Art of Learning

I commit to taking a cold shower. To publish a daily blog post. To do a yoga class, because these actions contribute to my vision for who I want to be.

I commit, despite the knowledge that when the time has come, right before I turn the shower tap to cold, I won’t want to take a cold shower.

That right before I start writing an article, my mind will throw a million distractios at me.

That right before my yoga workout, my mind will start negotiating with itself, coming up with reasons why I’d better do something else.

“Today it’s cold outside, what if I start tomorrow?”
“I don’t feel like it today, maybe I’ll just write two articles tomorrow?”
“{{insert any excuse my mind makes up to avoid short-term discomfort}}

But now is not the time to negotiate.

Do I choose the long-term pain of regret over the short-term pain of discipline?

Do I choose to cultivate a procrastinator identity, or do I become a go-getter?

Who do I want (and choose) to be?

I can evaluate and adjust my plan afterwards.

But now is not the time to negotiate.

First I envision a future me. Who do I want to be?

Then every single day, every single moment, I choose to take actions that turn me into that person I want to be.

If I don’t consciously choose my actions in the present moment that contribute to my vision, and I’m led by old unconscious patterns, beliefs, and habits instead, my visions will remain imaginary.

And if I never take the time to envision who I want to be, how do I know which actions to choose?

First envision what you want. Then choose to make it happen.

I’m not writing because I can’t write?
I’m not playing the guitar because I’m bad at music?
I’m not learning a language because I’m bad at learning languages?

That’s the world on its head.

The truth is: you can’t write because you’re not writing.
You can’t play the guitar because you’re not playing the guitar.
You can’t speak the language because you’re not learning the language.

If you would write every day, cognitive dissonance starts doing its work. Your actions will overrule your thoughts and beliefs.

And every day you write, you’re becoming a writer.

Every day you play the guitar, you’re becoming a guitar player.

Every day you learn a language, you’re becoming a language learner.

The only reason you can’t do it because you’re not doing it.

Don’t get it backwards.

The article I publish today may be worse than one I wrote 2 months ago.

I may struggle today with a guitar piece I played effortlessly last week.

And when I meditate today, my mind may be all over the place, even though last week it was calm as water.

On any given day, I may feel that I’m making progress, that I’ve reached a plateau, or even that I’m going backwards.

But it doesn’t matter.

Progress isn’t always visible in daily practice. But without daily practice, there is no progress.

If I stick to daily practice, on average, I’ll get better. I’ll start having more good days than bad. And slowly but surely, my ‘bad days’ will start being better than what I consider a ‘good day’ right now.

Progress, averaged out is what it’s all about.

Once upon a time, I consciously chose to brush my teeth every day, until brushing my teeth became my new default. Now the conscious choice I have to make is NOT brushing my teeth.

Once upon a time, during a pandemic, we consciously chose to wear face masks, until wearing face masks became the new default. Then the conscious choice we had to make was NOT wearing the face mask anymore.

Once upon a time, I consciously chose to write every day, until writing became my new default. Now the conscious choice I have to make is NOT writing.

Where else could I use a new default?

Choice inflection.

I can say I want to publish a new book.

Double my income.

Get in shape.

Learn another language.

But hidden beneath the surface of lofty goals are daily actions.

Publishing a book… What does that really mean?

Who is that person who has published the book? (Not just written… actually published?)

What do they say to themselves?

What do they think?

What do they feel?

What do they do every day? And what can I start doing every day to become more of that person who has written that book?

Most importantly, am I willing to take those actions every day to reach whatever goal I’m after?

Am I willing to change?

If not, is that goal even important to me?

Who do I choose to be?

Habits are hard to build. But there’s one that’s easy to get used to: starting a new project, then giving up.

Sometimes it’s better not to start at all, so you avoid reinforcing a quitter’s identity: I’ve given up so many times in the past, I’ll probaby give up again.

So how do you know which projects are worth starting?

Ask yourself the following questions:

1. Is this something I really want? Something that’s good for me AND feasible in the short/medium/long term? (Trust of Intention)
2. Am I prepared to go through a phase where the sole purpose is building a habit without caring about improving or marking much progress? (Trust of Completion)

If the answer to both questions is yes, you’re onto something.

If not, you’re setting yourself up for frustration.