Who is Brian Sano?
My "Why" Statement:
"To care for and celebrate others, so they can lead creative, cheerful, and meaningful lives."
A LONG TIME AGO, IN A GALAXY FAR FAR AWAY...
Ok, it wasn't that long ago. And not that far - just Albany, NY.
My adventures continued in Manhattan; Manchester, England ("We all follow United!"); Geneva, Switzerland; and Brooklyn, NY.
Now, I breathe moment to moment in Washington, DC.
HOW WOULD I DESCRIBE MYSELF?
Hopeless meditator. Curiously creative. Contemplative photographer. Basenji and Alaskian Klee Kai lover. Philosopher. Design Thinker. More Hermione than Harry; More John than Paul (on most days). Disco dancer. Foodie. Karaoke legend (think Bohemian Rhapsody). Listener. (Recovering) Lawyer - and recovering perfectionist. Executive/Leadership Coach. Espresso aficionado. Former America Ninja Warrior in training and squash (the sport) addict...when not injured.
MY SIX WORD MEMOIR
“He lived fully, knowing death neared.”
MY INSPIRATION
My wife (a bad-ass pilates teacher with MS). Dzogchen Ponlop Rinpoche. Susan David. Fred Rogers. Fredy Mercury. Mr. Miyagi. Simon Sinek. Frances Frei & Anne Morriss. The Buddha. Brené Brown. President Barrack Obama. Tony Hsieh. Susan Cain. Master Yoda. Amy Edmondson. Ed Catmull. Steve Jobs. Michael Wood and Julie DuBose. Charlie Bolden. David Kelley. Adam Grant. Harvey Milk. Edgar Schein. Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche. Michelle Obama. Sir Alex Ferguson. Bozoma Saint John. Jason Gay. Francesca Gino. Gianpiero Petriglieri. Sir Richard Branson. Tim Brown (with IDEO, not the Raiders - unless it's on Tecmo Bowl). Sara Blakely. Laszlo Bock. Julia Louis-Dreyfus. E.B. White. Mom and Dad.
And anyone who ever felt inspired to lead others.
MY AUTO-EPITAPH (c. 2017*)
A spark. A sudden glimpse. A breath of fresh air. Singing. Laughter. Tears. Smiles. Joie de vivre. Hugs. Lots of hugs.
These are some of the gifts he left us.
He lived each day as if it were his last. Finally, he was right.
He cared. He loved. Life. Others. The little things. Light bouncing off a toilet seat. Reflection in a windy puddle. The concert of rain dancing on wood. A ballerina's bent wrist relaxing in elegant space.
Utterly empty...completely awake.
Do you have time to stop and smell life's roses? Or even appreciate the dog shit? Beyond thought's flimsy veil? To see it, as it is?
Why fear death? "Space cannot be destroyed by space." Just remember to mind the gap.
So leap into love. Stay curious. Stay foolish. There's no better now. And there's no such thing as dying to be done.
It's all about the questions. Maybe one beats all:
How can you light up the universe?
*Don’t worry, I’m still alive (c. 2021)