Question I like: what if this were true?

What if what the good they're seeing is actually who I am (and who I can become)?

Dear Friend, (4 min read)

I want to tell you about a guy who turned down a gig so I could have it. (who does that?)

Not because he had to. Not because he was asked. Because he looked at me and decided I needed the reps more than he did.

That's where this starts.

Sidenote: if you’d rather watch/listen this is also a Youtube Video. (same core message)

I moved to Sacramento at 20 years old to answer two questions.

How much better of a drummer could I actually become? And did I want to work in a church long-term?

I'd been playing for seven years at that point. But honestly? I had never been quite good enough to play in live environments. One summer jazz band. That was it. I moved up here to change that.

And then I walked into Thrive College and looked around the room.

There were four drummers. I was third out of four. And the gap between me and number two? Significant.

So I did what I knew how to do. I got a teacher. One-on-one, once a week. I practiced an hour every single day. I found my weak points and went after them. I couldn't make up the skill gap as fast as I wanted, but I could outwork the distance.

That's when two people showed up in my story.

Josh Guerrero was over the Folsom campus. He saw not where I was; he saw where I could go. And he said, "I want Daniel." He didn't have to do that. But he did. And because he did, I ended up transitioning the Adventure campus from an SPDS to a real drum set. I ended up at Bayside Santa Rosa the week before the 2017 fires (and five years later, playing on the anniversary).

None of that happens without Josh deciding to see something in me before I could.

Then there was Noah Dionne.

One day Noah looks at me and says (and I haven't forgotten this): "You're just as good of a drummer as I am. I just keep getting opportunities to play in different environments, and I make mistakes, and I get better. You're actually just as good. You're just not getting the reps."

And then he does something about it.

He turns down a staff meeting gig and tells them to schedule me instead. Then spends two hours with me that night getting me ready. On top of that, he switches from drums to bass at Bayside College (for four weeks) just so I can get comfortable playing in that room.

What neither of us knew was that after those four weeks, he'd get sick and have to fly back to New York.

He's gone. The role is mine. And I can handle it.

Not because I was ready when I walked in. Because someone believed in me first.

Here's the concept I've been sitting with ever since.

An angel investor (the financial kind) puts money into companies knowing that eight out of ten are going to fail. But two of them? Two of them are going to be massive. So they invest anyway. Before the evidence exists.

An angel investor of belief does the same thing. They see who you can become and they call it out of you before you can see it yourself.

Josh and Noah were that for me.

And here's what I've learned about receiving that kind of belief: it's hard. At least it was for me. When people would say something good about me, I had a hard time taking it in.

What changed for me was learning to ask one question: what if this were true?

What if what they're seeing is actually who I am (and who I can become)?

Because as soon as I asked that question, something shifted. There was energy. There was life. There was this feeling of: if they can see it, maybe I can actually bring it.

And the thing is, they were right. That's why it matters.

Here's what I want to leave you with.

If you're stepping into a new room right now (a new community, a new industry, a new circle) you're probably asking "do I belong here?" That's normal. But at some point, someone in that room is going to say something good about you before you've earned it.

Let them.

Ask yourself: what if they're right?

And then, once you've been in the room long enough to have something to give, look around. Find the person who's third out of four. The one putting in the reps quietly. The one who just needs someone to say, "I see who you can become."

Be the Noah. Make yourself unavailable if you have to.

Because here's the truth: Erwin McManus has this line that beavers build dams, ants build colonies, but humans build futures. When you paint a compelling picture of someone's future before they can see it themselves, you give them a gift that changes their trajectory.

I know. Because someone gave it to me.

Your assignment this week: send this to your Noah.

The person who believed in you before you did. Just say, "Hey, this reminded me of you. You were an angel investor of belief in my life." That's it. No agenda. No ask.

Just let them know what they did.

Well, that's all for now. -Daniel

P.S. I’m doing a ONE day event saturday april 25th. A one day version of the weekend I did this last week. Reply one and I can share the details with you.