October 1, 2024
Geelulu
What if everything we've been taught about success is wrong? What if performance without play is just a well-disguised prison?
I’ve been sitting with these questions for a while now. And recently, the answer showed up in the most unexpected place—a ceramics painting class with my little nephew and sister.
My nephew was turning 4, and he was going through, what I would call an unquestionable obsession with painting. He was especially into painting rocks - with glitter. So, as I’m obviously the cool aunt type, I thought that a ceramics painting experience in one of those crea cafés would be the perfect gift.
As we sat there with our brushes, surrounded by colors and blank ceramics, my nephew threw himself into the activity. Quite frankly, I don’t think he had a plan, except for “paint on as many things as mommy will allow”, and he just painted with absolute joy, proud of each new color added to the eventual, and inevitable pooh brown color that all kids are the masters of making. No doubt, creating a masterpiece of similar quality to the kindergarten artworks on the fridge.
However, as soon as I turned my attention to my own little ceramic bowl, something strange happened. I caught myself… performing. Yes, performing. In a ceramics café, on a chill Saturday morning with zero expectations on me other than to have fun with a four-year-old and his mother. Instead of just being present, and enjoying the no-stakes moment of a recreational activity with people I love, I started thinking: How can I make this bowl look even more beautiful? Which design will impress my sister? Will people admire it when they see it at home?
It hit me like a ton of bricks. How often in life am I doing this? How often am I performing when I could just be playing? Why does there need to be a productive outcome, a purpose, or external validation for me to find an activity worthy or useful?
This 4-year-old with paint on his face, and the rest of the folks in that little cafe on this majestic Saturday morning somewhere in the outskirts of Denmark, could not give less f’s about if I made a masterpiece to the likes of Michelangelo, or if it could win the prize for the most repulsive design in the history of ceramics painting. There quite literally could not be a lower-stakes game, and yet, I felt the pressure to perform. Compulsively almost.
This began to unravel so many moments in my life where performance had not just taken over, but was the only thing I knew. I wasn’t even sure I knew how to play. My career was, of course, no exception. For over a decade, I’ve thrown myself off the biggest cliffs I could find: building businesses, leading teams, raising capital, trying to solve impossible problems in impossible industries, and navigated environments in private equity and the tech startup world. And while the drive to pursue these missions felt very real, I realized that something else was quietly present: I was constantly performing - on stage, in meetings, for investors, and most of all, for myself. I was basically putting pressure on me, to convince me, that I was good enough. It’s actually ridiculous 😂
It took me some time to realize that nothing external could ever satisfy that. No amount of achievements, no amount of applause. It was a question I had to find within myself.
The more I reflect, the more I realize how pervasive this need to perform really is. It’s everywhere. In business, in relationships, on social media, in how we parent, how we look - everything becomes a performance, a way to measure how much self-worth we’ll allow ourselves to feel today, by stacking up against others. It’s not just exhausting, it’s unsustainable.
At it’s core I believe it’s about validation. We’ve been sold the idea that if we perform well enough, for long enough, we’ll finally get the recognition, the applause, the pat on the back that says, you made it. But what we’re really after is the pad on the back from ourselves, genuinely telling us that we’re good enough - regardless of our external circumstances or what we did.
The irony is that in striving for perfection, we lose sight of the magic that comes from being imperfect, messy, and real - wholesome and human. We forget the freedom so many of us are seeking actually is found in the playing, the creating, in the being. We trade our authenticity for applause, and it leaves us creatively - and sometimes emotionally - bankrupt.
That day at the ceramics café, I asked myself a simple question: “Am I playing or performing right now?” That one question fundamentally changed how I show up for everything in my life, and it’s a question I’ve since started asking myself in everything I do - whether I’m in a business meeting, working on a creative project, and even when I’m on the yoga mat, or catching up with a friend.
It’s a powerful litmus test. Every time I ask it, I become more aware of where I’m coming from with what I’m doing. What’s the underlying, or subconscious intention? And is it pure? Or is it a part of me seeking validation?
When I’m performing, I feel tense, focused on the outcome, relapsing into perfectionism, being hard on myself. But when I’m playing, I feel light, bouncy, bubbly. I’m immersed in the process, in the flow, enjoying the creation, not focused on how it will be received or what purpose it will fulfill.
In a way, choosing play is about letting inspiration, curiosity, and wonder lead the way, without judgment, and without conditions. To allow the creative expression to come through, and give ourselves space to be the conductor of it.
Play is not the absence of effort, but the absence of fear and judgment. It’s something we allow ourselves when we feel safe enough to explore, experiment, and take risks. At its core, play is about stepping into the arena without any guarantees. When we play, we risk failing. We risk looking foolish. AND, it’s exactly where our greatest potential is waiting.
It takes courage to play, to create, and to innovate. To step away from the familiar and safe, and dare do something different. Because when we do, we risk standing out, and with that comes the vulnerability of being seen - and inevitably, judged.
In a world headed for what some have called The Age of Average, this is the ultimate rebellion. To be bold enough to play, to innovate, and to stand apart in a sea of sameness and online carbon copies. Play demands that we stop trying to fit in. There’s a fundamental difference between fitting in and belonging. Fitting in requires conformity, belonging requires authenticity and connection.
As the famous Roosevelt quote loosely goes, it’s not the critic who counts, but the man in the arena, daring greatly regardless of the outcome.
Play is the antidote to stagnation.
And this philosophy is what House of G was born out of. House of G wasn’t founded to solve any particular problem. Or to address a market potential in some arbitrary TAM. Or to satisfy investors. There’s no particular ‘business’ reason for existing - other than the exclusively selfish reason that I want it to exist.
House of G was created to be a container for play, creation, and expression. That’s it. There’s no bigger mission, no grand purpose. It’s a space that exists solely to hold the creative energy of those who inhabit it - me, the team, and anyone kind, cool, and relaxed enough to be invited in.
Yes, it’s a creative studio, yes, we create dope brands, and yes, we help really cool people find and express their inner Genius to share it with the world. But the services we offer, and the clients we work with comes from a place of deep and soulful alignment with what lights us up, and the messages we believe in. Saying no enough times to get to the “HELL YEAH!”.
I think we’re entering a time for calm businesses, run sustainably and joyfully by well-regulated (nervous system-wise) and relaxed humans. And I hope for House of G to be one of those.
I’ll leave you with the invitation to ask yourself: “Am I playing or performing right now?”
Because there’s a world of difference between the two. And sometimes, just asking the question is enough to change everything.
P.S.
We’re quietly building something beautiful. And as we do, we’re scouting for freelance copywriters and graphic designers who feel the pull to create with us. If that’s you, I’d love to hear from you.
(P.P.S don’t let a full time position somewhere else stop you, we’re flexible)
