The Beads Were Just the Beginning

I was under 10 years old the first time I launched something that resembled a business. It didn’t have a name. It didn’t have investors. It had… beads. Mardi Gras beads. And a trash bag.

In New Orleans, Mardi Gras isn’t just a day—it’s a season. A rhythm. A way of life. If you grow up there, you grow up on the sides of parades, arms outstretched, catching beads, cups, stuffed animals—whatever flies from the floats.

But one year, I noticed something different. Something that sparked curiosity. After every parade, the streets were littered with beads—beads that had just been fought over seconds earlier. Beads that, for most people, lost their value the moment the parade ended.

But I started to wonder: What if they weren’t worthless? What if they were just in the wrong place?

That’s how it began.

Armed with a trash bag and way too much confidence, I convinced my mom, my dad, and my little brother to help me collect as many beads as we could from the streets after each parade. We brought them home, sorted them, bagged them… and I listed them on eBay… To everyone’s surprise (except mine) people bought them.

And not just in New Orleans. Orders came in from all over the country. People hosting Mardi Gras-themed events, schools, families planning parties in cities that had never smelled king cake or heard a brass band live.

What had seemed ordinary and completely normal to me, turned out to be special to someone else.

That experience taught me something I’ve never forgotten:
There’s always a market, even for your wildest ideas.

What I didn’t realize then, but see clearly now, is how that moment shaped the way I approach the work I do today. When you’re a child, everything is new. Everything is strange. Everything has the potential to be magical, or meaningful, or misunderstood. Children don’t see “waste”; they see possibility. They don’t see a gap in the market; they just wonder, what if?

This mindset is often called “beginner’s mind”—a way of approaching the world with openness, curiosity, and a willingness to be surprised. It’s the opposite of cynicism or expertise for the sake of control. Children live in a beginner’s mind naturally, but as adults, we have to choose it. When we do, we’re more likely to take creative risks, see potential in the overlooked, and invite collaboration. That small kid with a trash bag just didn’t know any better than to try.

Somewhere along the way, we learn to hesitate. We learn to seek permission. We convince ourselves that ideas need to be polished, realistic, or proven before we share them with the world. But that younger version of me didn’t know any of that. He just tried. He didn’t do it alone. He asked for help.

And that mattered just as much as the idea itself.

Looking back, what moves me the most isn’t the sales or the “entrepreneurship” part. It’s the fact that my family showed up for me. They didn’t laugh at the idea. They helped me carry bags, rinse beads, and figure out how to pack up shipments for strangers in cities we’d never been to.

That was my first network. My first team. And honestly, it’s still the model I use today.

I’ve learned that you don’t need a huge budget or a fancy title to build something that matters. But you do need people. People who believe in you. People who’ll walk beside you while you try to figure it out. People who remind you that what you see and what you feel, is worth pursuing.

I think a lot about the women and men who are launching nonprofits for the first time right now. Founders working out of their kitchens. Juggling day jobs. Figuring out the difference between a CRM and a Google Doc. Trying to lead with purpose… and feeling completely overwhelmed.

If that’s you, I just want to say this:

You’re not crazy.

You don’t need to wait until everything is perfect.

And no, you’re not too small to make a real impact.

The idea that keeps you up at night, the one that no one seems to “get”? That might be your Mardi Gras beads.

It might look ordinary in your hands, but extraordinary in someone else’s life.

The hustle doesn’t always start with strategy. Sometimes, it starts with a question. A nudge. A wild thought you can’t let go of.

If you’ve got that, and the courage to follow it…

The rest will come.

Just don’t forget to bring your trash bag.

And your people.

Thank you for being part of this journey.
This is where transformation begins.

Until next week,

Darrin.