Every Road is a Ray of Light

If you knew my family before 2001, you know that my brother was the most hyperactive of children. To give you a frame of reference, my parents used to put him on a leash when they went out in public. They aren't even that strict about leashing our dog. So when my mom took her four-year-old son to a piano studio in Cupertino for an "interview," it is not surprising that the teacher did not immediately accept him. She shook her head decidedly. I only accept students after they've turned 7. My mom was determined. He is very capable. He needs this. She insisted just talk to him. Sometime during her interview with my brother, the teacher went from "absolutely not" to a reluctant "yes."

She took a risk. She must have seen some potential.

He started with thirty-minute lessons. He couldn't even sit still for that long. After fifteen minutes, our piano teacher would make him run up and down the stairs three times. A couple years later, she was calling him "Professor" (her accent made it sound like an even bigger deal). And a few more years later, she was sitting in the audience of the student-directed play for which he had directed the orchestra. Though my brother retroactively competes with me in every aspect of his life ("what was your GPA when you were in the ninth grade?"), when it comes to piano, there is no competition. We started learning at the same time and he was always better.

Development for the iPad began twenty years ago. That was before my brother was born, when computers looked like this. The fact that developers could see the potential for this device in a future world is pretty amazing. And the fact that they waited and correctly identified the perfect timing in that future world to release the device is pretty skilled.

So often, what exists in the moment distracts us from what could be or worse, convinces us of its implausibility. It takes imagination to see the potential, be it of a skill, a relationship, a product, an art form. The work of Dutch painter Van Gogh went unappreciated during his lifetime (by the way, sorry about the World Cup, dude). You could say that he was ahead of his time. People couldn't see value in what he had to offer.

For two years, I interned with HP's Innovation Program Office. The group was all about looking 10 or even 20 years out. Dreaming and creating for the future. Realizing future potential is about understanding the continuum of innovation and imagining what could be.

But it's not only about imagination. It's also about taking risks.

During a Columbia University information session, the admissions officer spoke. There is a lot of potential out there. We could probably build four or five completely unique classes out of our applicant pool. How do they know they know they've chosen the best class? Well they don't. They evaluate the potential -- the unrefined talent -- then take the risk, the challenge of realizing the potential.

The use of experimental treatments for chronic illnesses follows a similar path evaluating risk and potential.

I think we have been groomed to associate risk with the possibility of failure more than the possibility of success. You know, the whole "for every Bill Gates and Steve Jobs out there..." shpeel. But recognizing potential and taking risks is the only way to make any dream a reality. You can study the stats and receive input and advice, but in the end, it's in your hands. Of course, there are appropriate and inappropriate ways of going about it (think, "The Decision").

To this day, I think about how my piano teacher saw that potential and took a risk. If she had turned my brother away, he or my parents may have lost interest altogether. My family looks back and laughs about those beginning-piano days. And as much as we appreciate the music, we just wish he would plunk out tunes ("realize his potential") during daylight hours.