Start digging
I watched a lone figure at the beach this morning, metal detector in hand. A tourist, I figured - just like the five others I'd seen combing this exact stretch of sand throughout the summer. His detector swept back and forth in the early dawn light, its electronic beeping cutting through the silence while he searched where dozens of people had sat just yesterday.
What did he expect to find? Didn't he realize others had been here before? What treasure could possibly remain after so many searchers?
"Find anything good?" I called out, more to acknowledge his presence than from genuine curiosity. I didn't him to have success.
"Catch," he replied, tossing me a rusty coin. "You can keep it."
There I stood, holding a 30-year-old coin that had been barely hidden beneath the surface, untouched for decades despite the foot traffic above.
I catch myself falling into this same trap with ideas. I convince myself that everything worth thinking has already been thought. That my insights aren't worthwhile because surely millions have considered them before me. So I hesitate to start digging.
Don't get me wrong - I still believe hard work pays off. But watching that man reminded me that some treasures lie close to the surface, waiting for someone willing to have a look. The key isn't knowing where others have searched. The key is simply starting to dig.