#117 The quest for (average) ideas

If I don’t write the post I intended to write, I actively avoid the desired result of my writing.

If I don’t do the workout I intended to do, I actively avoid the desired result of my workout (being in better shape, running a new PR,…)

If I don’t have the difficult conversation I intended to have, I actively avoid the desired result of that conversation.

Inaction is not the lack of action.

Inaction is taking active action to avoid working towards the result you desire.

The real question, then, is:

Why do I actively avoid working toward a desired result?

Am I worried that even if I write daily, I’ll never become a skilled writer?

Am I worried I won’t enjoy writing anymore if I ever get recognition?

Am I worried that writing every day will turn me into a skilled writer, but being a professional writer won’t be fulfilling?

P.S. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that I only have a limited repertoire of examples in this newsletter, my friend

I trust you to apply the insight to your situation.

And maybe, when you’re pondering the question above, you’ll come to the same conclusion as me:

That more often than not, I’m more interested in the comfort of “wanting” something I don’t have than in “taking action to get something.”

You’ll write the book until you start doubting if you have it in you to write it… then realize that the only way to find out is by actually writing the book.

You’ll prepare for the marathon until you start doubting if you can finish it… then realize that the only way to find out is by actually running the marathon.

You’ll build the business until you start doubting if this is a viable idea… then realize that the only way to find out is by actually building the business.

No matter how much you dance circles, ignoring what your gut has been telling you, deep down, you know: this is where you should’ve gone all along.

Does a day end, or does a new one start?

Does the end of a book chapter signal termination, or does it serve as a gateway to an unexplored continuation?

Maybe we don’t need to arbitrarily mark endings and beginnings in lives that consist of an uninterrupted flow.

Maybe we’re just a tiny plot in a story spanning billions of years.

Maybe we don’t grasp the bigger story anyway.

Maybe it’s all the same.

The outcome is not the book.
The outcome is not the marathon.
The outcome is not the successful business.

The outcome is not even the daily habit you form, even though they’re the stepping stones you need.

The outcome is the embodiment of the changes we’ve internalized, the growth we’ve experienced, and the evolution we’ve undergone, allowing us to say, “This is what I now stand for. This is what I believe is possible.”

The outcome is the identity.

Maybe it’s less about “What do I want to achieve?” and more about “What do I want to believe?”