#434 You get to choose
What you spend your time on.
Who you spend your time with.
Who you listen to.
What you listen to.
Never forget, you get to choose.
What you spend your time on.
Who you spend your time with.
Who you listen to.
What you listen to.
Never forget, you get to choose.
Ernest Hemingway allegedly stopped his writing sessions in the middle of a sentence so he knew how to start his next session. He stopped writing, even if he could do more.
Julia Cameron teaches to write precisely three pages of stream-of-consciousness journaling a day. Stop journaling, even if you could do more.
I’ve gotten better results studying foreign languages 20 minutes a day for several months than rushing into a new language and studying it for 3 hours a day, then crashing and burning. I stop myself from learning, even if I could do more.
Because burnout and overindulgence stifle progress, and in the long run, moderation leads to more.
What would you like to become good at?
Why do you want to become good at this? Passion? Purpose? Impressing others?
Are you willing to spend a lot of time to become good at this?
Are you willing to give up other things to become good at this?
Are you making life harder for yourself by trying to become good at this?
Is that worth it?
…
The question that rules them all:
How easy was it to answer the questions above?
We all have the ability to decide what’s good for us when we take the time to reflect on it.
But we also overestimate our ability to decide what’s good for us in the moment.
Which means that we all need to be saved from ourselves.
How?
By deciding in advance.
I’m going to write, because I decided in advance that that’s good for me – even if in the moment, I’d rather do something else.
I’m going to eat those vegetables, because I decided in advance that that’s good for me – even if in the moment, I’d rather eat those fries.
You’re likely to encounter consistency challenges.
After all, nobody feels motivated every day.
Maybe you’ll have a day where you’re busy or not feeling great, and writing, running, or doing yoga, seems like the last thing you want to do.
Luckily, you don’t need to feel motivated to write one sentence.
You don’t even need to want to write to have words appear on the screen or paper.
You just need to be reminded that you want to be a writer.
And writers write, even if they don’t feel like it.
And so it goes for runners, yogis, meditators, athletes, crafstmen, lovers.
Unique value often lies in seemingly strange combinations.
The beekeeping lawyer.
The pro soccer player with an astrophysics degree.
The theologist waking up early every morning to go surfing.
The public servant spending their evenings performing at the local stand-up comedy bar.
The motorcycle repair shop owner writing philosophy books.
The chess champion with a Brazilian Ju-Jitsu black belt.
Societal pressure and expectations make such combinations unlikely. Out of the ordinary. Maybe even undesirable: an obstacle to conformity.
And if it’s undesirable, it becomes rare.
And here’s the twist: what’s rare usually becomes valuable.
Because there’s nothing incompatible about these combinations – in fact, the skills you practice may well complement each other in unique and valuable ways.
What could be an unexpected complement for your life?
Something you’re secretly interested in, but – according to society – doesn’t fit who you are (or who you’re supposed to be)?
The other day, I talked about changing your focus to change how you feel about the events in your day.
But something strange happened when I first had that realization.
It didn’t feel like a relief.
Do I even want that responsibility? To choose how events affect me?
After all, that would take away my right to complain about how poorly life treats me.
I couldn’t ascribe any successes or achievements to “sheer luck” anymore.
And wouldn’t it be silly to say I don’t deserve happiness, luck, or anything good if I knew I could change my focus and be lucky this very moment?
What a burden.
I’m still deciding if I am strong enough to carry it.
But one thing’s for sure: the days I have the presence of mind to direct my focus are the days I feel best.
I wonder if it’d be like that for you, too.
Maybe you could try it out? Even if it’s to indulge me.
See how it feels.
And let me know how it goes. I’m curious about you.