Maybe you’ll succeed.
Or maybe you’re destined to fail at this, to prepare you for your next venture.
And if you’re destined to fail… is failing really a failure?
Or is it a success?
Who knows whether it’s true or not.
But it’s definitely reassuring.
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?
Wanting to improve certain areas in your life is powerful.
But that improvement gap comes with a pressure trap.
Because if you believe you’re in control of your actions, the moments you accidentally fall back into old patterns become extra frustrating.
When your self-worth becomes attached to your behavior, every action becomes a judgment of character.
And so the pressure mounts.
Missing one workout means you’re not worthy of running a marathon.
Missing one day of writing means you’ll never be a writer.
Making one communication mistake, making someone angry, means you’re a terrible person.
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To make that pressure bearable, build self-trust (for example, through Tiny Trust Builders).
Trust that you can run a marathon, even if you miss a workout.
Trust that you can be a writer, even if you miss one day of writing.
Trust that you can be a good person, even if you’ve made mistakes or upset some people.
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Notice the improvement gap between where you are and where you want to go.
Let the majority of your actions be a vote for the person you want to be.
Focus on elastic discipline, not hardliner habits.
Do all that, and you’ll feel more fulfilled and free.
We naturally move towards pleasure and away from pain – with one exception: painful comfort.
If you’re used to believing that you’re bad at languages, there’s painful comfort in struggling with languages.
If you’re used to negative self-talk, there’s painful comfort in negative self-talk.
If you’re used to working 12-hour days, there’s painful comfort in working 12-hour days.
If you’re used to constant conflict, there’s painful comfort in constant conflict.
If you’re used to neglect, there’s painful comfort in neglect.
Painful comfort is keeping you comfortable AND hurting you.
Years of conditioning have given it an irresistible pull – until you decide to take a leap of faith and start believing that you, too, can change.
Where are you perpetuating painful comfort in life?
Not believing in something doesn’t make it impossible.
Rejecting something doesn’t make it impossible.
Not having experienced something doesn’t make it impossible.
You don’t know what’s possible.
You don’t know what’s possible for you.
And the sooner you accept that, the more will suddenly be possible.
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.
Question: Do you know how old I’ll be by the time I learn to play the piano?
Answer: The same age you will be if you don’t.
Julia Cameron, The Artist’s Way
Some skills take years of practice before I’m any good at them. But I’m living those years anyway. And while society and systemic pressure might push me down a certain path, I still have a say in how I spend every day.
Whether I publish a blog post today or not, I’ll go to bed tonight and the sun will still come up tomorrow.
Whether I write every day in the coming 10 years or not, in 10 years I’ll still turn 40.
The only difference: will I feel that my actions were aligned with who I want to be? Or will I feel regret instead?
Some aspirations are worth the time you’re living anyway.
