sexta-feira, 6 de janeiro de 2012

quarta-feira, 4 de janeiro de 2012

Quais são os pensamentos inúteis e como se livrar deles?

Por Jack London*

Foto: Bruno de Lima
Este é um artigo diferente, em que o colunista dialoga e se manifesta sobre outro artigo, já escrito e divulgado na rede. Meu parceiro neste texto é James Altucher,investidor, programador, empreendedor e autor de seis livros. O texto original foi publicado no site TechCrunch.com no dia 3 de dezembro e, como é praxe na rede, lá ficou por algumas horas e foi-se, no caminho inevitável dos textos perdidos.

O título da matéria de Altucher era exatamente o título acima, e seu objetivo era listar o que ele chama de “pensamentos inúteis”, que devem ser sempre evitados por quem quer dedicar a vida ao sucesso. Aí vão, portanto, comentados e ampliados, Dez Caminhos (ou Não Caminhos) para o Sucesso. Altucher começa falando de sua vida:

Quando me separei de minha ex-mulher, em novembro de 2008, minha vida foi ao chão. Eram os tempos da crise financeira (como se os de hoje não fossem!), eu estava sozinho e passava as noites em hotéis baratos, enquanto o mundo caía à minha volta. Fechei uma startup que acabara de começar. Por quê ? Não sei, a ideia daquele site ainda é uma boa ideia, mas eu estava focado apenas na minha negatividade.

Nos anos anteriores, havia perdido a chance de investir no Google e no Foursquare. Eu perdi, eu me equivoquei, eu sofri, eu chorei. Todos nós temos sempre muito a lamentar. Que desperdício! Sei que é muito difícil passar a maior parte de um dia sem irritação, medo ou ansiedade, principalmente quando você começa um novo negócio. Eu quero ser sempre produtivo, saudável e feliz, mas reconheço que muitas vezes 80% dos meus pensamentos são negativos, inúteis. Resolvi então listar nove (na versão deste colunista mais um foi acrescentado) filtros que podemos usar para evitar pensamentos negativos. Aí vão eles:

1. Pensamentos pessimistas: julgar-se de maneira implacável é um deles, ou assumir que não somos bons em alguma coisa que nem tentamos. Julgar os outros de maneira implacável também é um equívoco e, na maioria das vezes, este é um julgamento não baseado na realidade, mas sim no meu desejo de ser o melhor. É sem dúvida um pensamento inútil.

2. Vícios: eles começam quando eu acordo, bem cedo. Quem me irritou tanto ontem? Será que estou bem quando me olho no espelho? Quando olho a foto de Larry Page numa revista, me sinto ridículo. Nenhum desses pensamentos me coloca mais próximo da felicidade ou do sucesso. Quem sabe pensar em comer um waffle no almoço ou fazer mais sexo pode ser melhor?

3. Perfeccionismo e vergonha: eu quero fazer mais dinheiro, eu quero que meus filhos me amem, eu quero uma mansão, eu quero ser famoso. Eu quero, eu quero, eu quero. Passamos a vida pensando em objetivos. E, se não os alcançamos, o que somos? O perfeccionismo é uma muleta, útil para explicar o fracasso, ou é isso ou nada. Se não alcançamos o destino imaginado, a vergonha passa a fazer parte da vida. Porque, quando eu tinha 10 milhões de dólares, eu queria 100. E com os 100, ainda me achava imperfeito, desamado, bom, mas não o suficiente, e, claro, continuava a ter ao meu lado, ou dentro de mim, vergonha e sensação de inutilidade em tudo que fazia.

Pensamentos perfeccionistas não são apenas inúteis, são destrutivos.

4. Ciúmes: são destrutivos e inúteis. Por que fulano vendeu sua empresa por 80 milhões e eu ainda trabalho como escravo para um escroque idiota e já estou chegando aos 30 anos? Este é um pensamento que o puxa para baixo, fazendo com que você viva menos do que pode. Quando você achar que só tem aspectos positivos e puros, pare e pense: e se não for assim, quem exatamente é você no fundo de sua alma e desejos? E se você não for exatamente quem pensa que é, quando tem o outro como referência? Ciúmes em geral lhe roubam criatividade, sinceridade,inovação e invenção.

5. Dores: qualquer lembrança histórica pode ser histérica. Dores que fazem parte do passado devem lá ficar. Evite sempre pensamentos dolorosos. Não somos santos e não viveremos nunca em dores e santidade.

6. Medo: tudo muda, logo logo eu envelhecerei ou, quem sabe, agora mesmo, vou falhar em algo que estou fazendo . Quem sabe um dia minha mulher Cláudia venha a me odiar (espero que não). É possível que meus filhos me odeiem. Já vi isso acontecer em muitas famílias de muitos modos, e o trabalho e o dinheiro quase sempre estão envolvidos nesses sentimentos. O medo do futuro é tão doloroso quanto as dores do passado. Cada um deles deve ser deixado em seus respectivos spam boxes mentais. Algumas pessoas vivem a vida como se hoje fosse seu último dia. Faça ao contrário, viva cada dia como se fosse o primeiro. Sempre um novo começo, tempo para o novo e para renovação da confiança.

7. Obsessão: possivelmente o maior destruidor de vidas e do tempo. Obsessão por pessoas, temas e adversários. Quando alguém está aborrecido comigo, simplesmente não aceito essa ideia. Tenho de provar que estou certo, que o outro, este sim, está, como sempre, errado. Não posso imaginar como e por que mereço esse tratamento humilhante. Eu estou certo! Não há dúvida!!

8. Tristeza: não quero dizer que tristeza é um sentimento “ruim”. Há muitos motivos na vida para vivermos e vivenciarmos tristezas. Mas certas pessoas se utilizam da tristeza para viver, até que isso se transforma num vício, numa desculpa para serem pessimistas profissionais. A felicidade é um caminho muito amplo e às vezes nos amedronta. A tristeza nos mantém dentro de nossas fronteiras, e essas fronteiras se transformam nas muralhas onde vive e prospera o pessimismo. O pessimismo é uma maneira de dizer a você mesmo: viva com pouco, arrisque pouco, pense pouco, viva pouco.

9. Viver uma vida útil: se você puser em prática o uso desses nove filtros, você usará seu cérebro e seus instintos de maneira a aprimorar os seguintes aspectos:

A) Nossa mente mais rapidamente se acostumará a perceber quando tem pensamentos inúteis.

B) Sua negatividade é uma rocha que às vezes se erode facilmente, às vezes, não.

C) Quando temos mais tempo para pensamentos positivos, aumentamos a produtividade, a simplicidade, a felicidade e a liberdade.

D) Nem todos os pensamentos inúteis são realmente inúteis. Não faça disso um credo ou uma certeza, apenas considere essa hipótese.

10. Finalmente o décimo mandamento, que vem ao mundo pelas mãos de Altucher e do cronista que vos fala: não acredite nunca plenamente e ordenadamente em qualquer ideia, nem mesmo nesta que acaba de lhe custar dez minutos de sua vida. Repense o que dissemos, reelabore e reflita sempre. Se você passar o restante de sua vida pensando apenas em espantar pensamentos inúteis, isso será também um pensamento inútil e poderá se transformar num pânico obsessivo. Viva e deixe viver, e os 500% de produtividade em breve estarão no seu colo, de uma forma ou de outra.

Boas festas e um produtivo e impecável 2012.

quarta-feira, 28 de setembro de 2011

The Founder Institute

Fonte: Pequenas Empresas, Grandes Negócios.

Quando decidiu criar o The Founder Institute, há dois anos, o empreendedor digital americano Adeo Ressi, 51 anos, tinha em mente uma escola diferente do padrão. Para ele, os alunos não precisariam, necessariamente, ter uma ideia brilhante na cabeça. O mais importante seria identificar traços da personalidade que revelassem, no futuro, pessoas capazes de construir e manter negócios digitais de sucesso. Deu certo. Em pouco tempo, o modelo conquistou alunos em 17 cidades do mundo e nada menos que 350 empresas de tecnologia foram fundadas. Outras 30 cidades, incluindo algumas no Brasil, devem abrigar uma unidade até o fim do próximo ano.

Funciona assim: durante quatro meses, os alunos fazem uma aula por semana, somente para aprender o significado de conceitos como liderança e estratégia. Para se inscrever e participar do processo seletivo, o candidato não precisa ter um plano de negócio. Não é exigida nem mesmo uma vaga noção daquilo que se deseja fazer. Segundo os coordenadores, o mais importante é mostrar “espírito empreendedor”, avaliado por meio de um teste elaborado pela instituição.

A taxa de aprovação não é alta: apenas 25% dos candidatos, em média, se mostram aptos. “Nós precisamos descobrir se o candidato tem os traços que podem fazer dele um empreendedor, porque existem coisas que não conseguimos ensinar. Por outro lado, podemos ajudá-lo a explorar o seu potencial ao máximo”, explica Jonathan Greechan, um dos sócios do The Founder Institute.

Graduar-se na instituição pode ser tão complicado quanto entrar na escola. Apenas metade dos estudantes aprovados consegue se formar. Não basta assimilar o conteúdo apresentado e tirar nota dez: é preciso mostrar capacidade de realização. Ou seja, abrir realmente uma empresa, construir, então, um bom plano de negócios e estar em contato permanente com investidores.

quarta-feira, 14 de setembro de 2011

De onde vêm as boas ideias - Steven Johnson

Dublagem: Editora Zahar

Steven Berlin Johnson é um norte americano que escreve sobre ciência. Já foi citado como um dos mais influentes pensadores do ciberespaço pelos periódicos Newsweek, New York Magazine e Websight. É editor-chefe e co-fundador da Feed, premiada revista cultural on-line. Johnson graduou-se em semiótica pela Brown University e em literatura inglesa pela Columbia University. É autor de Cultura da Interface (2001), publicado com sucesso no Brasil por esta editora. Nesse vídeo ele aborda idéias que estão em seu livro De onde vêm as boas ideias (220 páginas, R$ 36,00), publicado no Brasil pela Zahar, e explana sobre geração de idéias, foco, perseverança, conectividade e troca de idéias. Nada estranho para um empreendedor... Ao fim analisando o cenário da interconectividade parafraseia Pasteur "O acaso favorece a mente conectada".




Abaixo segue uma palestra que Steven apresentou no TED.


segunda-feira, 8 de agosto de 2011

Fracasso como aprendizado – Aula Magna de J.K. Rowling (criadora do Harry Porter) em Harvard.

Vale a pena assistir essa palestra de 21 minutos onde J.K. Rowling profere uma palestra envolvendo os temas "fracasso" e "aprendizado" em Harvard no ano de 2008.

J.K. Rowling Speaks at Harvard Commencement from Harvard Magazine on Vimeo.



President Faust, members of the Harvard Corporation and the Board of Overseers, members of the faculty, proud parents, and, above all, graduates.

The first thing I would like to say is ‘thank you.’ Not only has Harvard given me an extraordinary honour, but the weeks of fear and nausea I have endured at the thought of giving this commencement address have made me lose weight. A win-win situation! Now all I have to do is take deep breaths, squint at the red banners and convince myself that I am at the world’s largest Gryffindor reunion.

Delivering a commencement address is a great responsibility; or so I thought until I cast my mind back to my own graduation. The commencement speaker that day was the distinguished British philosopher Baroness Mary Warnock. Reflecting on her speech has helped me enormously in writing this one, because it turns out that I can’t remember a single word she said. This liberating discovery enables me to proceed without any fear that I might inadvertently influence you to abandon promising careers in business, the law or politics for the giddy delights of becoming a gay wizard.

You see? If all you remember in years to come is the ‘gay wizard’ joke, I’ve come out ahead of Baroness Mary Warnock. Achievable goals: the first step to self improvement.

Actually, I have wracked my mind and heart for what I ought to say to you today. I have asked myself what I wish I had known at my own graduation, and what important lessons I have learned in the 21 years that have expired between that day and this.

I have come up with two answers. On this wonderful day when we are gathered together to celebrate your academic success, I have decided to talk to you about the benefits of failure. And as you stand on the threshold of what is sometimes called ‘real life’, I want to extol the crucial importance of imagination.

These may seem quixotic or paradoxical choices, but please bear with me.

Looking back at the 21-year-old that I was at graduation, is a slightly uncomfortable experience for the 42-year-old that she has become. Half my lifetime ago, I was striking an uneasy balance between the ambition I had for myself, and what those closest to me expected of me.

I was convinced that the only thing I wanted to do, ever, was to write novels. However, my parents, both of whom came from impoverished backgrounds and neither of whom had been to college, took the view that my overactive imagination was an amusing personal quirk that would never pay a mortgage, or secure a pension. I know that the irony strikes with the force of a cartoon anvil, now.

So they hoped that I would take a vocational degree; I wanted to study English Literature. A compromise was reached that in retrospect satisfied nobody, and I went up to study Modern Languages. Hardly had my parents’ car rounded the corner at the end of the road than I ditched German and scuttled off down the Classics corridor.

I cannot remember telling my parents that I was studying Classics; they might well have found out for the first time on graduation day. Of all the subjects on this planet, I think they would have been hard put to name one less useful than Greek mythology when it came to securing the keys to an executive bathroom.

I would like to make it clear, in parenthesis, that I do not blame my parents for their point of view. There is an expiry date on blaming your parents for steering you in the wrong direction; the moment you are old enough to take the wheel, responsibility lies with you. What is more, I cannot criticise my parents for hoping that I would never experience poverty. They had been poor themselves, and I have since been poor, and I quite agree with them that it is not an ennobling experience. Poverty entails fear, and stress, and sometimes depression; it means a thousand petty humiliations and hardships. Climbing out of poverty by your own efforts, that is indeed something on which to pride yourself, but poverty itself is romanticised only by fools.

What I feared most for myself at your age was not poverty, but failure.

At your age, in spite of a distinct lack of motivation at university, where I had spent far too long in the coffee bar writing stories, and far too little time at lectures, I had a knack for passing examinations, and that, for years, had been the measure of success in my life and that of my peers.

I am not dull enough to suppose that because you are young, gifted and well-educated, you have never known hardship or heartbreak. Talent and intelligence never yet inoculated anyone against the caprice of the Fates, and I do not for a moment suppose that everyone here has enjoyed an existence of unruffled privilege and contentment.

However, the fact that you are graduating from Harvard suggests that you are not very well-acquainted with failure. You might be driven by a fear of failure quite as much as a desire for success. Indeed, your conception of failure might not be too far from the average person’s idea of success, so high have you already flown.

Ultimately, we all have to decide for ourselves what constitutes failure, but the world is quite eager to give you a set of criteria if you let it. So I think it fair to say that by any conventional measure, a mere seven years after my graduation day, I had failed on an epic scale. An exceptionally short-lived marriage had imploded, and I was jobless, a lone parent, and as poor as it is possible to be in modern Britain, without being homeless. The fears that my parents had had for me, and that I had had for myself, had both come to pass, and by every usual standard, I was the biggest failure I knew.

Now, I am not going to stand here and tell you that failure is fun. That period of my life was a dark one, and I had no idea that there was going to be what the press has since represented as a kind of fairy tale resolution. I had no idea then how far the tunnel extended, and for a long time, any light at the end of it was a hope rather than a reality.

So why do I talk about the benefits of failure? Simply because failure meant a stripping away of the inessential. I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me. Had I really succeeded at anything else, I might never have found the determination to succeed in the one arena I believed I truly belonged. I was set free, because my greatest fear had been realised, and I was still alive, and I still had a daughter whom I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea. And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.

You might never fail on the scale I did, but some failure in life is inevitable. It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all – in which case, you fail by default.

Failure gave me an inner security that I had never attained by passing examinations. Failure taught me things about myself that I could have learned no other way. I discovered that I had a strong will, and more discipline than I had suspected; I also found out that I had friends whose value was truly above the price of rubies.

The knowledge that you have emerged wiser and stronger from setbacks means that you are, ever after, secure in your ability to survive. You will never truly know yourself, or the strength of your relationships, until both have been tested by adversity. Such knowledge is a true gift, for all that it is painfully won, and it has been worth more than any qualification I ever earned.

So given a Time Turner, I would tell my 21-year-old self that personal happiness lies in knowing that life is not a check-list of acquisition or achievement. Your qualifications, your CV, are not your life, though you will meet many people of my age and older who confuse the two. Life is difficult, and complicated, and beyond anyone’s total control, and the humility to know that will enable you to survive its vicissitudes.

Now you might think that I chose my second theme, the importance of imagination, because of the part it played in rebuilding my life, but that is not wholly so. Though I personally will defend the value of bedtime stories to my last gasp, I have learned to value imagination in a much broader sense.Imagination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and therefore the fount of all invention and innovation. In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, it is the power that enables us to empathise with humans whose experiences we have never shared.

One of the greatest formative experiences of my life preceded Harry Potter, though it informed much of what I subsequently wrote in those books. This revelation came in the form of one of my earliest day jobs. Though I was sloping off to write stories during my lunch hours, I paid the rent in my early 20s by working at the African research department at Amnesty International’s headquarters in London.

There in my little office I read hastily scribbled letters smuggled out of totalitarian regimes by men and women who were risking imprisonment to inform the outside world of what was happening to them. I saw photographs of those who had disappeared without trace, sent to Amnesty by their desperate families and friends. I read the testimony of torture victims and saw pictures of their injuries. I opened handwritten, eye-witness accounts of summary trials and executions, of kidnappings and rapes.

Many of my co-workers were ex-political prisoners, people who had been displaced from their homes, or fled into exile, because they had the temerity to speak against their governments. Visitors to our offices included those who had come to give information, or to try and find out what had happened to those they had left behind.

I shall never forget the African torture victim, a young man no older than I was at the time, who had become mentally ill after all he had endured in his homeland. He trembled uncontrollably as he spoke into a video camera about the brutality inflicted upon him. He was a foot taller than I was, and seemed as fragile as a child. I was given the job of escorting him back to the Underground Station afterwards, and this man whose life had been shattered by cruelty took my hand with exquisite courtesy, and wished me future happiness.

And as long as I live I shall remember walking along an empty corridor and suddenly hearing, from behind a closed door, a scream of pain and horror such as I have never heard since. The door opened, and the researcher poked out her head and told me to run and make a hot drink for the young man sitting with her. She had just had to give him the news that in retaliation for his own outspokenness against his country’s regime, his mother had been seized and executed.

Every day of my working week in my early 20s I was reminded how incredibly fortunate I was, to live in a country with a democratically elected government, where legal representation and a public trial were the rights of everyone.

Every day, I saw more evidence about the evils humankind will inflict on their fellow humans, to gain or maintain power. I began to have nightmares, literal nightmares, about some of the things I saw, heard, and read.

And yet I also learned more about human goodness at Amnesty International than I had ever known before.

Amnesty mobilises thousands of people who have never been tortured or imprisoned for their beliefs to act on behalf of those who have. The power of human empathy, leading to collective action, saves lives, and frees prisoners. Ordinary people, whose personal well-being and security are assured, join together in huge numbers to save people they do not know, and will never meet. My small participation in that process was one of the most humbling and inspiring experiences of my life.

Unlike any other creature on this planet, humans can learn and understand, without having experienced. They can think themselves into other people’s places.

Of course, this is a power, like my brand of fictional magic, that is morally neutral. One might use such an ability to manipulate, or control, just as much as to understand or sympathise.

And many prefer not to exercise their imaginations at all. They choose to remain comfortably within the bounds of their own experience, never troubling to wonder how it would feel to have been born other than they are. They can refuse to hear screams or to peer inside cages; they can close their minds and hearts to any suffering that does not touch them personally; they can refuse to know.

I might be tempted to envy people who can live that way, except that I do not think they have any fewer nightmares than I do. Choosing to live in narrow spaces leads to a form of mental agoraphobia, and that brings its own terrors. I think the wilfully unimaginative see more monsters. They are often more afraid.

What is more, those who choose not to empathise enable real monsters. For without ever committing an act of outright evil ourselves, we collude with it, through our own apathy.

One of the many things I learned at the end of that Classics corridor down which I ventured at the age of 18, in search of something I could not then define, was this, written by the Greek author Plutarch: What we achieve inwardly will change outer reality.

That is an astonishing statement and yet proven a thousand times every day of our lives. It expresses, in part, our inescapable connection with the outside world, the fact that we touch other people’s lives simply by existing.

But how much more are you, Harvard graduates of 2008, likely to touch other people’s lives? Your intelligence, your capacity for hard work, the education you have earned and received, give you unique status, and unique responsibilities. Even your nationality sets you apart. The great majority of you belong to the world’s only remaining superpower. The way you vote, the way you live, the way you protest, the pressure you bring to bear on your government, has an impact way beyond your borders. That is your privilege, and your burden.

If you choose to use your status and influence to raise your voice on behalf of those who have no voice; if you choose to identify not only with the powerful, but with the powerless; if you retain the ability to imagine yourself into the lives of those who do not have your advantages, then it will not only be your proud families who celebrate your existence, but thousands and millions of people whose reality you have helped change. We do not need magic to change the world, we carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better.

I am nearly finished. I have one last hope for you, which is something that I already had at 21. The friends with whom I sat on graduation day have been my friends for life. They are my children’s godparents, the people to whom I’ve been able to turn in times of trouble, people who have been kind enough not to sue me when I took their names for Death Eaters. At our graduation we were bound by enormous affection, by our shared experience of a time that could never come again, and, of course, by the knowledge that we held certain photographic evidence that would be exceptionally valuable if any of us ran for Prime Minister.

So today, I wish you nothing better than similar friendships. And tomorrow, I hope that even if you remember not a single word of mine, you remember those of Seneca, another of those old Romans I met when I fled down the Classics corridor, in retreat from career ladders, in search of ancient wisdom:
As is a tale, so is life: not how long it is, but how good it is, is what matters.
I wish you all very good lives.
Thank you very much.

domingo, 3 de julho de 2011

Inteligência e Vigilância Tecnológica

Vídeo da palestra Inteligência e Vigilância Tecnológica ministrada pelo sr. Claudio Mazzola como parte da Olimpíada USP Inovação 2011.

Disponível aqui

Incentivos fiscais para a inovação - KPMG

Já está disponível na IPTV-USP a palestra Inovação Tecnológica Acelerando o retorno do investimento por meio do incentivo fiscal. O evento foi promovido pela Agencia USP de Inovação como parte da Olimpíada 2011.

Palestrantes: Sergio Schuindt e Antonio Carlos Rocca

A palestra pode ser assistida clicando o link