The Mochi community is about self-actualization and goals. It started as one person in a place where there were none.

I once worked for a company that thought it was a DAO. It walked like a DAO, talked like a DAO, but in the end was not a DAO.

It was a DAO in the sense that no one told you what to do. Work on whatever, whenever. Just pump the price of ETH. You double-fisted two, sometimes three projects a time, then flexed for the meta-org if you were an ex-corporate gigachad. You taught organizational design. You coached the company softball team. You ran train on clueless Wall Street types that had never been to Bushwick. The freedom was intoxicating; hot air to a big balloon. I watched the company go from 30 to 1,200 in three years.

We resisted any structure that remotely resembled a triangle. Triangles = hierarchy, and hierarchy bad. Give everyone a salary, but no one gets a title. No managers, no bosses. They paid me to think this way.

We fancied ourselves architects building organizations of the future. Architects need building blocks, so we used circles instead. Circular metaphors are great because they look flat from above. Round trojan horses if you think in three dimensions.

The way you got things done was you knew the founder, Jim. You said Jim, I need money. If Jim liked you, he gave you some. Jim’s time was slim when I joined around 30, so you can imagine how tight it was when the body count peaked. Game theory told you to stay close to Jim’s circle; the only way to survive once consultants come knocking.

I was a happy little balloon until I hit a glass ceiling. I was liked, but sort of drifted from Jim’s circle by year 3. It was clear I wasn’t going anywhere with the circle I was in, so I cut ties and floated off into the darkness all alone. Didn’t know what I’d do next, but I was “intrinsically” motivated. I would simply find a new project, or will one into existence.

You’re right until you’re wrong. This is something you need to learn. Soon, I was skipping townhalls and calling everything “work” from home. Whatever intrinsic meant was starting to wilt like a neglected houseplant. An ambient state of decay without a project to call my own.

Had to find a way to stay motivated. If I didn’t, I was done for. And the only thing motivating me was writing to myself.

I care a lot what people think. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t write. Something I learned from reading Wikipedia is we act different when we’re seen. We get nervous, perk up when someone else is in the room. Happens to electrons even though they don’t have nerves. So I started posting writing where I thought that I’d be seen. Give my ego a little boost. Sounds dumb but it worked.

In almost no time at all, I was the most read person in the company. It was noxious and addictive. Nicotine to my ego. Read receipts were coke drips to my feeble little rat brain. Sort of turned me into a terrorist. A transparency insurgent. This one time I was bored so I hacked the company printer. Sent a ransom note to the whole company promoting my new blog.

Things work until they don’t. That’s another thing you learn. Busy people don’t read, and if no one reads it’s over. Cryptokitties, Coinmarketcap - whatever it was wasn’t me. I started to feel isolated. The opposite of what I needed.

So I did what any sane person does and reached out to my readers. And to my surprise and utter horror, they were lost just like me. Young. Fresh out of college. Working on ten things at once. If you learn anything from doing nothing, it’s the same bloody thing.

Before you save the world, you need to solve your own problems. We all needed accountability, so I stuck us onto teams.

Pick any goal, I told them. Send ETH to commit.

It was just me and a spreadsheet. That’s how it all started.

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