Everything is impossible until suddenly it’s possible.
And then you’ll find the next thing that’s impossible.
The cycle of piercing through the veil is impossibility is eternal.
Frustrating when you forget.
Comforting when you remember.
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 writing and creating every day were as vital to my survival as drinking water, ingesting food, and bonding… What would life look like?
Biologically, all behavior is driven by pain, pleasure, and the triggers and habits that come from repeated reaction to those stimuli.
So I eat because I want to escape the pain of hunger – or heartbreak, sadness, and frustration.
I connect with others because I’m neurologically hardwired to feel pleasure when bonding… and pain and deprivation when I’m abandoned.
Similarly, I write because I want to escape the frustration of not being able to put into words an insight.
I also write because I enjoy the rush resulting from finding the words that convey what I want to say.
I write because I love the tingling in my back and neck when I combine those words into sentences with just the right rhythm, just the right cadence capturing the meaning, context, emotion of what I want to say…
I write because writing wrests the essence from the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions racing through my mind and body.
I write because when when I write, I feel that at last, I can make sense of life.
And the more meaning I find, the more likely I am to write.
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?
You’ll end up in the season of distraction.
And then you’ll be back again.
You’ll end up in the season of rest.
And then you’ll be back again.
You’ll end up in the season of turmoil.
And then you’ll be back again.
And the more you go “back again” to a path, the stronger that default path becomes.
Choose it wisely.
If I don’t meditate today, will I ever become a consistent practitioner?
If I don’t go for that run today, will I ever become a runner?
If I don’t stick to my diet today, will I ever get in shape?
There’s a time and place for being a hardliner about your habits – the first 30-45 days when the naysayer voice in your head still says, “let’s see how long it takes before I give up again.”
After all, you’re building a new identity and will still be pulled back towards your old ways.
But at some point, hardliners need to make the switch to “elastic discipline“:
Being disciplined about your daily practice while trusting yourself enough that when life inevitably puts you in a situation where you HAVE to violate your principles, you can navigate it, adjust your behavior, and afterward, like an elastic band, bounce back to your disciplined practice.
This is an overlooked part of habit-building. Because if you don’t consciously build the self-trust that you can, in fact, persevere despite setbacks, you’ll live in fear of giving up forever.
So initially, when you start a new habit, be a hardliner.
Use Tiny Trust Builders to start building confidence in your ability to persevere.
After 30 days, start asking yourself: do I trust myself enough to skip a day and then bounce back to my disciplined practice tomorrow?
Skip a day, then start again.
Build self-trust.
Feel your confidence and self-worth grow.
Cultivate “elastic discipline” and become free.
Memory is context – in language and in general.
Context of words surrounded by other words and sounds within a sentence.
Context of words surrounded by actions – actor, action, object affected (in whatever way or order your mother tongue expresses it).
Context of words and the images they spur.
Context of words and the feelings they evoke.
When learning another language, you can link words to the context of your mother tongue.
But to truly understand them, you’ll have to create a new context too.
For example, an apple in Spanish: una manzana.
Seemingly the same object, now perceived through new sounds.
New actions.
New images.
New feelings.
Keeping all that in mind, are we really still talking about the same object? Is the Spanish manzana encerada that made me sick in Spanish the same as the apple my grandpa helped me pick? If it is, do I now have a richer perception of that object that once up on a time, I could only interact with through the limits of one language?
Learning vocabulary lists with isolated words will never get you fluent in a foreign language.
If you don’t build a new context of sounds, actions, images, feelings, you’ll always keep imposing your mother tongue on the foreign language.
That’s why you can’t just learn a foreign language. You have to live it.
