the corner, beyond right now.
No Google Maps, Siri or Waze. Instead we are left to no/our own devices.
To look up, reassess, re-route, as needed.
In moments of low visibility, we need an anchor point.
We need a why. A why that is brighter than our when, and hopefully bigger than us.
Our Why* helps us to re-orient, when we have gone off-road; it's the last man standing when passion and algorithms fall.
A strong Why also expands our capacity to be more at ease when things are TBA,
when we just don’t know...yet.
It equips us with the necessary stamina, an unflagging will to keep-up pace along the winding path of uncertainty: to travel on rough roads where street signs are lacking, the terrain is rocky/slippery/ sandy - difficult to transverse.
Is it worth it?
I think so.
Because we never know what the cards may hold, and whilst this is a fragile feeling,
isn’t the hope for the unknowable what we’re here for?
Much love,
Jasmin
*Why can be replaced by "purpose" - which I purposefully avoided. The terms recent popularity has me wary of further inflating it, but maybe that's just me.
_____
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. (Excerpt from Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken)