The first rule of surfing is you must accept failure.
The three most important words in mindfulness meditation: simply begin again.
There are two types of ceramists: throwers and hand-builders.
Control the process and let the outcome take care of itself.
There are many times I have failed and or been rejected in my life. And many, many more to come. That is certainly guaranteed – but the only thing I can control is if I stay out onto the water and keep getting on the surf board. If I simply begin again, and learn to see every rejection as a redirection. To find joy in the process.
In surfing, you simply cannot catch every wave. You will fall off the board. For an amateur like me – you will undoubtedly and repeatedly eat shit. Falling, failing, losing balance is all part of the process. Equally as important, and perhaps more mentally challenging, is waiting.
I have always enjoyed swimming, and I find that swimming out into the water to be a core part of the surfing process that I have started to increasingly appreciate. If you break down the total time breakdown in a surfing session from water entry to water exit, perhaps no more than 10% of my process involves me standing on a board able to wave to my mom and say: “Hey, look– am I really doing it?”
I have enjoyed various forms of pottery for a long time. My relationship with ceramics, similar to surfing, has come in seasonal waves. Recently, I have found myself deep into it, and leaning into the joy of the creative process.
Creating for the sake of creating. It is meditative in a similar way cycling can be, wheel spinning, mind and body in motion.
“I am much more of a hand-builder, a sculptor.” Says Jonah about himself. Jonah, rightfully, identifies as a ceramist. A description I have never thought of myself. Suitably, Jonah has earned the appellation, as he does it semi-professionally, sells his pieces, and often teaches.
“What about you, Mark – are you a thrower or a hand-builder?”
I had never considered the dichotomy, but then again, I had never considered myself a ceramist. I make pottery, but I do it for fun. I give my pieces away as gifts. Sometimes I keep ones I like, but I don’t teach or make money, and don’t ever plan to. I do it for myself, because it’s fun. Sometimes because I want to build something specific, sometimes because I want to scratch the itch to build something.
When I first thought of starting a company, and pursuing entrepreneurship as a career-path, Mati- my co-founder and I must have gone through at least 50 different ideas. Hypotheses, questions, what ifs... To be frank, we had no idea what we were doing, only that we wanted to be entrepreneurs. We wanted to build something. We were throwing until something sticks.
“Hand-builders often want to build something very specific.” Jonah says. “Throwers on the other hand, are more motivated by the process.”
What is the process of surfing?
Swimming, waiting, trying to stand on the board and riding a wave and surfing it, and then repeating until you are hungry or tired or cold or ready to get out of the water. There is a delicate balance between waiting and trying. Wait too long and it can get boring. Try too often and you can get prematurely exhausted.
Throwing and hand-building are very different but also can have a lot in common.
When I throw, sometimes I have an idea of what I want to build, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I start with a certain size of ball of clay, and I have fun with it. Many of the pieces I had the most fun making all contain a rich history of mistakes. But because I was not fixated on making something in particular, I had the freedom to make something different, something unexpected, and to appreciate the beauty in that.
I am trying to approach building a startup in the same way, and be guided iteratively to discovery of product-market-fit, the promised land.
But, when I remove the clay from the wheel and let it dry, one process ends, and another begins. Waiting. Drying. Trimming. Waiting. Drying. Sanding. Waiting. Glazing. Waiting.
There is a convergence of the hand-builder and thrower’s paths when you start trimming, despite a different genesis at the top of the funnel.
There is a Japanese brand of eyewear called KameManNen that I recently learned about. The brand name comes from the following Japanese proverb:
“A crane lives a thousand years, a turtle ten thousand years” (Tsuru wa sennen, Kame wa mannen). The brand symbolizes the pinnacle of Japanese meticulous craftsmanship. Of precision and longevity and their founder’s desire to create durable, timeless eyewear that lasts a very long time. They are expensive, perhaps forever outside my budget. But, the idea is that you will purchase one pair for your life and repair rather than replace when damaged. I like that. I want to build with that attitude.
In 1981, KameManNen was the first company in the world to use titanium for eyewear production.
Kame means turtle, and mannen means ten thousand years in Japanese, reflecting the founder’s aspiration to make eyewear that stands the test of time.
I suspect Kame’s founder and Caletti would get along well, and share not only a respect for craftsmanship but for titanium.
I also suspect they would get along well with Jonah.
I wonder what I will learn about the process of entrepreneurship as we go through our pre-seed phase? Is it more like throwing or hand-building? Or both? How can we balance the need to go fast and iterate quickly, with the desire to cultivate a deep sense of craftsmanship while building.
Are Mati and I a good team because I’m a little more of a thrower and he’s more of a hand-builder?
What’s the right mix of people to bring onboard as we get our little startup off the ground?
I look forward to spending more time thinking about it on the saddle, and writing about it here as I find out.