johnmaconline

First, there was SEO (Search Engine Optimization). 

If you were clever, you could figure out how Google ranked websites in its search results. Once you knew that, you could game the system. Once you could game the system, you could sell your services to others. 

Then, Google became more sophisticated and outpaced the gamers. Then the gamers caught up. And then SEO became YouTube and social media algorithms. 

And so on. Round and round.  

Is this the game you want to play?

You can chase the algorithm, but they have the control, and they’re trying to keep out the gamers. 

But there is a different and deeper algorithm. One that hasn’t changed in 1000 years. 

The human one.

It’s built on curiosity, trust, relevance, usefulness, and impact. 

The “you should see this” impulse and it spreads around dinner tables, break rooms, and group texts. It’s shared not because it was optimized for the algorithm, but because it hit something real. 

You can choose. You can play for the click, or you can play for the conversation. 

The real algorithm is still human. 

Hunger is physical. 

Our body needs food. Our physical state drives physical hunger.

Hunger is also emotional.

We desire particular tastes, forms, and food experiences. The stories we’ve experienced, we tell, and we hear drive emotional hunger. 

One keeps you alive. The other makes you feel alive.

We need food. But we want tacos. We want the corner booth, the smell of lime and cilantro, the basket of chips before the meal. The margarita. 

We want the feeling.

Needs keep the system running. Desires shape the experience.

This isn’t just about food. It’s how we build products. Lead teams. Raise our kids. Choose careers.

Desires and needs don’t always align. Sometimes they conflict. Sometimes they trick. 

Our job isn’t to eliminate desire or shame it. It’s to see both. To design for both. To build stories around both. 

A life that meets only needs is starvation. 

A friend of mine has an amazing little trick she uses with her kids. 

Well, it’s not a trick. To call it so is to undervalue its brilliance and the truth it uncovers. It’s psychology at its most powerful. 

Two photos:

1. Very happy and excited
2. Sad, upset, crying, or angry

In the moment (whatever moment that is), you simply show them each of these pictures of themself and say, “Both of these are you. You get to decide which one of them you want to show up. It’s up to you.”

How you show up is a choice. 

At the table. At work. For your partner. For your family. For your community. 

You are all those people in the pictures. 

How do you want to show up for this? 

Have you seen the (brilliant) Miller Lite 50th anniversary commercials? 

Christopher Walken voicing over, “Legendary stories start with a Lite.” 

It taps into something powerful about human nature (as does most good advertising) — life is all about stories. 

And the start is magic. You’re staring at the fork in the road. You can go either way. Which way? Well, where do you want to go? You don’t know? Then it doesn’t matter. Just go. 

Yet, starting is sometimes the hardest part.

We don’t like unknown. We like guaranteed. We want to know the ending before we commit to the beginning. 

If this, then that. Go this way, you’ll end up here. 

We obsess over perfection. Over what they’ll say. Over how we’ll look. Over losing what we have. Over never making it to the destination.

So we stay put. We stay in our lane. We keep sipping the green juice. We keep funneling the 6% into our 401k. 

But that’s not how legendary stories are made. 

Legendary stories start with an unknown ending and a host of possibilities. 

They start with a desire and a little risk. A little curiosity. A little stupid. A little brave.

They start before the plan is ready. They start with motion.

So go ahead. 

Crack one open and take that first step. 

Start your story.

In Season 5, episode 2 of Downton Abbey (IYKYK), Carson and Mrs Hughes face a disagreement. 

He and she are on different sides of an issue he feels strongly about, and he’s uncomfortable. He doesn’t like it when they’re not on the same side. 

But also, he’s convicted. He believes he’s right. She’s wrong. He can’t simply go along to get along. He’s too principled for that. 

However, he remains open. He admits that he’s willing to be convinced. All he needs is someone to convince him. 

And eventually, a simple conversation does the trick. He’s been convinced. 

That’s what we need more of. More openness without tossing our principles to the wind. 

Open to new data, new arguments, new feelings. Open to changing needs, changing perspectives, and changing culture. Open to changing one’s mind. Open to being convinced. 

Open.

Changing your mind isn’t a weakness. It doesn’t mean you don’t have principles. 

Openness is the bridge between conviction and wisdom. Without it, all you have is stubbornness.

Today is my birthday.

Thanks. No big deal.

Yet, it is a big deal. Not because it’s me, or it’s a milestone, or there’s some need to celebrate. 

It’s a big deal because a) there aren’t that many left, and yet b) there are many left. 

What will I do with them? 

I plan to keep the “I will be” list long and inspiring. 
I plan to express my gratitude.
I plan to keep learning.
I plan to ensure those around me know I love them.
I plan to get better.
I plan to take it as it comes.

I plan to get started. 

I stood in front of potential investors, giving my pitch, and was asked the following:

“Are you all working full-time in the business?”
“Yes”
“Oh, good, we like our founders to be PhDs.”

A little confused, I said, “PhDs??”

“Poor. Hungry. And desperate.”

Oof.

When you see movies about startups or hear founders talk on Guy Raz’s show, you get a lot of this. Couch surfing. Living in a barely running sub-compact (that you park around the corner so nobody sees). Skinny and scrounging. Two different shoes or homemade clothes. Lots of kindness from family, friends, and sometimes strangers. 

Poor. Hungry. Desperate. It makes a good origin story. 

You have two things when you are in this state:

1. Nothing to lose. 
2. No power.

That’s right where they want you.

Nothing to lose means you should have the fire to do whatever it takes. Yet, no power means you’re desperate for the money/resources. Which means if they give it to you, they have the power.

The magic here is hungry.

You don’t need to be poor or desperate to be hungry. Hungry can come from vision, hope, and desire — a deep inner need to make a difference. 

So the question isn’t just, “Are you hungry?” The real question is, “Who holds the power when you are?”

Because with hunger as the fuel, power is the steering wheel. If you hand off the steering wheel, then someone else is in control of your destination. 

Maybe avoid one or some of these today:

• Hitting snooze
• Sitting all day
• Taking what’s yours
• Looking past the person talking to you
• Talking over someone else
• Checking your phone in the middle of a conversation
• Getting upset about gas prices
• Taking revenge
• Skipping a lunch break
• Staying comfortable
• Overexplaining
• Overpromising
• Underdelivering
• Staying in your lane
• Sugar substitutes
• Doing the easy thing
• Busyness
• Filling the silence
• Focusing on what you can’t control
• Doomscrolling
• Saying “I can’t”
• Reacting to a post
• Waiting for permission
• Multitasking
• Gossip
• Quicksand
• The News

If you need something to do, here are some ideas. 

We all know the jealous form of comparitus. 

The teenager on Instagram. The mid-career professional in the high-end neighborhood. The younger brother at the family reunion.

But there’s a hidden, and just as insidious, form of comparitus.

It’s not based in jealousy. It’s based in false equivalence. 

It shows up like this: “There are plenty of people my age who are running marathons. Why can’t I run marathons?” And, “Look at all of these people who have started and succesfully run their own businesses. Why hasn’t mine been successful?” And, “Einstein published his most famous papers in his 20s. Why haven’t I?”

On the surface, this looks like a “good” form of comparitus. After all, it can be motivating: If they did it, I can do it too. That belief is often the first spark of ambition. It’s important to believe we can do it. 

But here’s the psychology trap. Social comparison theory tells us we constantly measure ourselves against others to gauge progress. It is natural. However, those comparisons only work if the contexts are equal. Most of the time, they aren’t. We don’t see the unseen variables: genetics, geography, family, decisions, timing, networks, even luck. 

We assume similarity where there is none. Yet, we just drop ourselves into the middle of their situation. 

The antidote isn’t to stop comparing. It’s to start appreciating. Gratitude for your own story. Your own timing. Your own path.

The trap is asking, “Why not me?”

The freedom is realizing, “I already have mine.”

You can set it up perfectly. The perfect time, surroundings, and tools. 

Maybe it’s overlooking the water at sunrise. Or the mountains at dusk. Or a balcony as the city bustles below. 

You’ve got your favorite brush, notebook, or coffee mug.

And nothing.

Not because you don’t want to feel inspired. You just don’t.

Until you start. 

Then you realize it’s not the sunrise, or the notebook, or the mountains.

It’s the work. It’s the act of doing. 

If you want to be inspired, start the doing.