I founded Lynxs Group in 1994 to develop all sorts of on-location airport facilities—cargo buildings, aircraft maintenance hangars, and the like. I loved every minute of it, but the truth of the matter is that there’s usually just one airport in each city. So, if I wanted to keep building airport properties, I had to leave my own backyard and search for new projects all over the world. Lots of being away from home, lots of trail dust. 

So, a few years ago, in addition to Lynxs, I felt the urge to try something different. 

I thought, "How about I try to do something a little closer to home, like right here in Austin, Texas?” After all, it seems like everybody else in the world is coming here to do a little real estate; maybe I should do some, too. 

One Sunday morning, while flipping through the Austin American-Statesman, I read a story of a man named Jesse Lunsford who seemed to be a wizard at finding underappreciated, urban core properties—reimagining them into beautiful, fun, and valuable locations. One of these locations was Rainey St., which became one of Austin's vibrant urban districts.

After reading about him, I took a chance, picked up the phone, and called him. To my surprise, he took my call!  

Over time, we became friends and business partners, going on to develop several other properties, all with unique histories and interesting potential—none of them having anything to do with airports.

One of our first ventures was at the corner of Chicon and MLK in east-central Austin. The first time Jesse showed me the building and the land, I thought it was one of the worst properties I had ever seen. The site consisted of one long and very poorly-maintained cinderblock structure housing a slipshod catering kitchen. The rest was an overgrown back patio which had clearly seen better days.

Jesse suggests we buy and do something with it. In what would become an established pattern, Jesse would suggest something, and I would shoot it down as "craziness." I nevertheless decided to go along with this particular craziness. 

What you see at 1814 MLK Drive today is a popular restaurant called Sour Duck. 

Very quaint, rustic, urban, and hip, with very, VERY good food. Most importantly, everybody, there seems to be having a great time.

Change the Narrative

Many opportunities and visions we decide to pursue are less about the decision itself, and more about changing the narrative surrounding how we view that decision—whether that’s changing the people you surround yourself with, your living situation, job, or investment strategy...even narratives about yourself.

Sometimes, we can lock ourselves in and hold ourselves back with our narratives. I learned from Jesse’s way of looking at opportunities that there can be a certain non-linearness; what was, does not dictate what will be. Somewhere in the skeleton of things might be a new story waiting to be told.

The Sour Duck team, which runs two other iconic Austin staples—Barley Swine and Odd Duck—saw something in this location too. They redefined the corner, how to best utilize their kitchen, and how they mix and serve the best cocktails in town. They redefined who their patrons are, what those customers want, and what surroundings make their patrons feel comfortable. 

At the time of opening, I’m pretty sure folks thought they were crazy, too.

That’s a theme when you start something new and different—laughter, fear, and questions of sanity are the first things to crop up when you are so bold as to strike out on your own and make a change. When you change your narrative, people will tell you, “you shouldn’t,” that “you’re crazy.” But that brings me to my first secret.

Secret #1: “If your dreams do not scare you, they are not big enough.”

Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, Former President of Liberia and the first elected female head of state in Africa, once famously said that. And I think that it applies here, too. 

I think we tend to lock ourselves in and hold ourselves back with the orthodoxy of whatever narrative we have packaged around a particular project, vision, or person. Then someone (perhaps yourself) comes along and challenges that orthodoxy—this creates uncertainty. That uncertainty is what makes people scared; it’s what makes them call you crazy. 

Secret #2: Redefine Yourself Fearlessly; Allow Yourself to Go Where That “Tiny Voice” Beckons.

Sour Duck is a great example of this narrative and a look at how my personal narrative changed. This was a professional leap for me, which few people bothered to endorse or understand. Ray Brimble is "this." Sour Duck is "that." To many, none of it made sense. On the surface, it didn’t make much sense to me either, but there was a tiny voice inside my head inviting me to head down a new and different path; one which might even challenge me to expand the narrative I had known about myself. 

Some would call this "vision." I am not so sure. The interesting thing about changing your narrative is that you sometimes don't see where you’ve ended up; at least, not until long after you’ve already arrived. 

I was vividly reminded of this while at the Sour Duck the other night. We were having a small, informal dinner to celebrate the good works of an organization called JUST.

JUST's mission is to teach women of color—many on the lower end of the socio-economic scale—skills to help them finance and run their own businesses. JUST markets itself as a micro-finance organization, but its superpower is in helping its clients change their own narratives. The JUST process asks these women to look at themselves differently; to gather confidence and respect for themselves, and others who are on the same journey. 

In the process, JUST also asks the rest of us to reconsider our own narratives about these women, their efforts in our community, and the entire narrative of who gets to start and run their own businesses. It’s JUST so crazy; the Sour Duck thing was just so crazy; transformation from one thing to another is just so crazy. But it’s all crazy great.

Secret #3: You CAN Start Again

Sometimes we choose; other times we are forced; and still other times we only discover that we’ve begun long after we are already well underway. But no matter how we start, sooner or later, we may end up with a new narrative because we CAN start again.

Wear your new narrative with pride. Listen for the bayings of those who will call you crazy. That's how you know you’re on the right path.