Those we class as "successful" in life hold a magnificent secret.
They don't teach you this secret in school— yet it's one of the most vital tools which make people flourish.
Almost all of the elite, wealthy and successful amongst us possess a hidden talent: the ability to turn sh*t into gold.
Yes, you read that correctly.
I knew of this secret since I was roughly 13 years of age. One time, on my morning walk to school, I noticed a lump of dog litter smack bang in the middle of the pavement.
Two men were walking towards me, one was neatly shaven, adorned with a silk-like suit and wielding an nondescript briefcase in his right hand. Let's call him Mr.Green.
The man just in front of him was dressed neatly; but it was clear he wasn't as affluent as his counterpart two metres behind him. We'll call this gentleman Mr.Blue.
Unfortunately for Mr.Blue, his right foot sank into the dog feces, leaving a cast-like footprint in it. Upon noticing what had happened, his expression quickly morphed into that of a furious beast.
Just behind him, Mr.Green was standing tall, walking swiftly. He looked like a man on a mission; his briefcase cutting through the wind in his left hand and his phone tightly pressed against his ear with his right hand.
It was clear he was too distracted to notice what had just taken place.
Just like Mr.Blue, our sharply dressed friend Mr.Green stomped into the feces and slid sideways, as if he had stepped into a patch of black ice.
Alas, both victims of the slippery turd stopped to inspect their soles.
Mr.Blue erupted into a fit of rage, causing a scene: "Now my F*cking shoes are ruined, I just got this pair. And best of all, they're my only God damn pair. I hope that dog gets a smack of a truck!"
In contrast, while dissatisfied with the situation, Mr.Green remained level-headed.
"Well that's a shame" sighed Mr.Green
Turning to Mr.Blue, he placed his hand on his shoulder:
"You know, there's a way to transform this stuff into gold bricks. Maybe it's not so bad after all".
Perplexed, Mr.Blue's eyes narrowed and his face lit up bright red:
"Gold? Are you stupid? It's dog shit—not the elixir of life. Don't be so daft!"
Mr.Green glanced at the floor, as if he felt sympathy for his counterpart's ignorance.
"It's not easy to do, it takes practice. But I'm not kidding, it's a reason why I'm so well-off".
"Nonsense, get away from me you freakshow" screamed Mr.Blue, as he walked off with a squish in his step.
Upon returning home, Mr.Blue left a trail of the mess around the house. His wife, kids and even the dog stepped through it. The night ended in shouting and slammed doors, in which his two young daughters witnessed.
Later that week, Mr.Blue donned a pair of flip-flops as he walked the same path.
Walking towards him was Mr.Green.
Mr.Blue stopped Mr.Green in his tracks
"How's turning shit into gold turning out for ya?" He said sarcastically.
"Although unpleasant, that experience led to the creation of these" he said, as he nodded down toward his new set of peculiar shoes.
"These are a unique pair of shoes, with a self-cleaning mechanism installed within the soles. It's never been done before, and I'm actually on my way to sit down with Nike. So if you'll excuse me" replied Mr.Green as he hurriedly slid past Mr.Blue.
Staring into space, Mr.Blue had a flash of realisation: Most people curse the mess. The rare few build empires on it.
In life, many of us resemble Mr.Blue. The rare few however, learned that shit is common. It can be found anywhere. And you will eventually step in it.
As a result, the Mr.Greens of the world have developed themselves the rarest machine of all: Put shit in one side, and gold flows out the other.
They don't teach you this secret in school— yet it's one of the most vital tools which make people flourish.
Almost all of the elite, wealthy and successful amongst us possess a hidden talent: the ability to turn sh*t into gold.
Yes, you read that correctly.
I knew of this secret since I was roughly 13 years of age. One time, on my morning walk to school, I noticed a lump of dog litter smack bang in the middle of the pavement.
Two men were walking towards me, one was neatly shaven, adorned with a silk-like suit and wielding an nondescript briefcase in his right hand. Let's call him Mr.Green.
The man just in front of him was dressed neatly; but it was clear he wasn't as affluent as his counterpart two metres behind him. We'll call this gentleman Mr.Blue.
Unfortunately for Mr.Blue, his right foot sank into the dog feces, leaving a cast-like footprint in it. Upon noticing what had happened, his expression quickly morphed into that of a furious beast.
Just behind him, Mr.Green was standing tall, walking swiftly. He looked like a man on a mission; his briefcase cutting through the wind in his left hand and his phone tightly pressed against his ear with his right hand.
It was clear he was too distracted to notice what had just taken place.
Just like Mr.Blue, our sharply dressed friend Mr.Green stomped into the feces and slid sideways, as if he had stepped into a patch of black ice.
Alas, both victims of the slippery turd stopped to inspect their soles.
Mr.Blue erupted into a fit of rage, causing a scene: "Now my F*cking shoes are ruined, I just got this pair. And best of all, they're my only God damn pair. I hope that dog gets a smack of a truck!"
In contrast, while dissatisfied with the situation, Mr.Green remained level-headed.
"Well that's a shame" sighed Mr.Green
Turning to Mr.Blue, he placed his hand on his shoulder:
"You know, there's a way to transform this stuff into gold bricks. Maybe it's not so bad after all".
Perplexed, Mr.Blue's eyes narrowed and his face lit up bright red:
"Gold? Are you stupid? It's dog shit—not the elixir of life. Don't be so daft!"
Mr.Green glanced at the floor, as if he felt sympathy for his counterpart's ignorance.
"It's not easy to do, it takes practice. But I'm not kidding, it's a reason why I'm so well-off".
"Nonsense, get away from me you freakshow" screamed Mr.Blue, as he walked off with a squish in his step.
Upon returning home, Mr.Blue left a trail of the mess around the house. His wife, kids and even the dog stepped through it. The night ended in shouting and slammed doors, in which his two young daughters witnessed.
Later that week, Mr.Blue donned a pair of flip-flops as he walked the same path.
Walking towards him was Mr.Green.
Mr.Blue stopped Mr.Green in his tracks
"How's turning shit into gold turning out for ya?" He said sarcastically.
"Although unpleasant, that experience led to the creation of these" he said, as he nodded down toward his new set of peculiar shoes.
"These are a unique pair of shoes, with a self-cleaning mechanism installed within the soles. It's never been done before, and I'm actually on my way to sit down with Nike. So if you'll excuse me" replied Mr.Green as he hurriedly slid past Mr.Blue.
Staring into space, Mr.Blue had a flash of realisation: Most people curse the mess. The rare few build empires on it.
In life, many of us resemble Mr.Blue. The rare few however, learned that shit is common. It can be found anywhere. And you will eventually step in it.
As a result, the Mr.Greens of the world have developed themselves the rarest machine of all: Put shit in one side, and gold flows out the other.
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