#557 When progress seems slow
When progress seems slow
Maybe even invisible
And still, every day you show
That you know
Where you’re going
That’s where you truly grow.
When progress seems slow
Maybe even invisible
And still, every day you show
That you know
Where you’re going
That’s where you truly grow.
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.
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?
Go slow, slow, slow
Until all the friction has dissolved
Life is back in flow
Then let go.
Admiring (flawed) early work is easy when we already know the late work is going to be great.
Everyone forgives Picasso or Da Vinci for a lousy early sketch. In fact, people pay good money to hang one in their living room.
Maybe the early work, showing that even the greats are mere mortals on a journey towards excellence, is the most valuable?
And yet, it’s much harder to be gentle on a beginning artist for shipping mediocre creative work – not in the least for the beginning artist themselves – when their path to excellence hasn’t unfolded yet.
After all, something that one day will be “my early work” is still “my current best work” today.
The road to excellence is invisible from the trenches.
But that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.
Which makes me wonder…
When I know that through persistence and daily practice, one day, I’ll look back on today’s creation, smiling, thinking: “Oh how far I’ve come… How much I’ve learned… And some of this was actually pretty good…”
Can I admire my creative work less for what it looks, feels, or sounds like, and more for who I’m becoming through making it?
Can I do the same for the creative projects of others?
With that mindset… How much easier and forgiving would the daily creative journey be?
It’s not about the book; it’s about the fact that you started writing consistently.
It’s not about the marathon; it’s about the fact that you started practicing diligently.
Achievements are the results that will soon become a distant memory.
Habits are the results you’ll carry with you for a lifetime.
First I feel.
Then I learn to categorize those feelings with words – until at some point, I don’t feel sensations anymore. I feel words.
I say I’m angry – but what does being angry feel like again?
I say I’m happy – but which sensations rush through my body?
I say I’m sad – but does sadness always feel the same?
With sensations comes nuance.