Advertising Yoga.

I should, but I don't do yoga.

I'm about as flexible as the Washington Monument.

And I'm fearful that if I ever got on the floor to work out, I'd never again get up.

I can see myself in a cheap DRTV commercial. "Help! I've downward dogged and I can't get up."

All that posited, I have a simple advertising yoga exercise for you.

An exercise none of the holding company plutocrats can do. Much less understand.

It's simple.

And if it doesn't realign your chakra, it may at its very least foist some thought into your noggin.

Stand up straight. Feet about shoulder's width apart. Balance. Steady. Breathe deep.

Now raise one of your arms over your head. Right or left, it doesn't matter. 

Raise it straight over your head as if you're holding onto a strap on the #6 line during rush-hour.

Next, picture an imaginary marker or crayon or grease pencil. Choose your favorite color. Mine is aqua, like the Caribbean sea. Inviting like Grace Kelly's eyes, above.

Now draw a line. Starting mid-chest.

From your heart. To your head. To your hand.

Heart. Head. Hand.

There you have it.

Advertising Yoga.

Since humankind decided to buck the quadruped trend of almost every other animal on our dying planet and become bipedal, almost all successful work, almost all the work that gives our species meaning was the product of the through-line you've just drawn from your heart to your head to your hand.

That through-line is how work works.

The love in your heart, the seeing of your brain, the skill in your hands.

They have to work together, to choreograph like a giant celestial orgy.

The modern world refuses to understand this.

The modern holding company would be baffled by the notion.

They're more "pick one" affairs.

There are the thinkers. And the doers. And the decorators. They hardly, and not just in the WFH-era, are ever even in the same room.

As an industry, we've allowed that to happen. And now consultants are eating advertising's lunch. (It wasn't even a very good lunch to begin with. Think Tad's steaks. All gristle, no meat.)

Creative success is most-often contingent on employing all three--heart, head, hand.

Smart, moving, crafted.

I've worked with a number of geniuses in my life. Steve Hayden. Chris Wall. Shelly Lazarus. Mike Tesch. Errol Morris. Joe Pytka. My Therapist. My daughters. My wife. Hector Quesadilla, my Mexican Baseball League Manager. Many I'm right now forgetting.

They've all brought their hearts, their heads, and their hands to bear in their work.

Put love in their work. 

Put smart in their work.

Put skill in their work.

You can't care just about one. Heart without head is just design. Head without heart is just logic. Either without hand is missing humanity and magic.

In fact, to be picayune about this, I don't truly trust creative people who don't have ink on their hands.

Out of every worthless lump of clay, god has made a man today.

Out of every little squib of ink, god has helped me craft and think.

Most agencies have a complicated and patent-pending process they ™-ed the shit out of to show their prospect, clients and the world how different and thoughtful they are.

They're all Rococo.

Beautiful. Ornate. Complicated.

They make the Antiseptic souls of senior management feel special and specialized.

"Our proprietary process ensures maximum ensurance to the propietariness of the procession of our proprietary process."

Fine.

You go your way.

I'll go mine.

Connecting the three vital organs of being a human.

Your heart, your head, your hands.

Class over.

Now, don't forget to wipe down your mat.