It's All My Fault: How I Messed Up the World, and Why I Need Your Help to Fix It

by Jordan Phoenix

  Give this scenario some thought. Can you figure out how this is relevant to the world we live in today?

  Through the years, 100% of people I’ve surveyed have responded that they would choose option A. Not even a single person has said that choosing option B is the right thing to do. As you can probably guess, there’s a pretty obvious reason why I created this question. As I stated earlier in the book, right now, nearly half of the children on our planet do not have their basic needs met. Nearly half of the world lives on less than $2.50 a day. 80% of the world lives on less than $10 a day. Anyone who is reading this, by default, is literate. It’s likely that anyone who has enough leisure time to read this also has their basic food, water and shelter needs met, and also has some extra time, money, and energy to be capable of lifting people out of poverty.

  What this means, essentially, is that we are the 20% of people who are at the top of this hypothetical mountain in life. There are many other people out there right now who desperately need our help. In this simplified hypothetical scenario that cuts out all of the extraneous details, and gets right down to the core moral issue, every one of us who chooses option A is choosing to risk our lives and dedicate ourselves to lifting people out of poverty. Now, it’s time for the tough questions: Are we actually living up to these ideals in real life? Are we summoning the courage to look outside of our social circles and societal norms to do what we know deep down is right, even if this means potentially having to challenge the beliefs of all of the people we’ve ever known? If we are not doing these things yet, what changes should we be making right now? These are the real questions we each need to look in the mirror and ask ourselves.

  When I think about global poverty through this lens, it becomes obvious that I have a personal responsibility to do whatever is in my power to address these issues. By taking on this onus of responsibility, it has unlocked a fiercely intense level of passion, fearlessness, love for humanity, and creative problem solving abilities that I never knew I had before. It unleashes something animalistic within me; like a heavy underdog charging full speed ahead to go face to face with a world-renowned champion, knowing that there is no pain or obstacle great enough that could prevent them from victory.

  There is always another alternative to taking responsibility, of course -- to deflect blame and demonize others. When zooming out far enough, and looking at the big picture, it’s pretty easy to see that this strategy is meant to protect the egos of the individual sides, creates polarity, and does very little in terms of creating a real solution. There is a strange phenomenon that occurs when we expect other people to take full responsibility for fixing a problem, rather than taking some responsibility ourselves: We neglect our own power, and we don’t even come close to pushing the limits and seeing just how much we are truly capable of.

  In situations where a person collapses in a public place, there is actually an inverse relationship between the number of people present, and the chances that someone steps up to take responsibility and help that person. The more people there are, the less of a chance there is that someone will help. There have been many cases of people dying in circumstances like these, because everyone present expected someone else to step in, and no one ended up taking on the responsibility of helping. You may question: Why -- out of all of the people there -- are you cut out to be that leader? What makes you so special and qualified? And at the exact same time, everyone else thinks this exact same thing, and no one takes meaningful action. On the other hand, if you are walking down the street alone, and you see someone collapse with no one else in sight, you innately know in that split second that it’s up to you to save that person’s life. It is in this lucid moment of awareness -- where you understand that another person’s fate lies directly in your hands -- that you are capable of accessing the inner superhero quality buried deep within you to do whatever it takes to save them. You may have never taken on leadership roles at any previous point in your life, but that makes no difference. At this moment in time, you can instinctually discover that you are, indeed, capable of becoming a leader; not because it’s easy or comfortable, but because the situation needs you to be one. There are numerous seemingly unexplainable accounts of people being capable of superhuman feats in times of emergency, such as lifting up a car to save a person that was being crushed underneath. Similarly, when we take it upon ourselves to solve a major problem, when we want it badly enough, our minds are capable of developing completely new solutions that stem from a much higher level of creativity. The more the onus of responsibility is placed upon our own shoulders, and the more we feel that it’s up to us to make an impact, the more often we will access the majestic power necessary to move mountains that seemed impossible to budge. This is why, in my eyes, it is all my fault.

  8

  The Journey Begins with a Single Step

  The past few years of my life have been very different from those of almost everyone I’ve ever known. It’s been a wild rollercoaster ride that, at times, has left me face down in the mud, feeling unsure if I would ever gain the strength to bounce back up again. In the first chapter, you got a chance to see a glimpse into the window of some of my darkest moments. What I’ve yet to describe is how I got to that place, how I got out of that place, and where this road leads next.

  After leaving Mexico in the second chapter, I had seen my first glimpses of self-actualization. I was extremely fortunate to have had all of the right conditions line up to allow me to overcome many of the self-doubts and insecurities that had kept me stuck in my shell up until that point. Life outside of the shell felt like I was not even living in the same universe. It was as if I had previously been living inside a black and white television set with bad reception; and then suddenly, life shifted into high definition television with a crystal clear picture, vibrant colors, and booming sounds. This new level of freedom was something that I embraced, and made the most of day in and day out. In many ways, it was infectious. I could sense it rubbing off on those around me. This would all change, however, when I officially became a civil engineer.

  At first, it seemed like it would be great. I had multiple offers to choose from, and actually received a signing bonus months before I even started working. I thought: “This is ridiculous! What am I, LeBron James or something?” I began thinking about all of the possibilities; all of the things I would do with my newfound money. This was completely new to me. I had a strong scarcity-based paradigm engrained into me from years upon years of having to live tight with money. Finally, I thought, those days would be over for good. It was now time for me to ascend into the ranks of those who never had to worry about money. I wanted to know what it felt like to experience that feeling. If I wanted something small for myself, I could go buy it. I could do some really cool things to give back. My first item of business was to do some research into a philanthropic idea I had. I was interested in finding out if sports could be used as a motivating force to improve grades for children in underprivileged areas. Since so many kids love sports, and they were such an essential part of my childhood as well, I thought of an idea: What if I purchased a bunch of tickets to a pro football game, and created a raffle -- whereby the students in a chosen class who scored an 80% or higher on all of their exams, and showed good conduct grades as well -- would be eligible to enter to win? Could this encourage kids to have a legitimate short-term reason to want to do well in school? What if I could actually get some of the players to speak to them after the game too? This could become a once in a lifetime experience! And this was only the first idea of many. The possibilities were endless.

  It all seemed fine and dandy. In the time after graduation, before I was to start my engineering job, I got my real estate license. I figured that by combining my engineering work with real estate and my previous work in construction and landscaping, I’d have all the ingredients necessary to eventually work for myself as a real estate investor. I’d be a millionaire by 28, I’d settle down, get married, and live happily ever af
ter. All of the older adults in my life were proud of me, telling me that I had a great head on my shoulders, and that I was guaranteed to have a bright future. It all sounded great on paper; but it turns out this entire plan would end up in the paper shredder not long afterward.

  All my life, I was trained to believe that any type of vanilla office job was the ultimate reward for working hard. Since I had good grades, it was never a matter of if you go to college, but when you go to college. When I received my acceptance letter to attend college at the age of 16, I wasn’t even aware that not going was even a legitimate life choice for me. Practically no one who had lived on my street growing up had previously graduated from college, and I was told that it was my only possible ticket to financial stability and a better life. The first thing I discovered in my new life as an engineer was that my office was overrun with petty politics. It felt like being in middle school again. No one seemed to be happy to be there, and there weren’t any genuine human connections that were able to form in that type of environment. It was all phony, surface level matter. Mediocrity and apathy were the status quo. I actually got scolded for finishing all of my work too quickly, as having idle time was considered to be “sending the wrong message.” Some of the people with more seniority felt it was appropriate to treat the newer employees without respect. And most importantly, I knew that the projects I was being assigned to were not solving our world’s problems, but were instead actually adding to them.

  To put it frankly, this was not a place to grow spiritually or become a better person. It was a place to make money, bottom line -- and in order to do that, it was an unspoken requirement that you check your genuine self, values, ethics, and worldly beliefs at the door. To me, this almighty dollar that I had been taught to do anything for seemed to have become awfully expensive. This was not what I had signed up for. My job description said that it was my duty to design large-scale infrastructure; it never said anything about having to suppress the person I really was, accept second-class behavior, work on projects that prioritize corporate profits over the well-being of human beings, and conform to a toxic company culture. It was like I was becoming a robot; fully capable of going through all of the motions, but not really feeling the sense that I was actually alive anymore. I thought that maybe it was just my company. But when speaking with numerous friends in various other industries, sure enough, similar stories would arise from everywhere. Some of the other stories were actually much worse than what I had experienced. Not a single person I knew was truly inspired by what they were doing on a daily basis. What shocked me most was how willing everyone else seemed to be to just shrug it off, accept all of this, and just use chain smoking, alcoholism, anti-depressants, mindless television, and other unhealthy addictions to zone out and hide from reality. Why hadn’t anyone ever told me about this before?

  During my commute to work one day, I struck up a conversation with a guy sitting next to me who was in his fifties. He asked me what I did for a living, and when I told him, he said:

  “That’s good! Do you like it?”

  “Not really,” I replied.

  “But why?” he asked. “That’s a good job to have. I imagine it’s steady and pays pretty well, no?”

  “The paychecks are nice, for sure. But the people there are just so miserable and insincere, and I feel like if I stay there too long, it’s just going to rub off on me. If I become a completely miserable and phony person, is there any salary that could really be high enough to make that worthwhile? There has to be something out there that’s better than this. What about you, what do you do?”

  “I’m a stockbroker. I’ve been doing it for around 30 years now.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “Eh, it goes fast.”

  It goes fast? That’s all he had for me? I was shocked. I was hoping to hear a story about how he discovered what he truly enjoyed, with a bunch of tips and tricks for me to be able to use to find my own path. But that was it. Life goes fast. If life is going to go fast, I thought, that seems like even more of a reason to not settle for something that keeps me miserable.

  The bus was in stop-and-go mode that day, as it progressed through heavy rush hour traffic in lower Manhattan. I spent some time looking out the bus window, and observed what was going on in the area. I saw that the sidewalk was jam-packed with hundreds of people in suits, moving in a slow pattern that looked similar to the vehicular traffic in the streets. As I paid closer attention, I noticed that I could not pinpoint even a single person who looked remotely pleased to be there. They were all moving in the same pattern -- two steps at a time -- to fill in the gaps that would appear in front of them. Practically everyone was wearing the same exact uniform; consisting of the same dark suits, white shirts, and black dress shoes. It looked completely lifeless; with heads drooped down, staring at the floor. As I sat back and took it all in, I realized that this snapshot drew numerous striking similarities to film renditions that portray the endless lines of slaves in ancient Egypt. I thought:

  “Along with Tokyo and London, this is one of the three financial capitals of the world. These are supposed to be some of the most prosperous, successful, and wealthy people in the world. This is supposed to represent the upper echelon of everything I’ve ever been taught to strive for in Western culture. And not a single person looks happy to be here.”

  This really got me to start questioning everything that I thought I knew about the world. I had previously witnessed the hardships and stress that came with the lack of money and resources, and I was led to believe that pursuing the American Dream was the solution to this problem. Practically every adult I had ever come across had given me the same advice throughout my life:

  “Stay in school. My life is so hard and unhappy because I fooled around and didn’t try hard enough in school. If I would have just stayed in school, worked harder, and maybe gotten into a good college, everything would have been different. Learn from my mistakes.”

  Was it possible that every adult I’d ever met was misinformed? Could they all be wrong? I’d only been alive for a little over two decades, and many of the people I sought advice from had been on this planet for two or three times as long as I had. Why hadn’t anyone else figured this happiness thing out yet? What had they been doing for all of those years? Why was it that no matter where I looked, it seemed that not a soul had the practical answers I was looking for?

  One day at the office, I heard a retirement speech that would begin to give me nightmares, and essentially confirmed the fact that I was completely at a loss for answers to life’s biggest philosophical questions. An elderly guy at the office was finally calling it quits, and so the company held a retirement party for him. By party, what I mean is that people took a 15--minute break to go into the hallway area between the cubicles to have a slice of cake each. When a slice of cake was passed to me, and I politely declined, a co-worker said: “This guy. I remember when I was in shape years ago too. Don’t worry, just eat the cake. Soon you’ll be plump just like the rest of us anyway!” Needless to say, not a single bite of cake was eaten by me that day. More than anything, it was a symbolic gesture of nonconformity to the typical snarky atmosphere that existed there. It doesn’t matter to me whether someone is the CEO or the janitor; I strive to treat everyone with the same level of respect. On the other hand, if someone believes that their hierarchal corporate status gives them a license to disrespect others, it doesn’t matter to me whether they are the CEO or the janitor; I have no problem with telling them directly that I know they’re capable of treating people better. In most of traditional corporate America, this is virtually a death sentence for your career. I sometimes heard whispers that my frequent refusals to conform and tolerate disrespectful behavior were making me appear to be an outcast and a maverick in the eyes of management, but I didn’t care.

  Next up at the retirement party was the speech. The man who was retiring was given a farewell watch, and he said: “I’ve come to this office every single day fo
r more years than I can remember, minus Sundays and a few holidays. Now it’s off to Florida for me. Thanks everyone.” The poor guy could barely even walk or move around anymore, and his ultimate reward for investing all of the years of his entire adult life into this company was a watch. When I went back into my cubicle, the only thought running vividly through my mind was: “There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that I can allow this to happen to me. I’d rather die than be surrounded by miserable people and do things I hate every day for the rest of my adult life.” I looked far, far down the tunnel of the road I’d been going down, and at that moment, I could see that there was no light shining through the other side. It was a dead end.

  In bed that night, I began tossing and turning, and wondered if this was my destiny. I wondered if everything I’d done in my life up until that point was a mistake. I knew that dealing with the constant turmoil that arose from spending most of my waking hours within a psychologically oppressive environment was a major distraction to finding clarity. Though it was hard to gain a clear picture of exactly what I needed to do instead, I knew that no matter what I was meant to do in life, this was absolutely not it -- and staying there was not going to help me find it. I’d asked around, and it seemed as if none of the recommendations I was getting from anyone about what to do next were resonating with me. This frustrating feeling of not knowing where to turn for advice forced me to take a major step in my personal growth. For the first time in my life, I realized that if others could not guide me in the right direction, I would have to begin to trust my own intuition, and guide myself. This is when I made the decision that I would have to say farewell to my civil engineering career, and instead face my fears of stepping into uncharted territory. I wanted to systematically break down and remove myself from all of the predetermined belief systems and social patterns I’d inherited that had such a major influence on all of my most crucial life decisions up until that point. I wanted to start over with a blank canvas, in order to figure out -- at the deepest and most fundamental levels -- who I was, and what I was really made of. And so, after some unexpected twists and turns, this winding journey led me to a new place where I practically didn’t know anyone -- the city of angels; Los Angeles, California.