Today, I was invited by my roommate to the World’s Biggest Eye Contact Experiment 2017 – Dublin, Ireland. Admittedly, I was a bit hesitant at first (“So you like… stare at people?”), but I figured what the hell? Might as well see what the fuss was all about.

Upon arrival, I was told by one of the event organizers that the point was to find and sit with a complete stranger and maintain uninterrupted, silent eye contact for at least one minute.

I scanned the crowd and was drawn to a woman wearing a bright pink coat sitting in the center of the crowd. I approached her and gestured to her blanket, signalling my intent to sit. She smiled, inviting me to join her.

“Patricia!” she said.

“Ian!” I replied, taking a seat.

We sat together and stared deeply – without judgement – into one another’s eyes. Hers were a light brown with faint golden sunbursts. The gloomy day’s winds would occasionally blow her salt and pepper hair into her face, but we remained intensely focused on one another’s gazes. The venue was the top of Grafton Street – one of the biggest shopping venues in Dublin city – so there were plenty of opportunities for your gaze to be stolen by the hustle and bustle of your surroundings. But true to the experiment, Patricia and I stayed locked on one another’s gazes.

I lost track of time, but we had to have stared in silence for at least 5-10 minutes. Our silence was only broken after I started to smile, which caused her to smile, and then we began laughing with one another. After we calmed down, we started to chat about the experience.

“So, what did you think?” I asked.

“I enjoyed it,” she replied. “I felt very comfortable with you. Even as I saw you walking up, I was put at peace at the thought of sharing your company.”

Then we stated talking about how we were feeling when we staring at one another.

“I got a wisdom and analytical vibe from you,” I began. “Like you were studying and deconstructing my gaze and features. But even amidst that intense focus, I felt very calm and cared for in your presence. Almost maternal, in a way. I’d fancy a guess that you’re a teacher.”

“I was also very comfortable in your presence,” she said. “I saw genuine kindness in you. Openness. That you weren’t afraid to be present and vulnerable with me.”

From there, we spared no topic.

We talked about upbringings.
We talked about fears.
We talked about relationships and love.
We talked about passions and purpose.

Patricia is from Barcelona. She moved to Ireland two years ago to share her passions for teaching dance with those around her. She also works in a hospital for people with mental disabilities. Her work is tiring, but she said it fills her with a genuine sense of meaning and enriches her as a human.

“I was discouraged and thought I’d leave Ireland at first,” she confessed to me. “‘One class,’ I thought. That class turned out to be one of the most powerful and fun classes I’ve ever been in. I’ve been here since.”

She also recently split up with her partner and is going through a bit of a rough emotional patch.

“I was walking down the street last week just crying,” she admitted. “I had taught four classes that week. My body hurt. My heart hurt. But then I realized… Yes! I taught FOUR classes this week! This is what I want to be doing, and I am grateful for the opportunity to do this, even amidst my hardships.”

A fantastic perspective.

After a while, we finished another story, laughed, and sighed. We’d been talking with one another – no distractions – for over an hour. We hugged each other tightly before leaving. Our moods were sky high.

“Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for listening.”

“Thank you for sharing and allowing me to share,” Patricia said. “It was such a pleasure to be in your company.”

We exchanged contact info and went our separate ways – strangers no more.

—

Today was a very real reminder of the power of connecting with people, no matter who they are. It could be your family, a best friend, an acquaintance at work, or a complete stranger. What matters is taking a chance on people, which isn’t something we do that naturally anymore.

Everyone is unique. Everyone has a story. Everyone is succeeding, failing, and striving. And everyone has the potential to touch someone else’s life – even with just a conversation – every day. It’s an incredible power, and one that we can all use if we tear down the walls that society erects, if we ignore social conventions and break out of our spheres of safety and distraction.

I’d invite anyone still reading at this point (hi, thank you, love you) to try something similar today or any day you feel the opportunity presents itself. It’s likely more often than many of us realize, and while small, it can be so transformative of one’s mood, day, or even life.

So let’s reach out, connect, learn, share, and love more. Just don’t stare too long unless you’re told to. 🙂

Love you.

Ian

This post was originally published on September 23rd, 2017

My alarm went off at 4:40 a.m. today.

I wanted nothing more than to hit snooze and go back to bed. Despite preparing for an early-morning workout the night before via cooking and packing healthy meals, divvying up supplements, and laying out my clothes, the tempting siren whispered her sleepy song in my ear.

But I got up anyway. Feet on the floor, on my way to down some cold water, take some caffeine, and walk to the gym at work.

Outside, the weather was much colder than usual. My steps seemed slower. The wind was biting through my hoodie. It was still pitch black outside. I greeted the security guard as I badged in.

I was in the middle of my warm up sets at the gym when my phone buzzed. It was my brother, Andy, who was still awake over in the States. Our texts usually consist of funny memes, and we save the substantive convos for phone calls. I asked him why he wasn’t asleep, and texted him the below picture saying, “You already know what’s going down.”

“Insanity,” he said, saying he was in bed after having finished working late. I told him it was a bit harder than usual to get in today, but I just put one foot in front of the other, and here I am.

“I envy your tenacity and go-getter attitude,” he replied. “You want to be like Jocko Willink and friends. I just wanna be like you.”

I just wanna be like you.

—

My brother and I are very different but are also very close.

For those who don’t know our dynamics, Andy is more soft-spoken, introverted, and inclined to the arts and technology. He’s much taller than me with a longer and leaner build. He’s a brilliant musician and built his computer basically from scratch.

Everyone knows I’m basically a bull in a china shop, extroverted, and more inclined to things like sports and fitness.

Given those differences, I was never really mindful of how my gym life impacted my brother – both his perception of me and the impact my actions (which I assumed he wasn’t interested in) had on him.

“I just wanna be like you.”

Reading that filled me with pride. I had tears well up in my eyes – both then and now as I’m writing this. I haven’t seen my brother in months since I’ve left the U.S. and never realized he watched my actions in the gym with such an analytical eye as to what their deeper meanings and drivers are.

It also reminded me of something important – something none of us should forget:

You are always on display.

Even if you think nobody’s watching. Even if you think the interests are yours and aren’t shared with those not like you. You are always on display. I wouldn’t have had the privilege of being reminded of this had I hit snooze this morning and skipped my workout.

The call to action is clear: Be the best you can be in whatever you do, because you never know who might wanna be like you, too.

I told my brother I loved him and to sleep well.

I won’t be hitting snooze tomorrow.

Love you all. Have a great day.

 Ian

This post was originally published on September 26th, 2017

Today, I volunteered my time at Google helping teach the elderly how to make better use of technology.

I was partnered with Anne, a retired lawyer from Dublin, who wanted to learn how to better use Gmail to keep in touch with her daughter, Andrea (and “the gang” – her children) and her other friends.

“The reason I didn’t start using a computer earlier in my life was that everything I needed was in a book thicker than my computer,” Anne said. “I’d just photocopy it.”

First test: logging in. A few simple clicks, and Anne was back in business.

After logging in, we learned how to navigate her email and replied to a few messages, which included thanking her in-laws for a Christmas gift and replying to a gal pal’s request for coffee next week. We also opened a message with an attachment with an invitation to an educational event at Trinity College Dublin.

“I’m taking classes to stay sharp,” she said. “When you’re retired, you’ve got time to do these things.”

“I love that,” I replied. “I think continuing education is so important.”

Anne had trouble knowing which side of her laptop’s trackpad to click on, favoring right clicking because she’s right-handed.

“I always mess this up,” she said.

“Don’t worry. Just a bit of practice. We’ll get it!” I encouraged.

After clearing her inbox, we had one more message to send – a final test to pass: Anne would email me at my Google email address.

Below is what she sent – a message called “Courage,” because she’d never sent a message with an attachment before. Safe to say she passed. 🙂

“One more thing before we wrap up,” I said. I went into the supplies drawer and grabbed a small, green circular sticker and placed it in the lower lefthand corner of her trackpad.

“So you won’t forget,” I said. We both smiled.

When we were packing up, Anne asked me, “Do you like candles?”

“Candles? Well, sure. I’ve got lots in my apartment,” I said.

She reached into her bag and pulled out two large, red candlesticks.

“Now you’ve got two more,” she said. “You’ve been such a good teacher, and I’m so happy I got to spend time with you today.”

“I am too, Anne. I loved sharing your company.”

I escorted her out and we said our goodbyes. I got back to my desk and replied to her email, thanking her again, and letting her know I was always an email away if she needed anything.

I’m confident I’ll get a reply.

This post was originally published on January 12th, 2018

Your actions, even little ones, can mean a hell of a lot more than you think they do.

Today, I had the privilege of volunteering with elderly members of the Dublin community. The day focused on helping them more effectively use technology. My buddy was Helen.

“I need help with my computer,” Helen said, taking a seat next to me at the table.

“Sure thing,” I replied. “Hopefully I know enough about computers by now to help out.” We both smiled and her lesson began.

We started simply: how do I turn it on? How can I plug my phone in? How can I drag something and put it into a folder?

I helped her pay a car bill online, find out where her email was, and make sure she got a receipt for her payment.

“My car is very old,” she said, laughing. “I pay the bill every three months instead of every year because I don’t know how much longer it’ll keep running.”

We pushed the computer aside.

“There’s something else I want to do. I want to be able to talk to my friends. I want to send them pictures and messages.”

We picked up her phone – an older generation iPhone – and queued up the home screen. There was a photo of herself, an middle-aged woman, and a young girl.

“That’s a great photo,” I said. “Is it your family?”

“Yes it is. That’s my daughter and my granddaughter.”

I noticed a discernible shift in Helen’s mood after she said this. Her eyes sunk to her lap and she put her hands together.

“My daughter…”

She hesitated before speaking again.

“She passed away five months ago. She had cancer. This is the first time I’ve been out of my house in a long while.”

We were both silent.

“I’m just having a rough go of things lately, Ian.”

I gently put my hand on her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Helen.”

We were both silent again.

Finally, she looked up at me. She told me she wants to be able to talk to her friends – her support system – while she navigates these hard times.

That’s when the purpose of our session clicked for me.

The point of me being there wasn’t to help an older woman figure out how all of this technology works. It wasn’t to give a lesson on how to write an email, or send a text message.

No.

The point of me being there was that I was helping Helen connect with those she loves and cares about after one of the most tumultuous events of her life. To get the support she needs to stay strong.

It wasn’t about iPhones, Outlook, or Google Search.

It was about connection, love, and being there for one another.

That was the “why” behind it all.

We carried on with our lesson. I walked her through all of the steps required to send picture messages, get current events by searching for news on Google, and video call her friends, one of whom was in the lesson with us (“Enjoy your lesson and get back to it,” Helen said, signing off).

As the hour drew to a close, Helen asked if I could write down what we covered.

“You know how it is with the memory,” she said. “I’ll forget it all by the time I’m home.”

I grabbed a piece of paper, a pen, and some markers and recapped the most important parts of the lesson for her. The ones that will enable her “why,” and let her connect with her friends and get the support she needs.

I folded it up and handed it to Helen. She gave me a big hug and a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you, Ian. You’re an angel.”

I walked her out and she was on her way home with her friend Maureen, armed with new skills and, to the best I could give it, some love and support as she copes with the loss of her daughter.

Today was another example of how powerful our words and actions can be and the affects they have on others around us. It also reminded me that while we might take the skills and talents we all possess for granted, they can be true gifts for others.

What are your skills?
What are you passionate about?
How do you manifest them?

Seek each day to express them. To live them. To share them. You never know how much it will mean to someone else in the world.

Love you. Have a great day.

Ian

This post was originally published on November 16th, 2018

I had a really tough last week.

I’ll spare you the details, but something I worked six months for – something I and several others were certain would happen – didn’t. When I found out, I was incredibly disappointed in myself.

I worked really hard, but I came up short.

I spent the following days mulling over possible explanations. Took long walks, laid in bed, wrote in a journal. I considered countless variables.

Finally, after days of shutting myself in my apartment and being alone with my thoughts, I found my answer.

The reason this didn’t happen was me.

I worked really hard, but I didn’t work hard ENOUGH.

Of course, accepting this was like taking a hard slap to the face. The realization that I could have reached my goal had I worked just a *little* bit harder was a bitter pill to swallow.

But…

It was also freeing.

It’s freeing because I know what I have to do for next time. It’s freeing because I know what it feels like to fail, and I’ll work like hell to avoid that feeling again. It’s freeing because the power to make it happen is in MY hands. No one else’s.

Knowing that, we fast forward to this morning…

I woke up at 4 a.m. No alarm set – my body just decided it was time to get up. I tossed and turned for a bit, with thoughts of my shitty last week still permeating my mind. I set an alarm for two hours later. I laid back down for a few minutes, but then I realized what I needed to do.

“Alright,” I said to myself. “Time to go.”

I got dressed and walked to the gym in the 30° weather. I warmed up, did my mobility drills, and trained lower body. The photo you see is of the squat rack I was using at 5 a.m.

I snapped the photo between sets, because to me, it is symbolic of WHAT I HAVE TO DO.

Success in the gym requires patience, dedication, and hard work – just like in life. If I don’t make progress in the gym, who else is there to blame except myself? I realized that same truth applied to my current situation.

I may have fallen short of my goal, but it is not out of sight. I’ll have another shot at it. But reaching it requires me accepting where I am now, showing up each day, and doing what I know I need to do.

It’s uncomfortable. I do not like it. I could complain about it. I could blame everything else but myself.

But I won’t.

Like the gym, I will show up, swallow my pride, and do the work.

Today. Tomorrow. Every day after that, getting just a little bit better.

I’ll show up until my goal, just barely out of reach now, is firmly in my grasp later.

Cheers to you, your goals, and your “better every day” – whatever that looks like.

Have a great day. Love you lots.

Ian

This post was originally published on October 30th, 2018