Primal Cues and Entrepreneurship
I was 14 years old, staying at my family’s condo in the mountains of New Hampshire. I remember being woken up that morning by my Aunt Peggy. Alarm bells went off in my mind — what was Peggy doing there? She didn’t live anywhere nearby. For her to be there, something had to be seriously wrong.
“Bobby, I’m so sorry, but your dad’s had a heart attack.”
If you’ve ever received shocking news first thing in the morning, you probably remember the experience vividly. There’s that jolt of adrenaline as your body launches into fight-or-flight mode.
As it turns out, moments like this can have a deeper, more lasting impact than we realize. In The Talent Code, author Dan Coyle explores the mysterious spark that drives extraordinary achievement. A central concept in his section on “Ignition” is that human motivation often begins with primal cues—deep emotional signals that compel us to act. Among the most potent of these cues is the experience of early hardship, which sends a life-defining message: “You are not safe… better get busy.”
When I read this, it hit me like a ton of bricks. Never had a book so clearly explained something I knew to be true about myself but had never fully understood. That moment in my life—waking up to news of my dad’s heart attack—was pivotal. And yet, I’d never fully appreciated how deeply it shaped me.
Listening to this section of the book while driving, I began to see how many of my life’s decisions, actions, and even worldview could be traced back to that one moment in the White Mountains. My path toward entrepreneurship had begun.
The Message That Changed Everything
My family was fortunate—although my dad’s heart attack was severe, he survived. But the motivational energy and focus I gained from that event have fueled much of what I’ve accomplished in life. It wasn’t just a wake-up call; it was a life-altering realization: the world is unpredictable, and nothing is guaranteed. That message has stayed with me, quietly pushing me forward.
Reflecting on this experience, I think the word “primal” is the key to understanding it. The limbic system—the part of our brain responsible for the fight-or-flight response—doesn’t communicate in words or logic. It operates in feelings and impulses, issuing subtle but persistent reminders:
“Your time on this planet is limited, and nothing is guaranteed. Success and perhaps even survival will only occur if you act now, stay focused, and make it happen.”
This primal energy doesn’t announce itself in bold declarations, but it’s always there, just beneath the surface. It’s a quiet, insistent whisper: “Better get busy.”
Entrepreneurship: The Perfect Outlet for Primal Energy
It’s no coincidence that this primal energy often pushes people toward entrepreneurship. What better arena to channel the belief that success is something you create through focused effort, risk-taking, and resilience?
Entrepreneurship demands that you bet on yourself, take control of your destiny, and thrive under uncertainty. For those shaped by early hardships, the fear of pas taking the leap often outweighs the fear of risk itself. That was certainly true for me. When we first launched our business, the greater risk wasn’t failing; it was staying stuck in my first career path and never taking the chance.
The primal cue—“The world is not safe”—had already stripped away the illusion of security. In its place, it instilled a powerful drive to act, adapt, and take ownership of my future.
Turning Pain Into Power
The message of The Talent Code is clear: early challenges, while painful, can ignite extraordinary motivation. When life sends the cue “You are not safe,” some individuals transform that hardship into fuel—a power source that builds resilience, sharpens focus, and enables the kind of bold action needed to achieve great things.
Far from being a disadvantage, adversity becomes one of their greatest assets, a secret ingredient in their recipe for success.
Gratitude and Perspective
Today, my dad and I talk at least a few times a week. He’s been there for me every step of the way, and for that, I feel doubly blessed.
But the message from that day in New Hampshire has never left me: time is short, nothing is guaranteed, and the only way forward is to act.
And with that, if you’ll excuse me—I’ve got a ton of things to do. Better get busy!
