Every year I try to put myself in places where I’m more likely to learn something I didn’t already know.
It sounds obvious, but it isn’t.
This week I’ll be at SXSW, spending time with the ecosystem around Capital Factory and sitting in on events like Tectonic that orbit the run-up.
Earlier this year I was at CES, as I am most years. I don’t go out of habit or obligation. I go because proximity matters. Ideas compound when you deliberately put yourself where energy, competition, and curiosity converge.
I’ve long believed professional growth is less about what you know and more about where you’re willing to go to keep learning.
I’ve been thinking about that again after reading Runnin’ Down a Dream by Bill Gurley. One theme runs through the book: the most successful people rarely wait for clarity or permission. They move early, often imperfectly, and put themselves in motion long before outcomes are guaranteed.
Gurley tells the story of a young Warren Buffett being told by someone he admired, “Let me know when you’re in New York.” Buffett showed up the next day. It’s easy to miss how remarkable that was. This was the early 1950s, long before Berkshire Hathaway was even a concept, and decades before air travel was routine or easy. Getting from Omaha to New York required time, planning, and inconvenience. Buffett did it anyway.
The lesson isn’t nostalgia. It’s initiative.
I was reminded of this recently while writing about SBIR reauthorization. A number of companies chose to sit on the sidelines while their “easy pass lane” was temporarily blocked. Meanwhile, their competitors kept moving — shaping requirements, building relationships, and closing business in what is arguably the most robust defense market we’ve seen in three decades.
Waiting can feel prudent. Often, it’s just inertia dressed up as “strategy.”
A couple of years ago, I attended an emerging event in Miami hosted by Ryan Serhant — yes, the reality TV personality turned Netflix star. I went because I admired his hustle and wanted to see that energy up close.
At the time, he had already turned his visibility into the most successful real estate brokerage in New York City. Today his firm spans the country, supports more than 1,100 agents, and has generated roughly $20 billion in sales. In Miami, he interviewed the mayor, spoke candidly about brand and marketing, and demonstrated an unmistakable intensity of focus. For a modest up-charge, I joined a private breakfast with about a dozen other attendees.
Star-struck? Not at all.
What stood out was something else entirely: discipline, preparation, and a visible pattern of sustained hard work. Serhant wasn’t waiting for opportunity. He was engineering proximity to it.
One thread that runs consistently through Gurley’s book is proximity — not just to ideas, but to people you admire. Many of the individuals he profiles actively sought out experts as they were coming up. They didn’t wait to be invited; they closed the distance themselves.
You see the same instinct across disciplines. Shaquille O’Neal has often talked about thanking the people who helped him along the way — coaches, veterans, mentors — recognizing that sustained success is rarely a solo act. Kobe Bryant famously spent hours with Hakeem Olajuwon learning footwork late in his career — after championships, after global recognition, after he had nothing left to prove.
That wasn’t insecurity; it was discipline.
The common denominator isn’t talent. It’s intention.
I see a related pattern on the conference circuit. Too many CEO’s replay the same trade-show calendar year after year without seriously evaluating the return on investment. Familiar faces, predictable conversations, comfortable routines. But comfort rarely produces insight.
The most effective operators I know treat events like any other investment decision.
They ask hard questions:
- Did we meet new buyers?
- Did we sharpen our understanding of competitors?
- Did we learn something we didn’t already know?
If the answer is no, they adjust course.
Proximity only matters if it’s purposeful.
That instinct shows up closer to home, too. Each semester at Florida State, I offer students an extracurricular “Ask Me Anything” session. It’s a chance to talk candidly about what theory looks like in practice and about the unexpected rewards of a second career I’ve found both intellectually engaging and financially meaningful.
Not surprisingly, most students don’t take me up on it. That’s not criticism, it’s observation. Many want to learn, but fewer are ready to put themselves in unscripted situations that require curiosity and initiative.
In my book Make Your Move, I wrote about the moment I realized that after leaving the military, no one else was responsible for my professional development. The scaffolding was gone. Continuing education wasn’t scheduled for me anymore — it was up to me.
That lesson never left.
If there’s a through-line connecting Buffett in the 1950s, Serhant in Miami, my students at FSU, and the strongest executives I work with today, it’s this: they show up.
Sometimes that means boarding a flight you didn’t strictly need to take.
Sometimes it means walking into a room where you know no one.
Sometimes it means asking a question you’re not entirely sure how to phrase.
But almost always, it means motion.
Success leaves clues — but only if you get close enough to see them.
Aviators and mariners understand something the rest of us often forget: a one-degree course correction can determine where you end up. At 500 miles, one degree puts you roughly 8–9 miles off track. At 2,000 miles, it’s more than 30 miles. Over a career, the difference is enormous. For the engineers (and the skeptics) the math sits quietly in the footnote.†
The same principle applies to learning. You don’t need reinvention. You need a small adjustment — sustained over time.
Three Things You Can Do This Week:
- Change your room. Attend one event (formal or informal) where you’re not the expert.
- Change your inputs. Read or listen outside your lane: one biography, one unfamiliar sector, one contrarian voice.
- Change your proximity. Reach out to one person you admire and ask for 15 minutes. Most people won’t. That’s the point.
†For the engineers (and the skeptics): The navigation math is straightforward.
Cross-track error equals distance multiplied by the sin(θ) of the heading error:
Error = Distance × sin(θ)
For small angles, sin(θ) ≈ θ (in radians).
Since 1° = 0.01745 radians:
At 500 miles: 500 × 0.01745 ≈ 8.7 miles
At 2,000 miles: 2,000 × 0.01745 ≈ 34.9 miles
Make Your Move Podcast
By the way, I’ve been hosting the Make Your Move Podcast since 2022 and have a repository of 113 interviews of veterans transitioning out of service and into professional careers and successful businesses. Nearly all episodes touch on the power of your network and in-person opportunities that significantly shifted trajectories. You can watch episodes on my YouTube channel or stream on all podcast platforms via Make Your Move Podcast page.
