Perhaps the stars were aligned just so that week, but of the three consultancies invited to present, the first two started their presentations the exact same way… by challenging us with a nine-dot puzzle. Solving it required connecting each dot using four straight, continuous lines—without lifting the pen from the paper.

The first consultant seemed taken aback by our questions and passion toward solving it. Apparently he had come in expecting to present the puzzle, answer a few predictable questions, watch us make some failed attempts, and then give us the answer. Until that day, he had only presented to business executives who had little interest in solving visual puzzles—not graphic designers.

By using a very wide marker, all nine dots could be connected with only one line.

When I asked him if we could use one line rather than four, he just smiled. “If you can solve the puzzle using only one line, by all means, be my guest. Just make certain it’s a straight line… and don’t lift your pen.” Before I could respond, he added, “If you solve it with four lines, lunch is on me… solve it with one line and I’ll make certain you get a raise… and bonus, too,” then winked at the president of our firm.

When I explained that my solution required a very wide pen, he began shaking his head and then with a dismissive laugh said, “No… I’m afraid that would be cheating… you have to use a standard size pen.” Then he held his marker up for everyone to see before asking again, “Okay, are you ready for the answer?”

When we shook our heads, he seemed concerned. His concerns grew when a senior designer stood and presented another solution. Having folded his puzzle like an accordion, he carefully angled his marker and hit all nine dots in one pass.

Shaking his head once again the consultant announced, “I’m afraid you can’t fold the paper either… you must use four continuous straight lines without lifting the pen from the paper… and it must stay flat… no folding is allowed.”

Folding the paper didn't exactly solve the problem but it was an interesting direction.

By repositioning the dot, the puzzle could be solved in a number of ways.

As I stopped folding my paper to consider the newly established rules, the designer sitting behind me shared another solution. By carefully cutting out each dot and repositioning them on the paper, she not only solved the puzzle, but also did so without violating the established rules. Her solution also confirmed my suspicions… I really had smelled rubber cement.

Before she could expound on the merits of her solution… or before someone else could share another solution, the frazzled consultant grabbed his marker, drew four quick lines on the easel and announced, “To find the solution, you must… THINK OUTSIDE THE BOX!”

This is "the" answer the consultant expected.

You might imagine how the second presentation went over. What still eludes me is the number of business people back then that accepted this puzzle as some form of empirical evidence. What’s more preposterous: accepting that an executive with poor puzzle solving abilities can’t solve business problems… or that a consultant who solves the very puzzle he just presented, can? Maybe it’s a toss-up.

What I also found interesting was the similarities between the first two consultants. Each presented the puzzle as THE litmus test for business innovation… yet, ironically, both assumed that only one answer existed. Why couldn’t they let us explore more ideas or discuss the answers we proposed? Because they were really outside the box! Besides, if another solution existed, their presentation “theme” wouldn’t have worked. By trying to expose our imaginary boundaries, they were actually exposing their own.

It’s funny… they wanted to be perceived as innovators—cutting-edge problem solvers—but the more they repeated the phrase, “Think Outside the Box,” the clearer it became… they were anything but. I’ve often wondered how long it would have taken us to find this solution… more importantly, what other solutions and potential directions would we have discovered along the way?

Most people have seen The Wizard of Oz—at least once. It’s been playing since 1939. If you haven’t, you should consider doing so. For those who have seen it, reflect back to the scene where Dorothy, her little dog Toto, the Scarecrow, Cowardly Lion and the Tin Man are all standing before the great and powerful Wizard of Oz. As he blows fire and warns them not to incur his wrath, Toto casually walks over and pulls back a curtain to reveal that the intimidating Wizard of Oz is no more than a little man projecting a big image onto a screen, pushing buttons and yelling into a microphone.

Hoping he hadn’t been seen, the wizard quickly pulls the curtain closed and announces into the microphone, “Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.” But it’s too late. The truth had been exposed.

Over the years, I have met other people (experts) professing to have “the” answer, too. These modern day wizards often hide behind titles, organizations and use fancy argot to appear knowledgeable. But like Toto, it’s important to look past illusion (and clichés), pull back the curtain, and deal with reality. This is paramount to finding “real” solutions.

As promised, I was left alone and given total access to “be creative.” Staying focused and on task was difficult. The amount of material was vast and my mind wandered like a school kid in class. I was so hyper-focused on the subject matter, the assignment seemed meaningless.

At first I felt a little uncomfortable… like I shouldn’t be reading his personal notes, handling his guitars, or messing with his stuff… like his boots or blue jumpsuit from San Quentin! But then I realized Johnny kept all these things for a reason. Collectively, they represented him… his memories, thoughts and special moments on earth. Some were fragments… personal pieces of a complicated puzzle, clues from an unconventional life. Many of his notes, sketches and lyrics were scribbled out on random sheets of paper, crossed out, rewritten, edited, and often left unfinished. It was these pieces that I connected with most. The fragments… ideas he had worked on but never finished. The idea seeds… the work in progress… the unsolved mysteries that we all carry with us throughout our lives… hoping to someday find them a home.

It’s easy to focus on the tangible successes and failures in someone’s life… I guess that’s why it’s commonly done. But to me, those fragments tell a much better story… a real story about a person’s passionate struggle to understand and connect the dots. And in Johnny’s case, his random fragments revealed these things and more. Regardless of what history says, this much I know… aside from his legendary status, Johnny Cash was a sincere person who experienced many trials and tribulations. He worked hard and pushed himself to be his best. He dug down deep inside himself and was a truth seeker. He loved his wife, June, his fans and his god.

After my second day of shooting, the curator (who was also a good friend of Johnny’s), asked me to join him and his girlfriend for dinner. As you might guess, the conversation was centered largely on Johnny. I asked many questions and he shared many wonderful, personal and intimate stories about the man in black… they all confirmed my intuition. Then I shared my impressions about Johnny and showed some of the photographs I had taken. After complimenting my work, he smiled and said, “You connect with Johnny… he would have really liked you.” What more could be said? I’m sorry we never met in this lifetime… but in some mystical way, I feel we have.

One night over a glass of wine (or two), I asked, “Mario, before or during a race, do you ever think about the possibility of being seriously injured… or even dying?”

It was later explained to me that asking a professional race car driver such a question was inappropriate at best. Perhaps so, but Mario didn’t seem to mind. “I try not to think about it, Michael,” he responded.

I took another sip. “I understand, but isn’t it hard not to think about it at times?”

Then he looked at me and said in a most humble and sincere way, “I don’t fear death; I respect it… and I focus on winning.”

His answer triggered an “aha” moment. We all have obstacles in our lives and jobs… death and injury just happened to be a couple that Mario faced on a regular basis. You don’t jump into a swimming pool and focus on drowning… even though you know it’s possible. Mario focuses on winning… succeeding… period.

Then I asked him when he knew it was time to retire. After reflecting for a moment he responded, “That’s a much harder question. You never really know the perfect time, but it has less to do with your age and ability than many people believe… it has more to do with your purpose and passion.”

His answer resonated throughout my brain. It was Mario’s last racing season… and his words transcended my question. When purpose and passion are replaced with too much thinking and planning, we are no longer competing. Winners are driven by purpose and passion. You can’t pre-plan and over-think each turn and move you make… you need to follow your intuition and let purpose and passion drive you.

What’s driving you? If you’re faltering, check your purpose and passion and make some corrections. When these elements are in place, obstacles disappear and your goals are always within reach.