What would you still do even if nobody else would ever see or hear it?
What do you secretly love but you don’t WANT anyone else to see or hear – out of fear of being judged?
Both are good indicators of a passion – or an addiction.
If it’s a passion, and it’s good for you (aligned with your values and goals and fulfilling): pursue.
If it’s an addiction, and it’s bad for you: reconsider.
In his book The Art of Learning (and his podcast episodes with Tim Ferris), Josh Waitzkin, former chess player and martial artist, introduces the concept of “hidden reps” when learning something new:
I think that where the really potent, low-hanging fruit hanging in plain sight lie are in the thematic, are in breaking down the learning process into the core principles or themes you want to work on and doing reps of those. Those are just invisible to people in plain sight.
Josh Waitzkin on the Tim Ferris Podcast: https://tim.blog/2020/03/14/josh-waitzkin-transcript-412/
In other words, find “neglected skills“: situations you don’t often find yourself in and where you haven’t developed a lot of trust and confidence in your abilities yet.
Then isolate and practice them until you develop confidence and trust for that particular neglected skill.
For example, when working on his chess game, instead of practicing the “openings” like everybody else, Josh would isolate the “end games”(the final part of a chess match) and practice only these.
Most people wouldn’t think of doing that; they would always start at the opening (that’s where a chess match starts, after all) and practice the end game only as an afterthought, deep into their practice session when they had already spent all their energy on the opening.
By cutting out the opening entirely during practice sessions, Josh got a lot more “hidden reps” with the end game than his competitors, which led to a big competitive advantage.
This might seem obvious, but in my experience, it’s really quite counterintuitive not to start at the beginning when practicing a skill.
For example, when learning a new guitar piece, it feels strange not to start at the beginning but to pick out a difficult part and practice that over and over again. It’s not impossible, and many teachers will tell you to isolate difficult parts, but my (and many other students’) first instinct would always be to start at the top, over and over again.
Which begs the question:
Where else are we “starting from the top” over and over again, instead of finding and isolating the neglected skills?
Some examples of how I’m trying to integrate this principle into my life:
Neglected skills are everywhere. No matter what you’re trying to learn or achieve, creating the circumstances where you can identify and isolate them, then put in the hidden reps, will pay big dividends.
Elon Musk has the rock-solid belief that someday, he’s going to put people on Mars. He doesn’t hope for it. He believes it’s inevitable.
Whether his belief becomes a reality or not is irrelevant. What matters are the actions and grit his faith inspires in him and everyone working with him.
That’s the rock-solid determination extraordinary feats are built on.
But you don’t have to dream of interplanetary travel to reach stellar levels of determination.
What would you do if writing a new book isn’t just optional or desirable but inevitable?
What would you do if mastering an instrument isn’t just possible but inescapable?
What happens when, in your mind, you turn a dream into a certainty?
How does that change your actions? Mindset? Beliefs? Feelings?
How much easier does it become to persevere?
Achieving an outcome without the daily actions that lead to an identity shift is empty and unsustainable.
I may want to publish a book. But if someone writes the whole book without my input and I put my name on it in the end, do I deserve to call it my book?
I have a book. But I’m not a writer. And I’m not an author.
I may want to have a million dollars. But if tomorrow I win the lottery or receive a large inheritance without any action from my side, what does that mean?
I have a million dollars. But I’m not wealthy – and research suggests that without proper guidance, I’ll spend it all, ending up back at square one.
It works the other way around, too. You can blindly chase an outcome (or slip into bad habits) without considering how the actions you need to take to get there will change you as a person.
Depending on your actions to get there, chasing fame can make you happy – or very unhappy. Writing a book can make you happy or very unhappy. Building a hugely successful company can make you happy or very unhappy.
The value, satisfaction, and resentment are all in the actions, not the outcome.
We all live in a maze of mistranslations and misunderstandings about who we think you are and who others think we are.
Now, by lack of a way to know who we truly are, misunderstandings can be comforting, my friend; there’s no doubt about that.
But when you get so lost in the maze that it causes suffering, it might be time to start mending the misunderstandings.
Could it be that mending is nothing more than making another mistranslation about who we are that makes us happier?
After all, I can perceive myself as a struggling writer or a skilled wordsmith – both perspectives hold their truths.
It’s the power of our misunderstandings that molds our reality.
Thought of the day: it’s better to be proven wrong than to be paralyzed in doubt.
I am inspired when I write, because I care about writing.
I am disappointed when I don’t write, because I care about writing.
I am delighted when there are no traffic jams, because I care about efficiency.
I am frustrated when the train is delayed, because I care about efficiency.
Strong emotions are the most honest answer to the question, “Do I care?”
”But should I care?” I hear you ask.
Well, my friend, that’s a different question.
