Southwick’s Big Two Questions

Southwick created this as a TED talk. It was rejected. I know. I was there.

[Spotlight up. Southwick steps onto the stage, sweeping his arms like a magician who’s just pulled a rabbit out of an existential hat. He pauses, gives the crowd a long, knowing squint, then tilts his head like a dog who just heard a weird noise.]

I was watching from my usual seat in the back, nursing a cup of something that might have once been coffee. Southwick had that glint in his eye—the one that meant he was about to drop some wisdom on the unsuspecting crowd, whether they liked it or not. He cracked his knuckles, adjusted his belt like some old-timey sheriff, and launched in.

“Alright, people,” he said, dragging out the ‘alright’ like he was tuning a guitar, “let’s talk about something big. Life. You know, that thing we’re all stumbling through like we lost the instruction manual?” He raised an eyebrow, half-smirked. “Maybe you’ve got a plan, maybe you don’t. Maybe you’re like me and your plan changes every time you get a new fortune cookie. But what if I told you there are two—just two—questions that can help you navigate this whole ridiculous journey?”

The YinYan Questions

Which way is up?

Southwick stretched his arms above his head, then pointed dramatically toward the ceiling, as if trying to make absolutely sure gravity still worked. “That’s your sense of direction. Your north star. Your ‘am I making the right moves, or am I just doing the cha-cha in place?’” He spun an imaginary dance step, exaggerated the motion, and then wagged a finger. “Because, believe me, a lot of people spend years cha-cha-ing in place. Some of them call it ‘career planning.’”

Do I like this?

Southwick made a big show of placing a hand on his heart, closing his eyes, and doing a deep, melodramatic sigh. “That’s your gut check. Your inner ‘hell yeah’ or ‘oh no, not this again.’ It’s what keeps you from turning into a walking LinkedIn profile—” he suddenly stiffened, turned into a robot, pantomiming typing, “—all business, no soul.”

The Three Rocket Boosters

He wiggled his fingers in the air like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat. “But to really get anywhere with these questions, you gotta understand the three rocket boosters that keep you moving forward: Ethos, Logos, and Pathos. Sounds fancy, right? That’s because it is. And it isn’t.”

• Ethos: Southwick struck a heroic pose, one fist on his hip, the other hand saluting the imaginary horizon. “That’s your moral compass. Your ‘good guy’ energy. It keeps you from selling used cars with the odometer rolled back and calling it ‘entrepreneurship.’”
• Logos: He tapped his temple twice, gave an exaggerated nod. “That’s your brainpower. Your problem-solving juice. It’s what stops you from ordering a burrito before checking if you left your wallet at home.”
• Pathos: Hands to chest, he widened his eyes, looked deeply emotional, maybe even a little teary-eyed. “That’s your passion. What makes you get up in the morning and decide to chase something, whether that’s love, money, or the world’s best breakfast sandwich.”

He clapped his hands together. “Now, if all three of these things are in balance—bam! You’re unstoppable.” He snapped his fingers. “But if they’re out of whack? Well, you’ve seen it. The guy with all the logic and no heart?” He stiffened up, spoke in a robotic monotone: “Boring. The one with all the heart but no plan?” He flailed his arms, did a few panicked jazz hands. “Broke. And the one with all the ethics but no action?” He folded his arms, put on a holier-than-thou face. “Well, they’re mostly just writing long-winded social media posts about ‘what we should all be doing.’”

The Big Takeaway

Southwick pointed both fingers at the crowd, then did a slow, knowing nod. “So next time you’re lost, just ask: Which way is up? and Do I like this?” He spread his hands like he had just gifted them the secrets of the universe. “And if the answer to either one is ‘I have no idea’—congratulations. You’re doing this whole life thing exactly right.”

Southwick grinned, spread his arms wide, and bowed. The crowd laughed, nodded, clapped.

I sipped my coffee and smirked. “That was classic Southwick.”

“Now, go forth and navigate!” he said, pointing upward like a rocket about to launch. “And if you find a better way, let me know—I’m always in the market for a good shortcut.”

And with that, he was gone, slipping offstage like a magician leaving behind only smoke and a slightly charred deck of cards. I shook my head, finished my joint, Er. Hold it… Coffee. Yeah. that’ll get throught the censors…, and decided I’d have to write this one down.

I walked home muttering: Big Too. Big Take Away. Big Bud Too. TakeAway Good. Too Good. Good Big…