#428 I can. And so can you.
I write every day, because I can. And so can you.
I don’t run every day, even though I could. And so could you.
Whether our mind allows us to see it or not, we always can.
We always have the time.
I write every day, because I can. And so can you.
I don’t run every day, even though I could. And so could you.
Whether our mind allows us to see it or not, we always can.
We always have the time.
If you made a plan to write every day, write today.
Don’t think. Write.
Because the decision has already been made.
And now is not the time to negotiate.
It only takes one new habit to restore faith in the malleable mind.
“I’ve never been good at languages. Until I learned my first foreign language. If I can do that… what else is possible?”
“I’ve never been good at public speaking. Until I gave my first speech, and then my second, and then my twentieth. If I can do that… What else is possible?”
“I always give up on projects before I bring them to completion. Until I completed one project. Then another. Then another. If I can do that… What else is possible?“
If something I thought I could never do becomes possible, cracks start to appear in my limiting beliefs.
It’s not just about the habits. It’s about the belief that you can change your habits, trust in your ability to complete projects and stick to your routine.
And the only way to build that is through taking small daily actions that are votes for who you want to be (and what you want to achieve).
Again: it only takes one new daily action to start restoring your belief in the malleable mind.
Start with one. Then discover what else is possible.
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?
You don’t have to change or improve who you are.
But you could develop new parts of your character without dismissing the existing parts.
They’re not the same thing.
Most people are kind at heart and would be happy to help you – and other people – out all the time if only, you know, just like you, they didn’t have a life of their own full of obligations, dreams, passions, and worries. In other words, a life that doesn’t entirely revolve around being at your service.
I don’t know if that always holds for everyone, my friend. And it’s not a free pass for selfishness or treating others poorly.
But I do like to believe it’s mainly a mental bandwidth challenge and that deep down, people always want to help.
Because it makes me more understanding and empathetic. For other people’s behavior and my own.
After all, it’s not about you. It’s not about me. It’s about us all.
Most people don’t really want the freedom to do anything they want, in other words, a life without constraints.
They want the freedom to set their own constraints.
To decide, “I want to spend my time writing,” instead of saying, “I am supposed to become a lawyer because that’s what we do in this family.”
To decide, “I don’t drink alcohol,” instead of saying, “My social circle forces me to have a glass when I’m out.”
To decide, “I want to live in that house, drive that car, and go on that exotic holiday, and I’m going to make it happen,” instead of saying, “I’m constrained by my talent, potential, current job, or where I grew up.”
To decide, “I have time to learn a new language because it’s important to me,” instead of saying, “I’m too busy, I can’t (or don’t deserve to) do anything nice for myself.”
Good or bad, beneficial or misguided, constraints are always there.
Because life constantly forces you to make decisions, and every decision leads to a new constraint.
Since it’s challenging to be aware of your decisions and their long-term constraining effects, which constraints do you consider important enough to set consciously (and spend considerable time and effort doing so)?
Where do you allow others to dictate the constraints you live within?
Who do you allow to dictate the constraints you live within?
Pick your freedom battles.