The world is filled with supremely talented people who never do much with their talent. Whether in business or sports, the number of organizations that pay high salaries for young talent, only to be disappointed by subpar results, is legion. As I get older, I'm coming to realize that talent isn't enough to guarantee success.

Something former New England Patriots (and New York Giants) head coach Bill Parcells used to say at the start of every season, usually in regards to some high-paid, first-round draft pick, haunts my brain whenever I see young people described as "talented" and "high potential": "Potential just means you haven't done it yet." Parcells would usually spit on the ground after saying this.

In business and in all creative endeavors, we equate talent with desired outcomes. But it takes a lot more. The tale of the tortoise and the hare is just one of a million examples of talent overcome by grit. The turtle persisted, and the hare got cocky and underachieved. This happens outside of fairy tales every single day and in every single workplace.

If you gave me the choice between hiring a talented person without persistence or a persistent person without talent, I'd hire the persistent person every single time. As a former teacher, I believe profoundly in human development. A willingness and eagerness to learn is the most underappreciated characteristic in human history, in all realms. When you put talent and persistence together, you have genius. Think of jazz great Charlie Parker. We say he was an epic talent, a genius, but he practiced his saxaphone endlessly, with every waking hour ("woodshedding," Parker called his intense practice routine). "Natural gifts" are wasted unless they are fully developed -- which actually makes them earned instead of a gift.

To be honest, we don't always know what talent is. I don't even believe in talent as an isolated entity. I think of talent as accumulated learning that may or may not manifest itself in important action.

Some people CAN but don't want to; others WANT TO but can't. The WANT TO comes first, and the CAN gets developed. I'll take the WANT TO but can't (yet) person every single time, because I put the desire to learn above simply "knowing stuff." Talented and lazy is such a cliche' but it's a tragically common phenomenon. We worship talent in this country -- in business, in sports, in academia -- because we want to believe that "talent" comes easy or in-born. But we woefully undervalue effort, persistence and grittiness -- all of these qualities can be learned and will lead to the acquisition of great skill.

Sometimes, when we say a baseball player is "talented," we fail to recognize the immense amount of work and effort the player has invested in reaching that point. Ask any baseball fan whether they love the most talented player or the one who seems to hustle the most, get dirt on his face, run the hardest -- the answer is always the same. We love the hustler, the player who shows effort and emotion on his face every play. Why? It's both simple and unfair. We can all see ourselves making effort, hustling, but we're not all "talented." We trust effort, while talent seems a bit flighty, unpredictable, and mysterious.

But the talented player, the talented sales person or "gifted" plumber, has also invested tremendous effort in developing his or her talent. We should celebrate their effort and their outcomes. Talent is effort accumulated over time, period. If we want to develop great baseball players or writers or students or managers, we should be celebrating effort, and get rid of the largely-meaningless word "talent."

Talented people sometimes think they don't need to work hard. They are wrong. Hard workers, people who give their full efforts every day, might think they don't have talent. They are also wrong. We can all give our best effort, and that should be celebrated as part of the lifelong process of becoming "talented."

The Japanese K-12 educational system always outperforms the U.S. on math, science, language, and every other type of standardized test (btw, I don't believe test performance equates with intelligence. The reason is simple. The Japanese celebrate effort above talent, while the U.S. tends to do the opposite. In the U.S., we are far too eager to label students as "talented," which sends a clear and devastating message to the "non-talented kids." All students and all humans can build mastery if they continue to give effort, a belief that's at the core of the Japanese educational ethos.

The key is to support learners as they continue to give the effort that builds mastery, and that's what the educational system in Japan seeks to do. Again, I prefer to celebrate effort rather than talent, even if this puts me at odds with U.S. pedagogical approaches.

I don't think I'm a talented writer, but I do think I've spent the last 40 years confronting an infinite number of challenges that writing presents to every writer. Over time, I have solved every writing problem I've faced. This has taken tremendous effort, persistence and grit. I've found a way to keep confronting the obstacles, of writing, and the writing life, not because I'm talented but because I've always been determined to improve my writing. Learning can be painful, but the effort moves us forward. Without grit and determination, there is no talent. If I'm at all "talented" today as a wordsmith, it's because I've blended passion and persistence.

Nobody ever reaches complete mastery -- it's akin to chasing the sun. The object you desire will always be out of reach. However talented you are, you still have things to learn. Want to be a great writer or great at anything? Irish playwright Samuel Beckett offered us the best formula: "Try. Fail. Fail better each time." The values Beckett is celebrating there are effort, resilience (fail and keep failing, forever), humility, passion, and grit. Give me these values any day above the mysterious vagaries of "talent." And if Bill Parcells and Samuel Beckett agree here, then I'm in good company too. Your thoughts, dear reader?

I was fortunate to have a brilliant anthropology professor named Robert Paynter when I was a college undergraduate at UMass-Amherst. Bob wasn't just a brilliant social science researcher and writer, but also one of the best, most passionate teachers I've ever had. It was Bob who helped trigger my lifelong fascination with the roots of human behavior.

Bob was funny too, especially when making important points. He was about 40 when I took classes with him, and he'd enter the classroom wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt. He'd toss down his backpack, stroke his beard, and say provocative things like, "What are the roots of racism? Is it driven by evolution or culture?" Then he'd stop and let us think for a full minute before asking students to raise their hands.

After 10 minutes of our lame efforts to answer the big, hairy question, Bob would shrug his shoulders and walk over to the board. I remember him writing the word "melanin." He'd turn to us and repeat the word before explaining. "melanin creates skin color, and it's a pigment that protects human skin from the sun's dangerous UV rays." He'd stop and let us absorb the words. "So what we call "race" is nothing more than protection from the sun, and it's highly dependent on "clinal zones," the places on the planet where certain gene pools developed over time."

Racism, then, Bob told us a million times afterwards "was merely an irrational, fear-based discrimination against individuals because of their melanin levels." I'd never seen a stronger, more scientifically-based and sense-making attack on racism in my life, then or now. 

Bob Paynter also explained the meaning of culture, which I'd previously associated with some vague blending of Shakespeare, the opera, and Pablo Picasso. "It's just a system of beliefs shared by a group," Bob told us often. He pointed to the class, all of us watching him intently with pens in hand and notebooks open, saying "the job of anthropologists is to simply observe behavior and seek to understand the beliefs that drive human behavior."

Bob taught me that culture was everywhere, in every group, and he taught us how cultures were created. Culture is always a contested, evolving thing. Bob also told us that culture isn't just what people say it is, but includes the underlying beliefs and assumptions of cultural groups.

Whenever I read corporate mission statements or hear CEOs discuss their corporate cultures, I often think back to Bob Paynter's lessons. A piece of paper or a web page with some pretty words on it is NOT a culture, nor is what the CEO says it is. Culture is the lived experiences and beliefs of the people within the culture, and the CEO is just a part of the culture. Business writers often write about "gaps" in a company culture, the spaces between the "official" or "aspirational" company culture (i.e., the slogans on the walls) and the way employees actually behave.

As Bob Paynter taught me, and as I remind myself every day, there is no such things as an "aspirational" culture. Culture is already there as a living, collective thing to be observed every single day. Culture is real, actualized by behaviors and beliefs that create it. The are no gaps in a culture, only a culture. 

Culture is what actually happens, not what leaders say happens. When I watch an Xfinity commercial on TV saying how much the company culture is built around giving their customers a consistently great experience, I always chuckle. I've had several interactions with Xfinity and have never once had a good customer experience. In fact, I've found the customer service providers, at least the ones on the phone, are generally hostile or utterly indifferent blame-shifters who refuse to be held accountable for Xfinity's many technical failures. They seem to like the company less than I do, which makes sense since they work there.

What's the culture of Xfinity? I have a lot of adjectives to offer, many of them not "safe for work," but the Xfinity culture is not centered around meeting or exceeding customer expectations. They take my money and don't really care about service -- if I were an amateur anthropologist (and I am) that would be my description of their culture. If you believed in helping customers, as individuals and as a company, then you would actually help customers, not try to blame them for problems.

Organizations build culture and build trust when they are congruent -- when they do what they say they'll do. Anthropology taught me to observe behavior first, and not rely on fancy words about culture. Your culture is more about what you do than what you say. When the words and deeds are in opposite directions, I focus on behavior, so does everyone. Behavior is the outward manifestation of culture.

Right now we have a crisis of employee engagement in the United States, and we've had it for years. Gallup surveys consistently show that less than a third of all U.S. employees are engaged in their work. I'd love to see what that number is for Xfinity. People are disappointed at work, searching for meaning and belonging and dignity -- all of which are in scarce supply. Most working people are not bringing their whole selves into work, and this costs companies hundreds of billions of dollars a year. They don't like the culture of their organizations, and they opt-out from giving their best.

Culture is about people -- their beliefs and behaviors. Unless you can positively impact those, you can't "improve" a company culture. Culture is inside-out, not outside-in. I can see a company's culture every time I interact with its employee -- indeed, those interactions are both expressions of culture, and creators of culture.

I'm still studying topics like racism and culture, and will likely never stop doing so. They are maddeningly complex areas, but they make us deeply human. Part of what I learned most from Bob Paynter, and the greatest gift he gave me, was a deep curiosity to understand what makes me and others fully human. He taught me to be a better observer of human behavior, to ask big questions and carefully seek out answers, and refrain from judging others. These lessons don't just work in anthropology, but in life too.

As I write this from my downtown Boston co-working space, I am sitting next to a big window that overlooks a dense city-scape of tall buildings and rooftops. I can actually see other workers in the next building on their computers and looking out the window too. Like them, I'm someone who works best in natural light, next to a big window that bathes me in natural light.

As a biophiliac, I've been thinking a lot lately about nature, especially now that summer struggles to show its welcomed face here in rain-swept, chilly Boston. I know that many of you restore yourselves (or "de-stress," "re-charge," or whatev) by spending time with family, going on vacation, doing yoga, jogging, watching TV, reading, or meditating. I do all of those restorative activities too, but my go-to strategy for restoration has always been walking in nature. After a long, hard day of writing, you're sure to find me walking along the seashore or hiking in the Blue Hills.

Nature slows me down, calms me, enables me to regain focus on what matters most in life -- my own well-being and supporting the well-being of the people around me. Nature is a kind of medicine for me.

I'm in the middle of a terrific book called "The Nature Fix: Why Nature Makes Us Happier, Healthier, and More Creative," written by Florence Williams, who is (perhaps unsurprisingly) an editor at "Outside" magazine. The book connects cutting-edge neuroscientific and psychological research to the positive impact nature has on us. While I don't need 38 research studies to tell me that walks in nature make my happier and more creative, Ms. Williams' excellent book makes a powerful scientific case for the health impacts of nature.

Like me, many Japanese people don't need science to make the "nature = happiness" connection. "The Nature Fix" opens up in Japan, exploring the popular Japanese practice of "shinrin yoku," which can be loosely translated as "forest bathing" or "forest therapy." Williams says the Japanese are among the hardest working and most stressed-out people on the planet. The morning commute in Tokyo each days, as she describes it, sounds like something out of "Game of Thrones," with white-gloved train company employees tasked with shoving more and more commuters into already packed train cars. Tokyo traffic is even worse.

Yet on weekend, many Japanese flock to 48 government-run forests around the country for a restorative dose of shinrin yoku. They simply walk in the forest, breathing in the scents of the trees and the flowers, stopping to watch the birds alight on branches, listening intently to a symphony of birdsong, and bathing in the sensory, restorative pleasures of being fully present in natural landscapes. I don't wait for weekends for shinrin yoku, but try to "bathe in nature" every day. 

Nature slows us down, slows our thinking (much like meditation does), it engages all our senses, and brings us back to where we came from and most want to be. As of 2008, most of the global population now lives in cities, which is completely different from how humanity has lived for thousands of years. As scientist E.O. Wilson writes, "the human brain evolved in a biocentric world," surrounded by nature. We're at home there.

I am NOT against cities. I live and work in a great city, Boston, and love visiting cities like New York and London. But I do think cities can disconnect us from nature if we're not careful. The great 19th Century urban architect Frederick Law Olmstead, who built Central Park in New York City and the glorious Emerald Necklace (a series of interconnected parks) here in Boston, always wrote about the benefits natural landscapes offer people living in big cities. Omstead believed greenspaces make us happier, kinder, and more reflective, and he dedicated his life to building urban greenspaces like Central Park..

We need to access different parts of ourselves to be fully human, by definition. We have a body, a mind, a spirit, and all of them need constant nourishing. Walks in nature, or shinrin yoku, do exactly that for me, and can do it for you. I could spend some time explaining the neuroscience of nature's positive impact on human brain chemistry, but I won't. You can pick up "The Nature Fix" for all the science you could ever want (and more).

Suffice to say that it's often healthier to be "bottom up" in the way we use our brains. Instead of constantly accessing the rational brain, the thinking machine that sits at the top of our brain and can trigger endless ruminations over every thought, feeling, and action, we also need to use our lower, more primal brain. The bottom part of our brain doesn't think so much -- it's the child-like brain that smiles automatically, reflexively when a red-plumed cardinal alights on the park bench next to him or her.

In Buddhism, the "child's brain" is celebrated and sought after -- much of Eastern and Western thought/religion is about discovering ways of knowing that simply feel things as a way of "knowing" things. You might call it mysticism, but it's deeply human. This "child's brain" is fully open, assumes nothing but is ready to see the wonder in all things. It is, in my view, the beginning of all knowledge and learning and compassion. I'm not saying you shouldn't think from the top down, using your rational, thinking-machine brain. I'm not Pollyana about the sometimes-bad intentions of other people (politicians and used car salespeople, especially). The rational, thinking brain is there for good reason, But use "bottom up" thinking too. Empty your brain sometimes, turn off (as the popular phrase from the 1960s), and you'll discover wisdom there too.

​Use all parts of your brain to be human. This isn't a zen koan telling you to see all things by simply closing your eyes (although that's a nice thought). I'm just saying that being in nature can help you think better and be more fully yourself.

So when you get some time, or are feeling completely fried in the ol' noodle (happens to me often), you should consider getting outdoors for some shinrin yoku. Bring a granola bar and some water too!

It can be scary starting and running a business -- actually, if it's NOT scary, then you're not doing it right. So many things are unknown, from whether the market will demand what you're selling, to the price at which you'll sell it, to the kind of products you should offer to the kind of customers who might want it. Managing uncertainty, both within yourself and outside of yourself, is what business is all about.

I don't think it's less scary or more stable/secure working for someone else's business. They have the same risks you do, but the rewards are fewer when you work for someone else. The best part of running your own business is that you get to learn -- in fact you must learn constantly to grow yourself and your business. As a business owner, only YOU are responsible and accountable. YOU must develop the plan, learn what you need to know, take initiative, and implement that plan effectively.

If you work for someone else, you're reliant on them to make those key decisions. I'd prefer to be self-reliant, because I believe in my own capacity to learn and improve as I go. So what should someone who starts a business be focusing on? Here are a half-dozen thoughts:

1. Understand the "why?" You have to stand out and stand up for something in this world. Customers want to be able to differentiate you from other businesses in the market, so you had better be different somehow. You can be cheaper, or offer higher quality, or focus on service, or whatever. You need to know why you exist and how you're special. I believe values are what make me different. I believe in helping and sharing, both with my content and as an individual. I seek to build a community of people who help and share. I want clients who believe in helping and sharing.

2. Follow passions to learn. As my writing business has grown, clients have given me more autonomy in selecting topics to research and write about. They've gotten to trust me, and I've worked hard to earn that trust. But this autonomy comes with a hugely important question: What ideas do I want to learn and share? Where do I want to focus my curiosity? I've decided to spend more time focusing on employee wellness, which concerns the physical, emotional and spiritual well-being of people in the workplace. The subject is complex and multidisciplinary, involving psychology and nutrition and mindfulness and more. It's also connected to me personally, not to mention the struggles of friends and family. There's a lot to learn about wellness, and I'm learning by reading and talking to smart people.

3. Take care of people. Any business is just people doing things people do, whether it's a Silicon Valley tech company, a Wall Street investment bank, or a mom-and-pop retail store on the corner. The people in the business define the business and its culture.

Since I'm my only employee, I preserve and value myself, my energy, my creativity, my health, and my soul. I am called upon to be creative every working day, and in order to do that I must be fully human and fully present each time I write. So I rest, eat well, exercise, meditate, exercise, go to church, spend time outdoors, love my family and cherish my friends. When any business takes care of its people, those people will help the business grow -- whether it's a business of 1 or 100,000.

4. Don't change who you are to satisfy all clients. You must define yourself by saying "no." The fastest way to failure is to try to be all things to all people, to become a human Swiss army knife. I work with clients who understand how I'm different and how I work. If client expectations don't align with what I do and how I do it, then I won't work with that client for long. It's never personal, but it's about respecting the way I work and the way they work.

If the client "fit" isn't right, don't change yourself into something you're not to make it "right." Being NOT you is terrible for business. It's much easier to find a client who does fit how you work -- I have a lot of them, and nothing beats mutual appreciation.

5. Connect. The best businesses get close to people. They share and ask questions. They can even feel like friends. Again, human connection and community are part of what matters most for any business, including mine. If I can't be fully human with a client, and they can't be fully human with me, then we have a transactional relationship. You give me an assignment and some money, then you receive a story. This is okay, but great businesses are not transactional -- they seek to deepen and humanize relationships. I want long-term, sustainable, human interactions, not transactions. I'm not a vending machine where cash goes in and stories come out. Some writers might be fine with that, but I'm not (for long).

6. Have mentors and great examples. Running a business takes a clear vision of who you are and where you want to go. My favorite all-time entrepreneur is Yvon Chouinard, who founded outdoor apparel company Patagonia in Ventura, California. Chouinard loves the outdoors, especially rock climbing and surfing. As a young man, he'd been to Europe for rock climbing and noticed that the equipment and apparel was of higher quality there. So when he returned to California, he started making European-inspired equipment and apparel for rock climbers (he and his friends, at first), using European designs as his prototypes and accessing local materials.

Although he founded a billion dollar global business, Mr. Chouinard has never lost his deep connection to the outdoors. He still spends 5 months per year fishing in Wyoming, and encourages his California-based employees to surf whenever the waves are good, even on a Tuesday afternoon. When asked his secret to success on the NPR podcast "How I Built This," Chouinard responded "simplicity."

Patagonia is famous for putting employees first. They offer day care to employees, since 70 % of its workforce is women. They also allow autonomy to employees about how to do their jobs.

Mr. Chouinard believes in sustainability in all he does, even offering free repairs of the clothing and equipment he sells. He wants his customer to buy and use something for life, which is a strange business practice. Patagonia customers aren't just loyal to the brand, they almost define themselves by it. Chouinard's values, the ways he values the outdoors and people and the concept of sustainability, pervade everything Patagonia does, and his customers identify with these values in a powerful way that goes far beyond money. His employee love working at Patagonia too, unsurprisingly.

I'm still growing both my business and myself, and have a lot to learn. More than anything, I try not to judge my business by the balance sheet alone. Yes, I want to make money but I also want to discover, over time, more of the good things in myself and others. I want to express my creativity, to educate, inform, and help others, to set an example of caring. Success, as I define it, is the capacity to be fully yourself, which isn't as easy as it might sound.