Sometimes, maybe all the time, I feel like this picture.
I always feel like I'm in a rush, swirls of wind and color and noise all about me, trying to keep up with the voice within to do this and then that and then the other thing. Everything always seems so damned urgent. Why is this?
Perhaps it comes from years in the news business. Or from running a nonprofit. But I suspect it's genetic, too, just the way I was put together.
The blind rush forward takes me down unexpected paths to unexpected ideas and-- some good, some, well, less than good. But that's OK; there are always plenty. Often I find something that needs more money, or more expertise or more time. It is difficult to breathe in and give the idea some care and feeding. To figure out how it can actually be done.
In the newspaper business I used to plan for three possible stories: There was the go-outside-and-breathe-and-then-come-back-in-and-write-it story. There was the story where you go out and most everything works, you find most of the people you need, you gain an understanding, you see the framing question and story. And then there's the fun level, when you go out and find something totally unexpected, something far more interesting than you imagined.
In the nonprofit business it's figuring out how to do it with what you've got, the resources that are available. How can you execute the idea to the best level possible? In a word, how can you nurture the idea -- with all urgency -- and find the resources you don't have, to take the idea to the level you really want. The level of cool.
Now that's a challenge.