The writer who never publishes.
The runner who avoids competition.
The entrepreneur who never launches a product.
What’s the one thing you’re avoiding very hard, but if you’d do it anyway, your life would get much easier?
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?
What would you finally dare to do today
if you knew whatever you try will never be perfect anyway?
Publish a story with typos and awkward sentences?
Run a marathon without finishing it?
Play a guitar piece and trip up five times?
Sing in front of other people and miss a note?
Try a new yoga pose in class and fall over?
Nothing will be perfect today.
Nothing will be perfect tomorrow.
But if you take imperfect action
and dare to publish imperfect work
everything you do will have the perfect taste of progress and consistency.
And that’s all that counts anyway.
We swerve. Sway.
We slay. Pray.
And on the road we stay.
“What am I meant to do?” I often wonder.
You may have the same question on your mind.
Or maybe you don’t think about it at all, my friend. And perhaps that’s the better choice.
The search for purpose may not be about finding that one grand mission.
Maybe it’s about creating tiny ripples of influence right where we are with what we have.
Maybe the right question is, “What am I meant to do today?”
That way, we make each day matter in ways big and small.
Because these are the days we live anyway.
Actions overrule thoughts, and sometimes the best creative act – and the one requiring the most discipline – is doing nothing.
Because when you slow down your pace, suddenly you realize: there’s space.
There’s space for the thoughts and feelings you were so afraid to face.
There’s space to redirect the energy you’ve misplaced.
There’s space to rediscover everything that escaped your gaze while you were engaged in an endless rat race.
There’s space for you to remember
that before you learned not to listen
and constant distraction erased every trace
of the insights you so desperately chase
there was a place of stillness
a warm embrace
where all the answers were right there, in your face
Only when you’ve slowed down your mind’s pace
you realize
you were never out of place
you were navigating a self-inflicted maze
with only one way out:
Make space.
Experience can make you better at performing an activity but also blind you from what you could do differently (and better).
Sometimes, the only way to innovate, see, and be free, is to take your experience goggles off.
