Thinking about writing makes the writing harder.
Dreaming about writing makes the writing harder.
Planning my writing sessions makes the writing harder.
But writing… that makes the writing easier.
Because most things become easier when you actually do them instead of just think about them.
Only when you stop worrying about whether you’re a good writer do you have a shot at being a writer.
Only when you stop worrying about whether you’re a good friend, you have a shot at having true friendship.
Only when the worries stop, does the potential show up.
Getting worked up about traffic jams is not pleasant, but it’s predictable. And addictive.
So is giving up on writing a book, quitting a workout regime, and re-living any conflict or failure.
Not pleasant. But predictable.
This is how you’ve always felt. And this is how you’ll always feel – unless you become aware of the unpleasant, predictable, addictive patterns and decide to act differently.
Not only once, not twice, but every time you become aware of the pattern until you’ve built enough self-trust that you know the unpleasant predictable events aren’t inevitable.
Wisdom doesn’t come from experience. It comes from reflecting on experience.
— Adam Grant (@AdamMGrant) December 11, 2022
Between ages 25 and 75, the correlation between age and wisdom is zero.
Gaining insight and perspective is not about the number of years you've lived. It's about the number of lessons you've learned. pic.twitter.com/8wbKsCMkED
Memory isn’t an objective account of the past – and that’s not its purpose either.
Memory stores the lessons we extract from life experience. And to do so, it modifies, adds, subtracts, highlights, and hides.
Hot soup burns my tongue – next time, I’ll remember the pain, but not if it was tomato soup or chicken soup. And I’ll remember to wait a couple of minutes before having the first spoon.
Experience lived. Irrelevant info deleted. Lesson learned. Memory created.
My country gets invaded – and that causes so much pain, I won’t just deliver an objective account of what happened: I’ll make sure to tell everyone who the evil guys are too.
Experience lived. Story modified. Lesson learned. Memory created.
I eat the most delicious dessert at a Mexico City restaurant – that’s the memory I’m going to tell my friends about, not which glass of dessert wine I had with it.
Experience lived. Dessert highlighted. Lesson learned. Memory created.
You’re going to make memories anyway. Which lessons do you want to learn?
When I write, I’m meditating.
When I meditate, I’m writing.
When I run, I’m meditating.
When I meditate, I’m running.
When I play the guitar, I’m meditating.
When I meditate, I’m playing the guitar.
When I meditate, I’m writing.
When I write, I’m running.
When I run, I’m playing the guitar.
And no matter what I do, I’m always living.
Life experience always carries over.
You’re on a lifelong journey, and it’ll be over before you know it.
Which doesn’t mean you’re in a rush.
After all, who’s to say that going slow and intentional won’t give you a longer life than rushing through the days to cram in as much as possible?
Learning often implies discovering what you can’t do.
I can’t write and convey what I want to say. I can’t speak Spanish fluently. I can’t do this yoga pose.
For many people that’s also the final destination, when in fact, it’s only the start.
We’re missing a word: Learning is discovering what you can’t do yet.
Or, even better:
Learning is discovering what, through diligent practice, you’ll soon be able to do.
After all, actions overrule thoughts.
I can’t write and find the right words… yet. But with diligent practice, soon, I’ll be able to convey what I want to say.
I’m not able to do this yoga pose… yet. But with diligent practice, soon I will.
I can’t speak Spanish fluently… yet. But with diligent practice, soon I will.
That’s all there is to it.
Discover your current limit. Realize that through diligent practice, you’ll overcome it.
Then you’ll find a new limit. And through diligent practice, you’ll overcome it.
Until you find a new limit, which you’ll overcome… through diligent practice.
Where do you let the discovery of your current limit be your end station?
