I can write today, resent myself for not writing… or stop caring at all about writing.
I can publish a blog post today, resent myself for not posting, or stop caring at all about blog posts.
Taking action on something I care about is a valid choice.
Stopping to care about taking a certain action is an equally valid choice.
Resenting myself for not taking an action I care about… that’s a choice for self-torture.
A rough morning doesn’t mean a rough day – but it could.
A pleasant morning doesn’t mean a pleasant day – but it could.
Do you believe you’re good at something solely because of talent, invalidating all the work you’re putting in?
Or do you believe you can change the course of your life, and let your daily actions shape who you are?
The American psychologist and author of the book “Mindset” Carol Dweck describes how the way you think about your abilities can make or break your success in life:
When things get tough, people with an entity mindset often give up, because they don’t truly believe they can get much better.
After all,I if you believe it’s all about innate ability, then why make any effort to develop strengths or weaknesses?
An entity mindset also leads to fear of failure and perfectionism. If you’re believed to have an innate, fixed talent that’s set in stone, you’ll constantly need to live up to an unreasonably high standard for that particular talent.
People with an incremental mindset, on the other hand, thrive in tough situations: they know that through perseverance and a focus on daily practice and perseverance they can develop their skills and talents.
Even if predisposition plays an important role, switching to an incremental mindset will always make you feel better about yourself and your daily actions.
And while education and childhood experiences have a large impact on your mindset – you can always change your mind – by changing your actions.
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.”
You can write consistently without ever becoming skilled at writing.
But it’s hard to become skilled at writing without ever writing consistently.
Skill shouldn’t be ignored. But consistency can’t be ignored.
Perfect recall is paralyzing.
Not everything is worth remembering.
And life isn’t better when you’re a bad forgetter.
Maybe life becomes easier to navigate if we remember the fact that we’ll always make mistakes – and the lessons we learn from them – yet forget (forgive) the specific slip-ups we and others make.
Giving up on your intentions once doesn’t mean you’ll always give up.
Quitting a workout routine or diet once doesn’t mean you’re doomed forever.
Giving one clumsy speech doesn’t mean you’re a bad public speaker forever.
Learning from the past is good. But predicting the future based on a small set of isolated past experiences is overcalibration.
