Real life is where the action is, and you can’t put a price on personal contact. Oh, wait, you can.

At the Personal Democracy Forum 2010 conference in New York City, one woman stood up after the Philanthropy 2.0 breakout session and said, “Well, now I know the truth.” Wanjiru Kamau-Rutenberg  was attending as a Google Fellow, and something she heard gave  overwhelming sense of relief. A great mystery had been solved for her. 

“All this time, people say if you are doing good work and your grant application tells the story that you stand a chance just like everyone else,” she said. “Now I have finally heard someone say it – you have a better chance of getting a grant if you have a relationship with the grantmaker.” Yes, it’s true. Grantmakers are human beings, and they will naturally hear a proposal differently if it comes from someone who has already earned their trust in an ongoing relationship.

When people are new donors, they are sometimes hurt or disillusioned when someone from a nonprofit says they want to “get to know you better” and it turns out they only want to know how to get bigger donations. Well, that’s their job.  Get to know prospective donor-partners.  Find out what’s important to that potential donor and present opportunities to them that would have the most appeal from their point of view.

Donor cultivation is like seed cultivation. There’s a growing cycle. You can’t rush the stages of development. You have to wait for the right season to harvest. And there’s no substitute for the investment of time and a personal, hands-on approach. 

So Wanjiru now knows that no matter how high-quality one’s online efforts may be,  there’s no substitute for a personal, real-life connection. 

I could say I “knew” a lot of people at the PdF conference. But most of them are are mostly familiar to me as icons on Twitter. These relationships largely exist online. Something changes when I get to shake hands with these people in real life. There’s bonding, cementing, solidifying. I hugged a few people and I felt a true exchange of energy. That brief physical connection will provide some kind of fuel for our online relationship in the months to come.

It was a big week for real life. Last weekend a college graduation brought most of my closest kin together to celebrate.  We don’t all get together very often.  It’s so precious when we are in the same room at the same time – even moreso when it’s not for a funeral.

Before I went on sabbatical, most of my daily interactions took place online or on the phone. Now, I’ve upped the face time I spend with people I like, and I want to do more of that. The only way that will happen is if I plan for it, and the only way I can plan for it is to put it in my Outlook calendar.  There’s something amusing about that, isn’t there?  That I can’t have real life experiences without planning them electronically? 

The sabbatical itself required months of advance planning.  If I really intend to do something, I can’t just say “one of these days” or “someday.” I have to commit.

The philosopher Stephen Gaskin says “You can always tell what somebody really wants to do, because that’s what they’re doing.” 

What I really want to do right now is go hug my husband.  You can tell, because….

How important is it to you that somebody gets your little jokes? 

Depending on your knowledge of trivia, you might catch one of my little private chuckles here and there. Some people who read what I write are very quick to pick up on an obscure cultural allusion or a toothache-inducing play on words.  Different jokes for different folks.

My brother gets the Dennis Miller  award for lifetime achievement.  He’s been on my joke-and-trivia wavelength forever. Just the other day, he wrote to buzz in with I Can Dream About You ,” Dan Hartman. Yes, that’s what I was referencing when I titled a post  “I Don’t See Under My Feet.” (The post was about moving sidewalks. If you don’t know the lyrics, you don’t get the reference.)

Usually somebody slips me a private email when they think they’ve found one of my Easter eggs . Nobody mentioned the recent reference to a Dolly Parton lyric, but that one was VERY obscure.  The title “$#!+ My Mom Says” was a double twist.  I’ve written here before about “Sh*t My Dad Says ,” a gut-bustingly funny Twitter account that got turned into a television series  for CBS starring William Shatner .  Days ago, CBS announced that it would be “$#*+” and not “$#!+ .”  So I was goofing on that too. (Just creating that link, I read some of the Sh*t My Dad Says twitstream. It made me laugh so hard I’m crying and convulsing.)

Don’t start looking for these things – I don’t consistently include a gag.  And you can see the payoff isn’t worth working for.  If you get it, you get it.  And it’s supposed to work even if you don’t get the little referencey joke. (Well, maybe “Shell Scrip” didn’t work yesterday except for computer programmers.)

Anyway, you don’t have to laugh. I amuse myself. And I’m here all week.

The occasion was an invitation-only event, and I had my BlackBerry out to live-tweet some of the day’s speakers. But I had begun taking handwritten notes in a hard-cover blank book, a recent gift.  I was using a mechanical pencil with a satisfying feel.  I decided it would be more pleasurable to continue using paper-and-pencil technology, so no tweeting.

Later, I was seated next to an executive from the presenting sponsor’s company.  I mentioned that I had considered live-tweeting but didn’t, and his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.  It had never occurred to planners at this staid institution, after over a hundred years of existence, that anyone would consider such a thing. 

The executive’s cheeks pinkened and he seemed sad that times were changing in a way that, he had to admit, now require a social media policy.  He resolved to bring it up with his collegues.  At the same time, he hoped that it might be a moot point.

He reasoned that by the time people are old enough or mature enough to want to attend events like this, that they will have mastered the subtle art of discretion and learned to treasure their privacy.  He seems to believe, or to want to believe, that certain social customs will persist despite the tech revolution.  He thinks some things will remain private because, well, they should.

But will his belief be shared by the  generations growing up in a world of online profiles and naked transparency? Today’s young people lifecast as naturally as they breathe.  Will they revert to a hunger for privacy at a certain chronological age or stage of human development, as the executive thinks they will?  Even if they crave privacy in the future, will they be able to find any?  Privacy is being murdered, day by day, tweet by tweet, TMZ report by EZ Pass reader by credit card statement.

There are some aspects of the loss of privacy that trouble me deeply, but I know those reactions are based on information which could be over 50 years old. So I examine my beliefs, performing system checks to see if the software needs an upgrade.  What is the relatonship between solitude, which I cherish, and privacy? What is the difference between privacy and secrecy?  Privacy and modesty?  Modesty and discretion? Discretion and confidentiality?

Back to the executive, gobsmacked by the concept of someone live-tweeting his private event. How could he be so surprised in 2010 that someone might have used social media tools to share what we were learning? (And am I being so last-century by not disclosing the name of the company, the executive, the topic and the speakers?  Or am I just being polite in an age of TMI?)

Transparency and openness are in vogue and in demand.  I know I behave differently when I’m being observed. Governments, corporations, organizations and institutions do too. But isn’t there some value for society in maintaining at least a few off-the-record zones?

That’s my meditation for the day:  How different would I be in this moment if I knew my behavior was being recorded or broadcast, and am I mindful of where my desire for privacy is really a desire to be away from judgment?

During my sabbatical I am looking for sources of delight, and I can always count on Maria Popova  to provide a plethora.

I can’t remember how or where I first heard of her.  Maybe it was Twitter , maybe it was through her creation called TEDify in which she does a mashup  of TED Talks.  Then I was wowed by her  BrainPickings.  I fell in digital love with her. 

When she asked the Twitterverse to help her get to TEDGlobal2009,  I became one of her many contributors. I met her IRL  at Oxford.

Those of us who crowdfunded her attendance did her an inadvertent disservice: by going as a fully-paid TEDster, she was automatically disqualified from applying to be a TED Fellow.  That means she will probably be crowdfunding TEDGlobal2010.

Perhaps that was part of the inspiration behind her excellent list of crowdfunding sites.  (The page takes awhile to load. Don’t be frightened by the seemingly unreadable colors. Wait. When it’s done the copy will be black type on white background. )

Why is it worth clicking on that link and waiting?  Maria did all the work of compiling  websites where ordinary people can raise tons of money for their personal projects. If your school, your place of worship, your artistic kid, or you are trying to raise money, this is the best list of resources I’ve seen.

When you take a dip in Maria’s ocean of information, perhaps you will jump in and subscribe to BrainPickings (and I heartily encourage you to join me as a financial supporter). 

The magic of this connection, and the untold hours of joy I’ve experienced through Maria’s work, are modern miracles to me.  When I was a kid, a long distance telephone call was a Major Big Deal.  Today a Bulgarian woman can reach around the world, change her destiny, and affect countless other lives, all with a click.

And now, with a click, I share her with you.

Back on Day 14,  I mentioned that my coach, Renee Freedman, does not promise to get back to people immediately.  She lets her correspondents and callers know that she will respond within two business days. 

I have been known for Instant Response, but I gave that up during sabbatical year.  And maybe forever.

Thanks to Renee, I no longer feel guilty when I don’t get right back to people.  Thanks to Chris Brogan, I have something to send to anyone who thinks I’m not responsive enough.

If I haven’t gotten back to you quickly enough, I’m sorry, but, well, here, read this.

When I posted that link on Twitter and Facebook yesterday, Gregory Fisher commented that in days gone by, only the elite could be reached any time. They were the ones who had access to beepers, cell phones, and other tech luxuries that kept them connected.  Today, he notes, even the poorest people have cell phones and can be reached any time. Now, the more important the person, the harder it is to connect with them quickly. 

That’s true, isn’t it?  So when I take my sweet time answering email, it’s not because I’m lazy, distracted, or on sabbatical (although I’m all of those!).  It’s because I’m important.  To myself.

Rather than taking the time to carefully craft sentences for this format, I have been Tweeting away, 140 characters at a time. Perhaps you’ve seen me sailing along in the Twitstream where I’ve been posting without pressure, but not without daily thoughts about this site.

Blogger Lisa Barone (Outspoken Media, subscribe to her feed immediately if you care about social media) gave instructions for a blog production schedule quite some time ago. “Yeah, I need to do that,” I thought, and continued to not do that.

Maybe I’ll set up a production schedule, even though that would be awfully reminiscent of  “deadlines,” which nagged me during my newspaper career. Kissing writing-on-deadline goodbye is one of the benefits of not having a corporate job.

Today a man named Jackson Thomas, @TexasJackFlash on Twitter, started following me. (If you aren’t familiar with Twitter, don’t worry. I’m not being stalked.) When I checked out his profile, I found this gem: “I’m in a 1 Step program. Every day I take one step toward my dream.”

So today I’m joining the One Step Program, and taking one step back toward posting here. I refuse to go on a guilt trip – what would be the point? This is not my job, and I do appreciate the many kind prods and earnest requests to get back to this format. So here I am, one step at a time.

What One Step will YOU take today?

I confess that I fell into the Twitter trap. It’s just so easy to post in 140-character increments that I temporarily abandoned the more labor-intensive and time-consuming process of posting here.  As I wrote to Diana DiMenna (more about her in a later post), “I’ve Fallen, But I’m About To Get Up.” I cannot allow myself to lose the ability to write in paragraphs, to concentrate on complex thoughts.

If a senior citizen such as moi can be seduced by the Twitstream, it’s no wonder young brains are being completely rewired to think in tiny bites of data. If you have no idea what Twitter is, just Google. Hildy Gottlieb did a great job of  ”Explaining Twitter to Grandma Rose” http://hildygottlieb.com/2009/03/09/explaining-twitter-to-grandma-rose/ . (Coincidentally, that’s what the grandkids call my mother. But  I don’t think even Hildy could explain Twitter to our Grandma Rose.)

Here’s what frightened me back to the longer form: I followed a link on Twitter to a very good explanation of a complex issue. I simply couldn’t concentrate on it. It was toooooo looooong.  I felt like…a twit.

Confession: Elizabeth Gilbert’s bestselling Eat Pray Love did not engender a desire to befriend the author. When I saw she would be presenting at TED, I thought it was the one talk I’d be willing to miss. Good thing I don’t always listen to myself.  Her talk was a true highlight, and you can see it for yourself because it’s already up on the TED website.

You should see it if you are a creative person. Gilbert’s talk underscores one of my big life lessons. For years, I’ve been telling my clients that they need not feel bad or beat themselves up if they can’t get it together to write that book, start that company, or produce whatever creative output they feel they “should.”  I’ve learned that ideas come to more than one person at a time, demanding life. If you can’t get the idea out there, don’t worry – it’s nagging someone else, too.  Somebody will do it. You’re not the only one the idea is pestering.

So the pressure’s off. If an idea’s time has come, the idea will find at least one, and possibly many, humans through which to be born. You don’t have to do it – you’re off the hook. (Don’t say you weren’t warned, though. How will you feel when you see “your” idea with someone else’s name on it?)

And the pressure’s off me, too. I don’t have to translate that entire pad full of TED notes for you. Ethan Zuckerman’s contemporaneous notes are already published. The TED Blog and other bloggers and Tweeters (Laurel Touby’s were among my faves – disclosure, I love her) did a fantastic job of sharing the experience live.

There is one thing all those others can’t do: be me. Same for you. So if you ever do get around to following through with that idea, the expression of it will be uniquely yours. What is the one step you can take to move it forward today?