Do you really want to write a book? Or do you actually want to dream about writing a book?
Do you really want to drop everything and move to a sea-side town? Or do you want to dream about dropping everything and move to a sea-side town?
Both are fine. Both can be fulfilling, because often, having a dream is enough.
But both are not the same.
Only you will know if it’s the dream that makes you happy, or the action you want to take.
In a podcast segment about practicing Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu,Tim Ferris and Joshua Waitzkin discuss a principle for managing expectations they call:
“The first rep doesn’t count.”
Tim Ferris, Josh Waitzkin: https://tim.blog/wp-content/uploads/2018/08/148-josh-waitzkin.pdf
In other words: when performing a move for the first time, your body and mind need to get used to it. Gradually,you’ll get better – and the more aware you are of your body, the faster you’ll make progress – but judging someone on their first attempt doesn’t say much about their future potential.
This holds true for many skills in life, like starting a daily publishing habit.
Publishing a post or a video for the first time always feels funny (and often frightening). At this stage, judgment or feedback is futile. It’s all about jumping the hurdle of getting started
Publish five times, you’re ready to get some feedback (both from yourself and from others)…
Publish for the fiftieth time, and you’re well on your way to turn it into a habit… and fly.
So whenever I start something new, I manage my expectations by repeating to myself:
The first time feels funny. The fiftieth time I fly.
And for bonus points: What would it feel like the 500th time?
If I don’t write the post I intended to write, I actively avoid the desired result of my writing.
If I don’t do the workout I intended to do, I actively avoid the desired result of my workout (being in better shape, running a new PR,…)
If I don’t have the difficult conversation I intended to have, I actively avoid the desired result of that conversation.
Inaction is not the lack of action.
Inaction is taking active action to avoid working towards the result you desire.
The real question, then, is:
Why do I actively avoid working toward a desired result?
Am I worried that even if I write daily, I’ll never become a skilled writer?
Am I worried I won’t enjoy writing anymore if I ever get recognition?
Am I worried that writing every day will turn me into a skilled writer, but being a professional writer won’t be fulfilling?
P.S. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that I only have a limited repertoire of examples in this newsletter, my friend
I trust you to apply the insight to your situation.
And maybe, when you’re pondering the question above, you’ll come to the same conclusion as me:
That more often than not, I’m more interested in the comfort of “wanting” something I don’t have than in “taking action to get something.”
Changes too small to notice today become impossible to ignore when they stack up – as long as you take the time to look back.
Writing this post today doesn’t feel different than the one I wrote yesterday. But when I think about the first daily post I wrote two months ago… it’s a different game.
I wonder what it’ll feel like in 600 days.
Is there anything that changed for you in the past months, without you even noticing?
Not believing in something doesn’t make it impossible.
Rejecting something doesn’t make it impossible.
Not having experienced something doesn’t make it impossible.
You don’t know what’s possible.
You don’t know what’s possible for you.
And the sooner you accept that, the more will suddenly be possible.
First, you write. Then you become a writer.
First, you run. Then you become a runner.
First, you set boundaries. Then you become good at setting boundaries.
But before all that comes the decision to write. To run. To set boundaries.
Because you’re dissatisfied with the past and say never again.
Because you’re filled with excitement about a future vision.
Because you know you’re ready to make the change.
You’ll know when it’s time, my friend.
Thinking hard doesn’t make the pressure of “finding something to write about” go away.
Writing does.
