It’s that time of the year again!
*. Fauja Singh Keeps Going: The True Story of the Oldest Person to Ever Run A Marathon by Simran Jeet Singh. (L/I/A) Let's start off with a picture book. I’ve always felt there was a weird gap somewhere between fiction and non-fiction picture books. On one hand: Fiction! So much fiction! Goodnight moon from the great green room and running with Thing One and Thing Two. But on the other hand? Non-fiction like The Milky Way or Ant or Mother Theresa or just blow-by-blow of how something works or a biography of someone famous. But where are the books about the everyperson – the Vishwas the Uber Drivers or Shirley the Nurses or Zafar the Hamburger Men of the world. Well, enter Fauja Singh to correct the balance! Fauja is alive and well today at 110 years old – 110 years old! -- and is the oldest person to ever run a marathon. Did he train all his life? No, he began running only a few decades ago ... in his 80s! A wonderful true story about a skinny boy growing up in Punjab with weak legs and a strong spirit. Doubles as a nice introduction to Sikhism which the book calls the fifth largest religion. (Wikipedia says ninth but who's counting?)
'If—' by Rudyard Kipling
Written by Rudyard Kipling (link to poem here)
Context:
I used Rudyard Kipling’s famous 1895 poem in my book The Happiness Equation and it’s still one of my favorites.
Poem:
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
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'On Children' by Khalil Gibran
Written by Khalil Gibran (Link to poem here)
Context:
We are all just baton passers at the end of the day, from the lives forever before us to the lives forever after us. I often find myself dizzy just thinking about it and gave the world's first ever TED Listen poking at the idea. This Kahlil Gibran poem from The Prophet speaks to the broader energy we all share and spoke to me as a father of young children, too.
Poem:
And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, Speak to us of Children.
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the Archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.
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'Think Like a Bronze Medalist, Not Silver' by Derek Sivers
Written by Derek Sivers (full article here)
I compare myself to others. A lot! I know it's human nature. I know we all do it. But "comparison is the thief of joy," as that old saying goes.
You may have heard of the famous study about bronze medalists being happier than silver medalists. I like to remind myself of that and this article from Derek Sivers, which appeared in his 2020 book 'Hell Yeah or No,' does a great job distilling it.
Ask yourself: What are you beating yourself up about today because you are "finishing second" instead of looking for joy or gratitude about "being on the podium" or, even better, "getting to run the race" at all?
Let's keep running the race.
Article:
Imagine the Olympics, where you have the three winners of a race standing on the podium: the gold, the silver, and the bronze.
Imagine what it’s like to be the silver medalist. If you’d been just one second faster, you could have won the gold! Damn! So close! Damn damn damn! Full of envy, you’d keep comparing yourself to the gold winner.
Now imagine what it’s like to be the bronze medalist. If you’d been just one second slower, you wouldn’t have won anything! Awesome! You’d be thrilled that you’re officially an Olympic medalist and get to stand on the winner’s podium.
Comparing up versus comparing down: Your happiness depends on where you’re focusing.
The metaphor is easy to understand, but hard to remember in regular life. If you catch yourself burning with envy or resentment, think like the bronze medalist, not the silver. Change your focus. Instead of comparing up to the next-higher situation, compare down to the next-lower one.
For example, if you aim to buy “the best” thing, you may feel like gold when you get it, but when the new “best” thing comes out next year, you’ll feel that silver envy. Instead, if you aim to buy the “good enough” thing, it will keep you in the bronze mindset. Since you’re not comparing to the best, you’ll feel no need to keep up.
I’ve met a lot of famous musicians. The miserable ones were upset that they weren’t more famous, because they’d bitterly compare themselves to the superstars. The happiest ones were thrilled to be able to make a living making music.
On the other hand, when you’re being ambitious, trying to be the best at a specific skill, it’s good to be dissatisfied, like that silver medalist focusing on the gold. You can use that drive to practice and improve.
But most of the time, you need to be more grateful for what you’ve got, for how much worse it could have been, and how nice it is to have anything at all. Ambition versus gratitude. Comparing up versus comparing down.
For funnier thoughts on this, search the web for Louis C.K.’s “everything is amazing and nobody is happy” and Jerry Seinfeld’s “silver medal” routines.
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How to Embrace the Most Embarrassing Parts of Your Resume
Everyone’s resume has a dud or two. Glaring gaps after getting fired. That new boss who reorganized your team–and maybe didn’t like you that much–and gave you a title demotion you’re still embarrassed about. And let’s not forget your short-lived stint as VP of operations at a hypergrowth startup, where your chief responsibility was packing boxes til midnight on Fridays until your partner cried foul.
I feel uncomfortable about parts of my career history, too. I went headfirst into marketing after college before realizing it was an Excel job and I expected a Powerpoint one. I started a restaurant that flopped. I made lateral moves, playing hot potato with my career for about a decade without ever cracking the ranks of leadership.
But what if duds like these aren’t duds? What if they’re simply the points on the zigzagging line that leads to the presently crystallized version of you? Someone with experience, know-how, and the crucial leadership traits of humility and empathy gleaned from working in the battlefields and the trenches–not just commanding the fleets?
Or hey, maybe not. Even so, the ability to take command of your resume–whatever it looks like–and tell a compelling narrative about your career couldn’t be more critical. Selling your experience is a vital skill, whether you’re on a job interview or wooing clients for your solo business. But to do that well, you first need to come to grips with the parts of your job history that you’re least interested in talking about. And that means working your way through these three phases:
Hide
Apologize
Accept
Here’s what that looks like.
PHASE 1: HIDING
For years I was embarrassed that I worked at Walmart. At parties or industry events, I answered the question the same way many of my coworkers did.
Them: So where do you work, anyway?
Me: Retail.
Them: Cool.
Eventually, I started to realize that masking is a form of self-judgment. I wasn’t confident about working at Walmart. I was afraid to mention the company because I was afraid of people’s perceptions: Main-Street-obliterating, fair-wage–damaging, soul-destroying behemoth corrupting society.
By acting awkwardly, I made things awkward for others.
That may not have been true, but whatever they were going to think, I wanted to avoid confronting it. Rather than acknowledge this part of my identity, I hid it. I didn’t mention it in my biography, my blog, any of my books, radio lead-ins, or newspaper interviews.
And I called this humility. But it was really fear. After a few years, I finally figured this out and decided that from then on, I would tell anybody exactly where I worked if they asked. Of course, I did this in a tentative, awkward way.
PHASE 2: APOLOGIZING
It went something like this:
Them: So where do you work, anyway?
Me: (grimacing) Uh . . . Walmart?
Them: Oh, uh, okay, haha . . . yeah, I heard of the place! Haha, uh . . .
By acting awkwardly, I made things awkward for others. By apologizing for myself, I forced others to apologize, too. Eventually, I realized that apologizing was a form of self-judgment in the way that hiding my job history was.
Arguably, it even made things worse. I was communicating a part of myself, then immediately sounding a Family Feud–style buzzer after my own response:
“We surveyed 100 people and the top five answers are on the board. Name a place you have worked.”
“Uh . . . Walmart?”
NNNNNNN!
Apologizing avoids ownership. It creates distance. It suggests a mistake–one that you then need to account for. Apologizing is what you do when your dog craps on the neighbor’s lawn and then you notice your neighbor watching from the window. (Sorry, Keith!)
Do this kind of thing on a job interview, even unwittingly, and a hiring manager will notice immediately. Eventually I clued in to this bad habit myself, and after a couple years of apologizing for my own resume, I finally moved on to the third and final step.
PHASE 3: ACCEPTANCE
Them: So where do you work, anyway?
Me: Walmart.
Them: Cool.
Sounds silly, but it really was that simple. Gone was the tendency to hide the truth from others that reflected my desire to hide it from myself. Gone was the tentativeness and questioning, telling others that I was questioning part of myself–and inviting them to question me, too.
Accepting yourself communicates confidence [and] insulates you from the tide of emotions that wells up whenever other people’s views intersect with your own.
Instead I gained a clear and simple truth, grounded in fact: This is where I’ve worked, and whatever others may think, I still gained some valuable experience from it–experience that helped me make better decisions about my career later on. Ask me about that, and I’d be glad to talk about it.
This way, I consciously remove myself from any possible judgment. And if I am judged negatively, that needs to be wholly owned by the other person–I won’t do their judging for them. The physicist Richard Feynman has said, “You have no responsibility to live up to what other people think you ought to accomplish. I have no responsibility to be like they expect me to be. It’s their mistake, not my failing.”
Accepting yourself communicates confidence, which is a well-known career asset. More than that, it insulates you from the tide of emotions that wells up whenever other people’s views intersect with your own–sometimes muddling your thoughts and bending your beliefs.
What do you do with their views? How do you stop judging yourself? Laugh at it! At least to yourself. A big laugh helps you look deep, examine your self-judgments, and push through the steps to embracing the most (no-longer) cringeworthy parts of your work experience:
H–Hide
A–Apologize
A–Accept
HAA!
Listen, we’re all full of self-judgments: We tell ourselves we’re fat, lazy, don’t exercise enough, aren’t worthy of a raise, aren’t worthy of love, wouldn’t find another job if we were fired or a new significant other if we’re dumped. Those can become dangerously self-fulfilling prophecies if you let them, especially in the job market. Sometimes we forget that we’re all trying our best–all of us–to do better.
It’s a process. And that’s nowhere truer than in our careers; tell yourself you’ve finally “arrived,” and your skills, curiosity, and potential will stagnate in short order.
Find what’s hidden, stop apologizing, and accept yourself. It’s the best thing you can do for your occasionally humiliating resume–and the career you’re rightly proud that it’s led to.
An earlier version of this article originally appeared in Fast Company.
'When Death Comes' by Mary Oliver
Written by Mary Oliver (Link to poem here)
Context:
Do you have blurry days? Way too fast days? Way too shallow days? Me too. Often! We all do. And sometimes on those blurry, fast, shallow days it's worth taking a minute to pause and meditate on the wondrous beauty that is life itself so that we might remember to always steer ourselves a little closer to being 'a bride married to amazement.' This poem appeared in the collection New and Selected Poems by Mary Oliver. It was published in 1992 and won the National Book Award.
Poem:
When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins
from his purse
to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox
when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity,
wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
When it's over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and
real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world
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The 3 S’s of Success
“How can I be successful?”
It’s a question many of us ask ourselves and have trouble answering. Because what is success, anyway? Is it writing a book and selling a million copies? Is it winning awards and gaining respect from your peers? Or is just feeling satisfied with your work?
We’re often told that success is in the eye of the beholder — that we need to define it for ourselves, on terms that are meaningful to us.
I believe that’s true but that advice doesn’t tell us how to do it. Try as we might, many of our achievements wind up fitting a mold that suits somebody else — employers, parents, societal expectations — at least as much as, if not more than, it suits us personally. And we still find ourselves left unsatisfied or unhappy, wishing we had something more or something else, no matter how ‘successful’ we’ve been.
I think one of the reasons why is because there roughly are three types of success. I call them the 3 S’s. The trick is to first decide that you can’t have all three of them at once and that you therefore must figure out which one you’re really aiming at.
Here’s how I draw the 3 S’s of success on a triangle:
1. Sales success is about getting people to buy something you’ve created. Your book is a commercial hit! Everybody’s reading it, everybody’s talking about it, you’re on TV. You sell hundreds and then thousands and then millions of copies. Dump trucks beep while backing into your driveway before pouring out endless shiny coins as royalty payments. Sales success is about money. How much did you sell?
2. Social success means you’re widely recognized among your peers and people you respect. Critical success. Industry renown! To extend the book example, let’s say the New York Times reviews your latest novel and some writers you respect send you letters saying they thought the book was great (whether or not it’s a commercial hit).
3. Self success is in your head. It’s invisible. Only you know if you have it, because it corresponds to internal measures you’ve established on your own. Self success means you’ve achieved what you wanted to achieve. For yourself. You’re proud and satisfied with your work.
These three categories are broad and approximate but I think that’s why they’re useful: Chances are good that any major achievement you reach will fall more clearly into one than another. They apply to pretty much all industries, professions, and aspects of life.
The point is that success is not one-dimensional.
In order to be truly happy with your successes, you first need to decide what kind of success you want.
Are you in marketing? Sales success means your product flew off the shelves and your numbers blew away forecasts. Social success means you were written up in prestigious magazines, nominated for an award, or shouted out by the CEO at the all-hands meeting. Self success? That’s the same: How do you feel about your accomplishments?
Are you a teacher? Sales success means you’re offered promotions based on your work in the classroom because the bosses want to magnify and implement your work more widely. You’re asked to become a Vice Principal or Principal. Social success means educators invite you to present at conferences, mentor new teachers, and the superintendent recognizes you for your work. Self success? Again: How do you feel about your accomplishments?
There is a catch, though.
I believe it’s impossible to experience all three successes at once.
Picture the triangle above like one of those wobbly exercise planks at an old-school gym. If you push down on two sides, the third side lifts into the air. In our lives and work, it’s rare that any given thing we do — any single success we achieve, no matter how great — can satisfy ourselves and others in equal measure. Aspiring to that, if you ask me, is a mistake.
Sales success, for instance, can block self success. That’s what happened to me as a writer when I got hooked on bestseller lists, blog stats, and brand extensions. Personal goals took a backseat to more tangible commercial ones. I started making things because I was asked to and not because I wanted to. Sure, the saying goes “make hay while the sun shines,” and I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with chasing commercial success, but I’m pointing out that if that’s your north star it can distract or block you from chasing deeply personal goals.
Look at it the other way.
Personal goals don’t necessarily have a marketable strategy so no sales or social success may follow. I’m talking about making that triple-decker chocolate birthday cake you bake for your daughter, the incredible twelfth grade chemistry lesson you put your heart into for weeks, the backyard deck you built with your bare hands. You wouldn’t expect royalty payments or critical reviews from those endeavors. You’re not trying to sell cakes, lesson plans, or decks. You could! But that wasn’t your goal.
And, finally, let’s peek at this from a final view. Critical darlings often sell poorly. You see this almost every year at the Oscars. Spotlight wins Best Picture — tense, dramatic, wonderful acting. How much did it gross at the domestic box office? $45 million. That same year Furious 7 made $353 million.
Which would you have rather made?
There is Sales, Social, and Self success.
Spend time thinking about which one you want and then go.
Good luck!
This Two-Minute Morning Practice Will Make Your Day Better
In the early 2010s, I wrote a self-help book that catapulted me into a strange universe. I went from working an office job in the suburbs to walking onto TV show sets where I was often introduced as “Captain Awesome” or “The Happy Guy!”
I was thrust into becoming a spokesperson for positivity, happiness, and intentional living.
But there was just one problem.
My life was a mess.
I originally wrote the book as a series of blog posts to cope with the pain of my marriage falling apart and the heartbreak of losing my best friend to suicide. I moved to a bachelor apartment downtown and lived alone for the first time in my life. I began experiencing deep loneliness, chronic sleeplessness, and endless anxiety.
My solution to these deep emotional issues was to become a workaholic.
I would work in the suburbs all day, pick up a burrito on my way downtown, and then set it on my desk while working until one or two in the morning before falling asleep exhausted and then waking up exhausted when my alarm buzzed the next morning at 6:00 a.m.
I started taking pills to help me fall asleep and pills to help me wake up. I lost 40 pounds due to stress. I had headaches and chest flutters and stomach bubbles all day. Black bags slowly expanded like puddles under my eyes. When coworkers began asking if I was getting enough sleep, I bought and started applying face makeup.
I didn’t have time to sleep more and I didn’t have time to be asked about it.
I knew I was spinning.
After reading the book Willpower by Roy Baumeister and John Tierney, I became convinced my issue was decision fatigue. My to-do list was a mile high! So in an act of desperation, I began writing down a couple things I would focus on each day on a blank 4×6 index card. “I will focus on…” helped me carve some ‘will dos’ out of the endless ‘could dos’ and ‘should dos.’
The practice began providing ballast to my days because it blew away the endless fog of ‘what should I do next?’ and helped break giant projects down into simple tasks. A looming book deadline became ‘write 500 words’, an all-hands meeting about a major redesign became ‘send invite to three execs for feedback,’ and my nonexistent exercise regime became ‘go for a 10-minute walk at lunch.’
I will focus on…
I started buying index cards in packs of 100 at the dollar store and felt a sense of pride whenever I finished another pack.
The practice was wonderful for reducing decision fatigue, but I was still much too focused on the negative throughout the rest of my life. Over the next few years, I came across research that convinced me it wasn’t my fault.
What do I mean?
It turns out our brains contain an almond-sized amygdala that secretes fight-or-flight hormones all day. A few hundred thousand years of evolutionary programming makes us want to stare at bad news, sad news, and controversial news — endlessly. This naturally ingrained tendency is why we rubberneck on the highway, scan for one-star reviews, and immediately find the one question we got wrong on the math test. Our amygdalas are fantastic at looking for problems, finding problems, and solving problems, but they’re also ripe for exploitation. News media and social media sites have perfected that perfect sour-sweet-sour combo that grabs the greatest amount of our attention possible.
MSNBC’s goal isn’t to give you the news — it’s to sell you Subarus. Instagram’s goal isn’t to make you new friends — it’s to sell you a juice cleanse.
I decided it wasn’t my fault I was negative. It was the world’s fault!
But, fortunately unfortunately, I live in the world.
So what did I do? A study comparing people who wrote down gratitudes to people who wrote down hassles or events taught me that if I write down things I’m grateful for every week over a 10-week period, I’ll not only be happier, but physically healthier.
Each day, I added this to the back of my index card:
I am grateful for…
Do you do bicep curls? Hamstring curls? I started thinking of gratitudes as brain curls. The key is that they really need to be specific. Writing down things like “my apartment, my mom, and my job” over and over doesn’t do anything. I had to write down things like, “the way the sunset looks over the purple hostel across the street,” or “when my mom dropped off leftover chicken biryani,” or “having egg salad sandwiches in the cafeteria today with Agostino.”
I was proud of my new morning index card habit, but I still found myself holding too much stress. Then I came across a study in Science magazine called “Don’t Look Back in Anger!” showing that minimizing regrets as we age increases contentment. In other words, the act of sharing what’s worrying you actually helps extricate it.
So I added one final line to my daily index card:
I will let go of…
I will let go of…the rude email I sent last night at 11 p.m. I will let go of…showing up late to the meeting with the boss. I will let go of …comparing myself to Tim Ferriss.
The difference this simple practice made in my life has been incredible.
Because the truth is we’re only awake for around 1000 minutes a day on average. If we can invest just two of them to prime our brains for positivity, then we’ll be helping ensure the other 998 minutes of our days are happier.
Over time, I switched the order around, turned it into a formal journal, and now leave it on my night table. When I wake up, it’s the first thing I see, and the fact that it’s so short helps me feel like I’m setting up my day for success before I even begin.
Am I completely cured? Am I always happy now? No! Of course not. But this two-minute, research-based morning practice has massively improved the quality of my days.
I will let go of…
I am grateful for…
I will focus on…
I hope you give it a try.
And I hope it does the same for you.
I originally wrote a slightly different version of this article for Harvard Business Review.
Take More Pictures: The counterintuitive way to build resilience
When I was researching my book on resilience, I discovered something so obvious it blew me away.
I think I was around nine years old when my dad bought me the Complete Major League Baseball Statistics, a frayed paperback with a green cover. I treasured it and kept it in my room for years. I flipped through it so many times.
As I paged through the numbers, I started noticing something interesting. Cy Young had the most wins of all time in baseball (511). He also had the most losses (316). Nolan Ryan had the most strikeouts (5714), and the most walks (2795).
Why would the guy with the most wins also have the most losses?
Why would the guy with the most strikeouts also have the most walks?
It’s simple—they just played the most.
They tried the most and moved through loss the most.
When everything rests on the numbers
Sometimes, achieving something really is about quantity over quality not the other way around. I’ve asked wedding photographers how they manage to capture such perfect moments. They all say the same type of thing: “I just take way more pictures. I’ll take a thousand pictures over a three-hour wedding. That’s a picture every 10 seconds. Of course I’m going to have 50 good ones. I’m throwing 950 pictures away to find them!”
Sometimes, when I’m doing Q&A after a speech, someone asks me a question along the lines of “So, congratulations on the success of The Book of Awesome. My question is: How do I get paid millions to write about farting in elevators?”
To me, this is like asking, “So you won the lottery. How do I win the lottery, too?”
I always answer the same way, with a reply I stole from Todd Hanson, former head writer at The Onion. He said that whenever someone asks him the question “So how do I get a job writing jokes for money like you did?” he gives a straightforward answer:
“Do it for free for 10 years.”
We cannot hack our way to success
Today, we’re surrounded by tales of companies with million-dollar valuations that grow at lightning-fast rates. We hear about tiny startups that Google acquires for billions of dollars, just a few months after launch. We want to read about the fastest way to get a six-pack or accelerate our careers. But ultimately, what we want to find—quick fixes, easy answers, shortcuts—isn’t there.
Some things take time. They take time. They just take time. It’s not about the number of hits but rather the number of times you step up to the plate. The most important questions to ask yourself are:
Am I gaining experience?
Will these experiences help?
Can I afford to stay on this path for a while?
Sometimes? No. Other times? Yes. And either way you’ll help yourself see that you are learning, doing, and moving—even if that means lots of failure on the way.
“I’m a big fan of poof”
Seth Godin, bestselling author of over 20 books, offered similar advice in an interview with Tim Ferriss: “The number of failures I’ve had dramatically exceeds most people’s, and I’m super proud of that. I’m more proud of the failures than the successes because it’s about this mantra of ‘Is this generous? Is this going to connect? Is this going to change people for the better? Is it worth trying?’ If it meets those criteria and I can cajole myself into doing it, then I ought to.”
And in and interview with Jonathan Fields on Good Life Project, he said, “I’m a big fan of poof.” What’s poof? The idea that you try and if it’s not working—poof. You go try something else.
I’m writing this article as part of my research, lessons, and ideas on resilience in You Are Awesome. That book came out over a year ago now. Is it a hit? Is it a flop? Honestly, it almost doesn’t matter. Because, either way, the only choice I have is to move on to the next thing.
Sure, I want it to succeed. But I can’t determine that. All I get to do is take more pictures. All I get to do is keep going with my next book, next talk, next project, next whatever, whether this one is a hit or goes poof.
You need to do the same.
Success stories are not stories of success
We need to stop looking at successful people with the lens that their lives contain a success that led to a success that led to another success. Because you know what we’re really looking at? Not success, not really. Just people who are just really good at moving through failures.
Moving through failures, swimming through failure, recovering and going forward from failure? That’s the real success. Successful people get to where they’re going because they are willing to try something when the possibility of failure is high … they know and accept that and don’t shy away from it.
So when it comes to long-term success, remember it’s not how many home runs you hit. It’s how many at-bats you take. The wins will only pile up if you keep stepping up to the plate.
This is an edited excerpt from You Are Awesome: How To Navigate Chance, Wrestle with Failure, and Live and Intentional Life
'Television' by Roald Dahl
Written by Roald Dahl (Source: All Poetry)
Context:
We think being glued to smartphones is normal. It's not. But we should have seen it coming!
I love this classic Roald Dahl poem "Television"...I feel like it pretty much still applies even though it was written 57 years ago.
Poem:
The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set --
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotised by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink --
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!
'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!'
We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?'
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rate and Mr. Mole-
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks-
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something to read.
And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did.
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The Very Best Books I Read in 2020
As the year winds down, I am excited to share my “best of” reading list for 2020. Books are a great distraction right now so I hope you find something for you or a loved one in the titles below.
Happy reading!
20. In Praise of Slow: Challenging the Cult of Speed by Carl Honoré. I bought this book years ago and never found time to read it. Quelle surprise! Still the most common question I get on my reading lists is “How do you find time to read so many books?” My answer in HBR articles here and here. I believe this book is a mirror we all need right now. If you’re feeling pandemic sluggishness this book will smile at you warmly, pat you on the back, and help you settle deeper into your slower, wiser, more meandering self. And if you’re the opposite, if you feel like the treadmill you’re on is cranked to 10, then this book will force you to stop and reflect. Chock full of research and wonderfully narrated by the incredibly warm Carl Honoré in the same “sitting beside you on the bus” style of Quiet or So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed, I felt like this was the book I have needed for years. It's time to slow down and read this wonderful book.
19. The Old Man by Sarah V & Claude K. Dubois. Homeless rates are spiking. The parks are full of tents and there are more people on the streets where we live. This simple but striking kids book with beautiful watercolor art explores homelessness with great compassion. A man wakes up wet and freezing in the morning. He rummages through trash cans looking for food. He sees a mail carrier and remembers he used to be one. He goes to a shelter but can’t remember his name when he’s asked so he leaves. He’s kicked out of a park. He’s offered a sandwich and a smile from a little girl. The book is marketed to 5-7 year olds but I think anybody would love it. Published by the independent Gecko Press based in Wellington, New Zealand. I linked to them above but it should be sold everywhere.
18. Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith & Art by Madeleine L’Engle. I admit whenever I hear a book described as “a meditation on…” I sort of hear it as “a bunch of loose, semi-coherent rambles on…” This book completely changed my view. It is indeed a meditation but it’s the furthest thing from loose and semi-coherent. With the powerful high beamed mind of Madeleine L’Engle (probably best known for A Wrinkle In Time) the book dives down into the deeper, colder, darker waters far below other well-structured or well-researched or well-organized books to explore, really meaningfully explore, the murky depths underpinning those massive overlapping circles of faith and art. As you read the book you’ll feel connected to a wise, patient, enlightened guide calmly and patiently showing you the meaning of all things. Mandatory reading for anyone creating art in any way. Most of us! Closest book I can compare it to would be The War of Art by Steven Pressfield but I liked this one more. (Note: This is one of creative wonder Brad Montague’s most formative books. I had a lovely chat with Brad here.)
17. The Body: A Guide For Occupants by Bill Bryson. “In a world deluged by irrelevant information, clarity is power,” says historian and philosopher Yuval Noah Harari, author of Sapiens. I was thinking about that quote while reading this incredible top to bottom look at our fleshy homes. The early chapters on “The Brain” and “The Head” alone are worth much more than the price of admission here. Short excerpt: “Don’t forget that your genes come from ancestors who most of the time weren’t even human. Some of them were fish. Lots more were tiny and furry and lived in burrows…. We would all be a lot better off if we could just start fresh and give ourselves bodies built for our particular Homo sapiens needs – to walk upright without wrecking our knees and backs, to swallow without heightened risk of choking, to dispense babies as if from a vending machine. But we weren’t built for that. We began our journey through history as unicellular blobs floating about in warm, shallow seas.” And it goes from there.
16. Walkable City: How downtown can save America, one step at a time by Jeff Speck. Who else has had a big walking year? Maybe the most walking you’ve ever done? I love five-hour walks and I try and spend a day or two a week going untouchable and bringing out my inner flâneur. I loved this book about walkability and its power to completely transform our health, our planet, our economies, and our communities. Jeff Speck presents The General Theory of Walkability which explains how, ‘to be favored, a walk has to satisfy four main conditions: it must be useful, safe, comfortable, and interesting’ and calls pedestrians ‘an extremely fragile species, the canary in the coal mine of urban liveability.’ I have no idea how urban living will change post-pandemic but we spread ourselves too far from one another at our peril. As Jane Jacobs said “By its nature, the metropolis provides what otherwise could be given only by traveling; namely, the strange.” Cheers to living in strange, dense, and surprising environments for decades to come. (PS. Anne Bogel tipped me off to this book in my last live 3 Books chapter before the pandemic. We recorded in Union Square and then inside The Strand in Manhattan. I was then lucky enough to get Jeff to come on the podcast to help push the pleasures of pedestrian propinquity.)
15. Bad Feminist: Essays by Roxane Gay. Roxane Gay’s writing flows like a river: calm, smooth, burbling, and then you hit the rocks. She offers accessible welcome mats into complex and thorny issues like her essay “What We Hunger For” on the emotional trauma of sexual abuse told through her love of The Hunger Games. (That full essay is online here.) The essays are short, easy to read, and have a huge range of topics as one moment you’re hearing what it feels like to be a typical first year professor and the next you’re discussing the issues with Sweet Valley High or Django Unchained. Playboy calls her 'the most important and most accessible feminist critic of our time' and she’s also the #2 ranked best reviewer on all of GoodReads. Check out my recent conversation with Roxane on lessons in love and the lethal lure of likeability.
14. The Invisible Pyramid by Loren Eiseley. Naturists, anthropologists, environmentalists, philosophers, teachers, lend me your ears. This is the book for you! Loren Eiseley lived from 1907 to 1977 and is listed as all of those things in his online biography. Those diverse backgrounds and experiences come together wonderfully in this powerful series of essays offering a sense of wild vertigo as Loren masterfully zooms us across spacetime to give us a sense of place in the cosmos. Did you ever read that “Pale Blue Dot” passage by Carl Sagan? I wrote about it in The Happiness Equation. If you liked that passage, you’ll love this this series of lectures Eiseley delivered at the University of Washington in 1969. It was just after the moon landing and these lectures tap right into the interstellar dreaming zeitgeist of the time. I feel like this is the book I was always hoping to find whenever I picked up A Brief History Of Time by Stephen Hawking which I could not work my way through. A great book for people who loved The Power of Myth by Joseph Campbell.
13. Black Beauty by Anna Sewell. While lying in bed as an invalid in the 1870s, Anna Sewell wrote this book. She died five months later but was alive long enough to see the book take off en route to becoming the worldwide classic. A wonderful first-horse view of life from the mid-1800s which includes many simple and profound lessons about kindness, friendship, and animal rights. This is the book that first opened Temple Grandin’s eyes to animal rights issues before her many decades fighting for their quality of life. If you don’t know much about Temple Grandin, she's just incredible. I'd recommend starting with the award-winning film starring Claire Danes and then listen to my chat with her on mixing minds making magic.
12. The Boy & The Bindi by Vivek Shraya. I was listening to an interview with Vivek and the host asked which words she uses to identify herself. It was a long list! Artist, trans, queer, bi, person of color, brown. I first found Vivek when her book I’m Afraid of Men jumped out to me at a bookstore. I found it brave, challenging, and mind-expanding on a lot of levels. This children’s book is a rhyming story of a young boy who takes interest in his mom’s bindi. It’s an activist and gender creative book that doesn’t slip into the trappings of trying to argue gender norms but simply allows a young boy’s curiosity towards a traditionally female-sporting dot to grow into a natural love. Pairs well with I Love My Purse by Belle Demont. Listen to Vivek trashing traditional trans tropes here.
11. Poor Charlie’s Almanack: The Wit & Wisdom of Charles T. Munger by Charles T. Munger. Shane Parrish of Farnam Street and The Knowledge Project told me to buy this book and I admit I groaned when I picked it up. Seriously? The multibillionaire longtime partner of Warren Buffet compiles a giant 500 page trophy to his accomplishments? But then I opened it and couldn’t stop flipping around. It’s chock full of wonderful commencement speeches, book recommendations, and his famous mental models. One of the densest compendiums of wisdom you’ll find. If you know very little about Charlie Munger (as I did) this article is a great place to start. If you’re intrigued from there, I’d highly recommend this book.
10. Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie. I walked into The Mysterious Bookshop earlier this year and said “I don’t know any mysteries! What’s your best gateway drug?” and the bookseller passed me this book. “Really?,” I thought. “Agatha Christie?” Turns out she’s sold two billion books for a reason. (Tied with Shakepeare for #1 fiction sales of all-time. No biggie.) When the elegant Orient Express is stopped by snowfall a murder is discovered and Hercule Poirot’s trip home is interrupted to solve the crime. After a slow start out of the station with fifty pages of mood and landscape setting, this book took off like a bullet train. It kept me up reading night after night.
9. Peaceful Parent, Happy Kids: How To Stop Yelling and Start Connecting by Dr. Laura Markham. Do you yell at your kids? I do. And then I feel terrible afterwards. It’s embarrassing. What am I doing? How do I let my buttons get pushed by a three year old refusing to put on his shoes? Enter this book. Dr. Laura Markham’s work is deeply empathetic, connected, and loving. I can confidently say this book has turned me into a better father by offering a simple three-step approach to be a more peaceful parent. Step 1. Regulating Yourself, Step 2. Fostering Connection, and Step 3. Coaching not Controlling. She says that discipline never (never!) works and offers many solutions using games and connection to coach behavior instead. I also recommend Dr. Laura’s fantastic newsletter and I was lucky to sit down with her in her living room in Brooklyn to discuss prioritizing presence to parent peacefully.
8. The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison. I can’t recall a book this emotionally and racially charged since I read To Kill A Mockingbird when I was 15 years old. And I liked this one better. Toni Morrison died last summer at 88 years old after winning a Pulitzer Prize, Nobel Prize, and a slew of other awards. This is her very first book, published in 1970, and she didn’t become well known for years afterwards. I loved imagining that when I read it. Her first book! Released without fanfare! It all takes place in Northern Ohio after the Great Depression and tells the story of a young black girl in an abusive family told from the point of view of another girl in her class. Some reviewers say the book could be triggering for people who have suffered physical abuse so I’ll leave you with that warning. (It has been banned a lot.) But if you are up for an enchanting book that sets your mind firmly somewhere else while sharing a briskly paced story with an unbelievably poetic voice … I highly recommend this.
7. Berlin by Jason Lutes. I remember visiting my friend Chris Kim at his Boston apartment years ago when he passed me his copy of Maus by Art Spiegelman. That OG graphic novel about the holocaust completely blew me away. I sadly never had a chance to return it so it sits on my shelf and has since been joined by work by artists like Alison Bechdel, Adrian Tomine, and Chris Ware. However, I am almost positive I’ve never read a graphic novel with the level of emotional, character, and plot complexity of this nearly 600-page wonder. I am not surprised Jason Lutes spent 22 years writing and illustrating it. (22 years!) If you’re like me, the graphic novel will take 50-100 pages to get into as new people and storylines keep popping out of nowhere but once you get a loose grasp on the dozens of characters you will truly get lost in it. Berlin was the progressive center of Europe during the Weimar Republic of 1918-1933 where ‘creativity, political thought, and sexual liberty burned bright before being snuffed out under the boot heel of fascism.’ If you have a craving to walk onto the Holodeck right now, press a button, and live somewhere completely different for a while, this is the book for you. I am already excited to read it again.
6. Halfbreed by Maria Campbell. A coming of age memoir by playwright, filmmaker, and Métis Elder Maria Campbell on her experience growing up in the middle of Canada through the 1940s and 50s. Originally published in 1973 with “missing pages” detailing her rape at the hands of the RCMP, the 2019 edition (pictured) has been restored with full manuscript as well as a breathtaking Afterword written by Campbell last year. Much First Nations history shared through memorable exchanges with Maria’s 104-year-old (!) Cree great-grandmother Cheechum and braided with bleakness, horror, and revelation. A story I can’t stop thinking about.
5. Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on love and life from Dear Sugar by Cheryl Strayed. Cheryl Strayed was the victim of severe abuse as a child, lost her mother in her early 20s, became addicted to heroin, and then walked alone up the Pacific Crest Trail for three months over more than a thousand miles. Somewhere along the way she developed the incredible superpower to see inside people’s souls and conjure up potions to heal their rawest wounds. She wielded this superpower in the form of anonymously writing a column called “Dear Sugar” for an online literary magazine called The Rumpus about a decade ago. This book is a collection of those columns and they will completely shatter you as she somehow manages to solve the question people didn’t ask her every single time. Here’s an example to give you a taste.
4. Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH by Robert C O’Brien. Mrs Frisby is a mouse with problems. She’s a recent widow after her husband was eaten by the cat. Her son Timothy is bedridden with a nasty chest cold. And the farmer is going to plough the field she lives on in two days which will destroy her home. Cue an epic 48-hour adventure involving flying crows, wise owls, dangerous cats, and genius rats. Completely absorbing. Beautifully written. And can you recall any other book with a single mother of four as the star of the show? The back says it’s for ages 8-11 but I think we can safely stretch that up many more decades. This is one of poet Nikki Giovanni’s three most formative books.
3. Lie With Me by Philippe Besson. Translated from French by Molly Ringwald. “Yes, that Molly Ringwald,” read the handwritten cue card on the Staff Picks wall at Toronto indie bookstore Type Books. That’s where I was first introduced to this gem about a hidden love affair between two teenage boys in rural France in 1984 which time warps from the past to today told as a first-person memory by the author. That summary means nothing, though. This book will squeeze your heart in many ways and I think could have the most exquisite final page of any novel I’ve ever read. André Aciman, author of Call Me By Your Name, says “Two young men find each other, always fearing that life itself might be the villain standing in their way. A stunning and heart-gripping tale.” This book is a true masterpiece.
2. When More Is Not Better: Overcoming America’s Obsession with Economic Efficiency by Roger L. Martin. Do you feel like the whole system is rigged? Like there’s nothing you can do to really get ahead or help affect true change? This is the book to read. It masterfully zooms up into the stratosphere of the entire democratic capitalist system we live in and pulls back the curtain on all the junky, rusted-out parts inside. Roger Martin was Dean of the Rotman School of Management for a good decade and a half and named the world’s #1 management thinker by Thinkers50. I’ve followed his strategy books over the years (Playing To Win, The Opposable Mind) but I think this is his best book. This book calls shenanigans on, well, nearly everything, and then outlines refreshing approaches on how to fix it. Most business books spend 300 pages outlining the problem and 50 pages on the solution. This book is the opposite. All ideas are filed under go-dos for business execs, political leaders, educators, and citizens. As an example, educators should temper the inclination to teach certainty, stop teaching reductionism as if it’s a good thing, help students appreciate the power of directly observable data, and elevate the appreciation of qualities (over quantities). Citizens should ‘multihome’ by consciously spending money away from the monopolists to avoid the deep structural and customer abusive situations that follow. (Another great argument for supporting independent bookstores.) Each point is backed by numbers and tightly screwed into lean and logical prose.
1. Utopia Avenue by David Mitchell. I’m going to come right out and say I think David Mitchell is the greatest novelist alive. He’s probably most famous for Cloud Atlas which is six Russian-dolled novellas spanning centuries with a connected soul. An easier entry point may be Black Swan Green which is the wonderful coming-of-age tale of a 13-year-old stutterer growing up in 1980s England. Or you can walk in through A Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet, a historical fiction masterpiece set in Japan in the late 1700s. If the range between books isn’t enough there’s also a broader multiverse at play connecting all his books through characters and their relatives taking on different identities and forms across centuries. Sounds overwhelming? Maybe in concept but not in execution. As David says: “Art should be an anti-snobbery force.” Every David Mitchell book sends you somewhere else in vivid and often vertiginous ways. (No wonder five of his books have been long- or short-listed for the Man Booker and TIME has called him one of the world’s 100 Most Influential People.) Utopia Avenue is his newest and it tells the story of a British psychedelic folk band formed in SoHo in 1967. The story twists, turns, and then hits hyperdrive in the final act. It’s all woven so deeply into history that it really feels like you can hear the band playing. I promise you won’t want the music to end.
The 5 Greatest Regrets of the Dying and How to Avoid Them
How overwhelming is your life right now?
I'm guessing you're in the washing machine with the rest of us.
When I'm spinning in the heavy duty cycle I find myself reaching out to touchstones that have helped ground and center myself again and again. Like what? Like revisiting 7 science-backed ways to be happy right now, 7 ways to calm my mind and sleep better or and, yes, the 5 greatest regrets of the dying.
Bronnie Ware is an Australian palliative nurse who spent years taking care of the dying in the last three months of their lives.
“When questioned about any regrets they had or anything they would do differently,” she says, “common themes surfaced again and again.”
She eventually put together the five most common regrets from people moments away from their last breath and posted it on her blog. It went viral, and the story was picked up by The Guardian and The Daily Mail, among others.
So what were the greatest regrets she heard from patient after patient? Didn’t make enough money? Didn’t work enough hours? Not enough vacations? Not enough homes? No. Not even close. The 5 Greatest Regrets of the Dying are:
I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me
I wish I hadn't worked so hard
I wish I had the courage to express my feelings
I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends
I wish that I had let myself be happier
Every time I read this list I am stunned into silence for a minute. I think how many of these regrets I would have if I died today. I look at how I'm spending my time today, this week, this month and see if there are things I can adjust to make sure I'm focusing on the right things. There always are so the list serves as inspiration.
I also always feel like this entire list relates to authenticity. That's ultimately how you avoid these regrets. It’s all about being you and being cool with it. Being honest with yourself and honest with others. I would argue if you’re being yourself, if you're being authentic, then:
You do live a life true to yourself
You do overvalue your time and find a job that fits your life
You do recognize and express your feelings
You do keep in touch with your friends
You do let yourself be happier
Being you removes regrets from your life.
Authenticity removes regrets from your life.
So use the 5 greatest regrets of the dying to briefly escape your washing machine mind. Forget about whatever your cell phone's yelling at you, forget about your overwhelming to-do list, and take a minute to stop and listen to the crowdsourced sum of thousands of people on the edge of existence shouting desperately back to you with what's really important.
7 ways to calm your mind and sleep better
How’s your sleep?
Mine’s been shot lately.
Some nights I find myself tossing and turning and just can’t turn off my brain. Some nights an anxious chest fluttering will helpfully pop out of nowhere jussssst before bed. Other nights I fall into a deep sleep just fine before waking up perky and refreshed at 2:27am.
I suppose I have never slept that much.
I fell asleep when I was tired. I woke up when I wasn’t. I kept moving. Honestly, what’s the big deal? I agreed with the philosophy of Wait But Why author Tim Urban who said on 3 Books: “Sleep is boring. Being awake is fun.”
But these days that type of thinking gets you in hot water. We seem to have all agreed, yet again, that 7-8 hours of sleep is best and if you aren’t getting that much you’re not far from the guy who never wears a seatbelt. You are a menace to yourself! How can you put yourself at risk when we know children who sleep less are more likely to be obese, lack of sleep results in horrible immune function, and, my favorite, sleeping less than seven hours a night means you’re 12% more likely to have a premature death and sleeping more than eight hours a night means you’re 30% more likely to have a premature death.
NO PRESSURE!
My point is on top of lack of sleep we’re carrying around anxiety about lack of sleep.
The other day I looked back in my journals and realized that I have gone through bouts of low sleep for pretty much forever. It’s the reason I posted 1000 blog posts at 12:01am for 1000 weekdays in a row. In the years after my divorce this practice was originally a sleep aid, too.
And it did help.
But what about now?
Well, after looking back in my journals I also realized I have devised a series of tiny sleep tools, practices, and habits that help me get to sleep during periods of low sleep. (Note I don’t want to call it “poor sleep” or “bad sleep” and be judgmental about it. I think only you know how much sleep you really need and what works for you.)
But whenever I’m in a period of low sleep relative to what I want to be getting I try one of these.
Here are seven ways to calm your mind and sleep better:
7. Read something written over 1000 years ago. Our entire lives are shorter than a flash of lightning on a December night in the long year of eternity. I find it helps me get out of my own head to connect with a voice speaking to me from long, long ago. There is a helpful perspective in recognizing that your present reality isn’t the be all or end all ... of anything. Others have wrestled and processed similar issues many, many times before. Some may find comfort in the Bible, Quran, or Vedas. For me my go-to bedside table books are On The Shortness of Life by Seneca, Letters from a Stoic also by Seneca, and The Art of Living by Epictetus. Lately I’ve also been enjoying The Essential Rumi which is a measly 700 years old but we can say it still counts.
6. Clean up your Bedside Window. What’s your Bedside Window? Everything you can see from your bed that’s messy. For me that's my bedside table and dresser. What happens? Well, without regular pruning, my bedside table can quickly look like a library threw up. Tipsy piles of books, homemade bookmarks from my kids, pens and cue cards everywhere. And my dresser somehow becomes an empty chest of drawers underneath a sloppy pile of clothes. My sleep is a lot better when I take five minutes to straighten, tidy, and clean up my Bedside Window.
5. Perform an intense 1 minute workout. Does your body shift into a sort of low-grade state of slow-moving, stomach-bubbling lethargy before bed? That happens to me. The energy dial goes from a 10 during the day to a 7 at dinner to a 5 when I’m putting my kids to bed to a 3 when I’m brushing my teeth. So what’s the problem? It gets stuck at 3. It never gets to a 0. How do I twist the knob all the way down? An intense one-minute workout. Even the name makes it sound doable. It’s just one minute! Imagine you’re a car with a few tiny fumes of gas left in the tank. Want to go to bed on a slow cruise full of big turns and quiet idling? No, you need to run out of gas to come to a full and complete stop. How? By hitting the gas. Here are three 1-minute workouts to hit the gas and putter out before bed:
i) jumping jacks x 10, pushups x 10, jumping jacks x 10, pushups x 10
ii) squats x 10, lunges x 10, squats x 10, lunges x 10
iii), triceps x 10 (hang off a chair by your elbows and lift ), crunches x 10, triceps x 10, crunches x 10
(PS. For bonus points, roll a few stressed out muscles on a lacrosse ball when you’re done.)
4. Hang a perspective-setting image near your bed. Have you heard the story of Jerry Seinfeld hanging a Hubble telescope photo of distant galaxies up on the writing room wall during Seinfeld. Why? Because it helped destress the place. Who can stay fritzed out wording a black and white cookie joke when you know what? In the grandest scheme of things: You don’t matter. When discussing the famous image of the pale blue dot Carl Sagan said “Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light.” (longer quote here) A big image that grounds and centers you can help you zoom out of today and focus on something bigger. Right now Leslie and I have an image of our hands holding to remind us we always have each other. Is it a photo of a grandparent who believed deeply in you and gives you strength in yourself? A picture of your favorite place to watch the sunset? Or one of your child laughing to remind you of what matters?
3. Pick bedtime novels based on pacing: Years ago my friend Shiv told me she read one David Sedaris essay before bed every night. I remember thinking that was strange. But then I tried it. His words really do have the perfect pacing to lull me to sleep. We don’t talk about pacing in books enough but I think it’s the most important factor in a before bed book. A slow-paced book calms down a fast-paced life. Here are ten books I’ve found to be perfectly paced before bed:
The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway
The History of Love by Nicole Krauss
To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee
Norwegian Wood by Huraki Murakami
Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng
Gilead by Marilynne Robinson
The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Expury
The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
Naked by David Sedaris
Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder
2. Buy a really expensive pillow that fills with water or braided horse hair or something. I’m kidding. Don’t do this. Everyone says you should and I’ve fallen into this trap a few times. At first I’m excited. “My sleep savior has arrived!” or “I have finally found the ultimate sleep hack!” But two nights later I’m tossing and turning. Same with fancy eye masks, creams, or anything that promises quick results. If you want it dark, sure, go ahead, buy a cheap mask from a dollar store. But don’t pour money into fancy pillows, masks, or other hacky tricks that don’t work on the underlying issue of calming down or relaxing your mind. That’s what we’re really aiming for here. I need to repeat #2 so this one doesn’t count.
2. Make a Brain Billboard. Be honest with yourself and ask what deep seeded fear is taking hold in your brain stem and rattling you awake whenever you are mildly conscious. I mean the really deep thing. Are you paranoid about money? Love? Connection? We all have fears. They aren’t necessarily rational or logical or even real when we wake up the next day. But they can grab you at night when you’re in your weaker, lower resilience moments and claw at your mind. What’s the solution? Make a little Brain Billboard that addresses the fear directly. Write it like a loving note from your wiser self. Take a cue card, fold it in half, write down the ‘billboard’ to address your fear, and place it on your bedside table. That way it’s the last thing you see before bed and the first thing you see in the morning. So, for example, if you have a fear of money make something like that:
1. Do Two-Minute Mornings or AhhLife. I normally start my day by filling out the three simple prompts in Two-Minute Mornings: “I will let go of…”, “I am grateful for…”, and “I will focus on…” But my wife Leslie has always done it at night. Why? Well, in two minutes before bed she extricates a fear, focuses her mind on positives, and write a focus for tomorrow. Does it need to be Two-Minute Mornings specifically? Of course not. In this video I share how I surround myself with journaling opportunities to pick away at the mental plaque that builds over the day. One of the best is the free email journaling service Ahhlife.com. You get to set the date and frequency you want your email journaling prompt to arrive so I set mine for Monday, Wednesday, and Friday nights at 9pm. Why? Well, because if I’m awake when I get the email it doubles as a go-to-bed reminder. And, if I’m awake and overthinking something I just reply to the email and journal out the plaque. What anger am I feeling? What frustration feels overwhelming? What happened that set me off? It doesn’t need to make sense. It doesn’t need to be rational or any kind of fine prose because it will never be displayed in the Library of Letters erected in your honor after you die. Nobody will read it! It’s just a place to put the thing that may be keeping you up so that it isn’t simmering inside you when you hit the pillow.
So there you have it!
7 ways to calm your mind and sleep better.
What do you do that isn't on the last?
Just let me know on Twitter.
#985 Being really proud of yourself for using a bit less toilet paper than usual
"Thank you, tomato." ⠀
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That's what I said while carefully circle-cutting all the wet pink flesh and smooth red skin away from the hard core at the top of my little tomato nub at breakfast the other day. ⠀
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"Thank you for giving me every single edible molecule in your body."⠀
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Then I threw the core in the compost, awkwardly balanced the juicy trapezoidal prisms on top of my melted cheddar and fried egg, and then bit into my sandwich feeling a bit smug.⠀
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I admit I normally slice up just the tomato torso before tossing everything else away. "That would take five seconds of work," I must have thought the first few times, before I stopped thinking about it altogether, before I stopped noticing it at all. ⠀
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But now a giant magnifying glass far beyond the Milky Way is panning across the universe for a closeup on our species. And now I'm suddenly asking, and I'm sure you're asking too: What things do we do that no longer make sense to you? ⠀
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Did you really need to flush?⠀
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Do we really need to rush?⠀
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Can we let our thoughts unhush?⠀
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And live with a little less stuff? ⠀
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AWESOME!
#992 Someone sending you a good idea on how to distract your kids for a solid hour
"We got a good one," Alec said.⠀
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It was almost 11pm and I was wearing a mask standing on the sidewalk about fifteen feet down from him as he sat on a lawn chair on his front porch. Spring blooms lined the path which led about ten feet up to where he sat facing me and the street behind me. I felt a bit like I was suddenly alone in the throne room of a castle about to hear a piece of wisdom from the wise old king. ⠀
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Sidewalks up and down the street were empty. TV screens kaleidoscoped like the northern lights through living room curtains. Flickering streetlights cast a dim yellow shadow over our faces. It felt like the throne room was surrounded by giant stained-glass windows while a lightning storm raged down outside. ⠀
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"Danielle and I both had morning meetings at work so we asked our boys to organize the basement like a zoo. They made tickets, got dressed up, and had to classify and set up all their toys and stuffed animals by habitat. You know, reptile house, boreal forest, Asia pavilion, 'mythical creatures', whatever."⠀
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I loved the idea and looked up at him for the big payoff. ⠀
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He knew I wanted it.⠀
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He waited a moment. ⠀
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And then he smiled. ⠀
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And it finally came. ⠀
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"It took them the whole morning!" ⠀
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AWESOME!
How to Cut All Meeting Time in Half
In November 1955 a strange article appeared in The Economist by an unknown writer named C. Northcote Parkinson. Readers who started skimming the article, titled “Parkinson’s Law,” were met with sarcastic, biting paragraphs poking sharp holes in government bureaucracy and mocking ever-expanding corporate structures. It was searing criticism masked as an information piece. It began innocently enough with the following paragraph:
“It is a commonplace observation that work expands so as to fill the time available for its completion. Thus, an elderly lady of leisure can spend the entire day in writing and dispatching a postcard to her niece at Bognor Regis. An hour will be spent in finding the postcard, another in hunting for spectacles, half-an-hour in a search for the ad dress, an hour and a quarter in composition, and twenty minutes in deciding whether or not to take an umbrella when going to the pillar-box in the next street. The total effort which would occupy a busy man for three minutes all told may in this fashion leave another person prostrate after a day of doubt, anxiety and toil.”
The thesis of the piece was in the first sentence: “It is a commonplace observation that work expands so as to fill the time available for its completion.” Haven’t we heard advice like this before? “The ultimate inspiration is the deadline,” for instance. “If you leave it till the last minute, it takes only a minute to do.” Or how about: “The contents of your purse will expand to fill all available space.”
Think back to bringing homework home from school on the weekends. There was nothing better than a weekend! But the dull pain of having to do a page of math problems and write a book summary loomed like a faint black cloud over Friday night, all day Saturday, and Sunday morning. I remember I would always work on homework Sunday night. But once in a while, if we were going away for the weekend, if I had busy plans on both days, I would actually get my homework done on Friday night. The deadline had artificially become sooner in my mind. And what happened? It felt great. It felt like I had more time all weekend. A fake early deadline created more space.
How do you cut all meeting time in half?
As part of a job I had at Walmart years ago I suddenly took ownership over the company’s weekly meeting for all employees. It was a rambly Friday-morning affair without a clear agenda, presentation guidelines, or timelines, all in front of 1000 people. The CEO would speak for as long as he wanted about whatever he wanted and then pass the mic to the next executive sitting at a table, who would speak as long as he wanted about whatever he wanted, before passing the mic to the next person. It was unpredictable—and starting at 9:00 a.m., it rolled into 10:00 a.m., sometimes 10:30 a.m., and occasionally 11:00 a.m. People would go on tangents. Nobody was concise. And everyone would leave two hours later in a daze, trying to remember all the mixed priorities they heard at the beginning of the meeting.
So I worked with the CEO to redesign the meeting. We created five segments of five minutes each and set up an agenda and schedule of presenters in advance. “The Numbers,” “Outside Our Walls,” “The Basics 101,” “Sell! Sell! Sell!” and “Mailbag,” where the CEO opened letters and answered questions from the audience.
The new meeting was twenty-five minutes long!
And it never went over time once.
How come?
Because I downloaded a “dong” sound effect that we played over the speakers with one minute left, a “ticking clock” sound effect that played with fifteen seconds left, and then the A/V guys actually cut off a person’s microphone when time hit zero. If you hit zero, you would be talking onstage but nobody could hear you. You just had to walk off.
What happened?
Well, at first everybody complained. “I need seven minutes to present,” “I need ten minutes,” “I need much, much longer because I have something very, very important to say.” We said no and shared this quote from a Harvard Business Review interview with former GE CEO Jack Welch:
“For a large organization to be effective, it must be simple. For a large organization to be simple, its people must have self-confidence and intellectual self-assurance. Insecure managers create complexity. Frightened, nervous managers use thick, convoluted planning books and busy slides filled with everything they’ve known since childhood. Real leaders don’t need clutter. People must have the self-confidence to be clear, precise, to be sure that every person in their organization—highest to lowest—understands what the business is trying to achieve. But it’s not easy. You can’t believe how hard it is for people to be simple, how much they fear being simple. They worry that if they’re simple, people will think they’re simpleminded. In reality, of course, it’s just the reverse. Clear, toughminded people are the most simple.”
Then what happened?
Well, with a clear time limit, presenters practiced! They timed themselves. They prioritized their most important messages and scrapped everything else. They used bullet points and summary slides. We introduced the concept by saying “If you can’t say it concisely in five minutes, you can’t say it. By then people doze off or start checking their email.” Have you ever tried listening to someone talk for twenty straight minutes? Unless they are extremely clear, concise, and captivating, it’s a nightmare.
Everybody got a bit scared of their mic cutting off, so the meetings were always twenty-five minutes.
What happened to productivity?
Well, a thousand people saved an hour every week. That’s 2.5% of total company time saved with just one small change.
How do you complete a three-month project in one day?
Sam Raina is a leader in the technology industry. He oversees the design and development of a large website with millions of hits a day. He has more than sixty people working for him. It’s a big team. There are many moving parts. From designers to coders to copy editors. How does he motivate his team to design and launch entirely new pages for the website from scratch?
He follows Parkinson’s Law and cuts down time.
He books his entire team for secret one-day meetings and then issues them a challenge in the morning that he says they’re going to get done by the end of the day. There is only one day to make an entire website! From designing to layout to testing—everything.
Everyone freaks out about the deadline. And then everyone starts working together.
“The less time we have to do it, the more focused and organized we are. We all work together. We have to! There is no way we’d hit the deadline otherwise. And we always manage to pull it off,” Sam says.
By spending a day on a project that would otherwise take months, he frees up everyone’s thinking time, transactional time, and work time. There will be no emails about the website, no out-of-office messages, no meetings set up to discuss it, no confusion about who said what. Everyone talks in person. At the same time. Until it’s done! Sure, in-person isn’t easy in a pandemic, but what meetings are you doing that right that are laddering up into other meetings which are laddering up into other meetings? How can more people be brought together on a larger problem to avoid all the friction in between?
So what’s the counterintuitive solution to having more time?
Chop the amount of time you have to do it.
Look at the left of the graph. The less time available, the more effort you put in. There is no choice. The deadline is right here. Think of how focused you are in an exam. Two hours to do it? You do it in two hours! That deadline creates an urgency that allows the mind to prioritize and focus.
Now look at the right of the graph. The more time available, the less effort we put in overall. A little thought today. Start the project tomorrow. Revisit it next week. We procrastinate. Why? Because we’re allowed to. There is no penalty. Nothing kills productivity faster than a late deadline.
What does C. Northcote Parkinson say about waiting to get it done?
“Delay is the deadliest form of denial,” he says.
Have you ever finished a project on time and then the teacher announces to the class that the deadline has been extended? What a bummer. Now, even though you finished at the original deadline, you get the pain and torture of mentally revisiting your project over and over again until you hand it in. Could it be better? How can we improve it?
Calvin says it best:
Remember: Work expands to fill the time available for its completion.
In the around-the-table weekly Zoom call, in the original 1000 person company meeting, in a normal website-development cycle, what invisible liability do you find? Time. Too much of it.
And work expanding to fill it as a result.
What’s the solution?
Create last-minute panic!
Move deadlines up, revise them for yourself, and remember you are creating space after the project has been delivered.
Do only nerds do their homework Friday night?
Maybe.
But they’re the ones with the whole weekend to party.
This article is adapted from The Happiness Equation
Jack Welch quote is excerpted from “Speed, Simplicity, Self-Confidence: An Interview with Jack Welch” by Noel M. Tichy and Ram Charan, Harvard Business Review, September 1989. Used with permission.
Calvin and Hobbes strip is © 1992 Watterson and reprinted with permission of Universal Uclick. All rights reserved.
#1002 Any dessert in sandwich form
Let’s do this.
It’s time to break down the top six.
6. The Creamy Zebra
I’m talking about that soft rectangle ice cream sandwich melded into the wall of sinusoidal ice shavings near the bottom of your corner store freezer. Push your paws between popsicles and pre-wraps to grab the sticky surprise from the frozen tundra. Next, drop a couple dollars on the counter before slowly undressing the Wax Paper Tuxedo to reveal your naked bounty: jet-black dimpled cookies melted right onto a factory-chopped rectangle of vanilla ice cream that offers one entirely soft consistency with zero texture variation.
5. Illegally Sized Oreos
Painstakingly twist apart as many Oreos as you can, slow-peel the sugary goop off of each one, and then rebuild it into a majestic Oreo full of as much of the white stuff as possible for the ultimate sugar to cookie ratio.
4. The Donut
This is where a freshly fried glazed donut has been sawed in half and stuffed with ice cream, maybe some chocolate, maybe some cinnamon sugar. Yes, it’s an endangered species, but with recent carnival conservation efforts, the donut sandwich is making a comeback. My friend Gillian recently told me about one she ate at a local fair: “It was the hottest, freshest donut,” she began, “and the coldest, creamiest vanilla ice cream.” Her eyes glistened like a honey cruller as she gazed off into the distance. I could tell the donut affected her, moved her in some small way.
3. The Wild Zebra
This is where you pull off the same black-and-white ice-cream sandwich as The Creamy Zebra except it’s made to order at your own house. You buy crunchy cookies. You scoop fresh ice cream. You put them together. It's all you! None of this store bought garbage. It's the difference between seeing a zebra in the zoo and seeing a zebra on the African plains. The zebras may look the same but they taste completely different. That’s not what I mean. Not tastes like you’re eating zebras from the zoo and you’re also like a zebra poacher who shoots and eats zebras in the Serengeti and you know, those poached wild zebras with real developed running muscles and big swooshing tails, yum yum, they taste way better than lazy, diseased, fat old zebras from the zoo who sit around in the wrong climate for twenty years eating hay bales and candy wrappers. I’m not saying that! I didn't shoot any zebras. Nor did you! Nor should you, I mean. I don’t know anything about zebras. What I do know is you should make your own ice cream sandwiches in your own backyard and then never lazily compare them to something they do not resemble in any way at all other than they happen to have the same colors. Clearly.
2. Cake Sandwich
There’s a local burger stand near my house that’s only open in the summer due to their lack of roof. But, when they’re open, it’s a special place, because they have rows of picnic tables, a big bonfire, bean bag tosses, a delicious smoky smell, and servers running around holding burgers, dogs, and fries. And when you’re done they always say: “Would you like an ice cream sandwich?” And you say yes, of course, because hashtag yolo. Then they say “Do you want chocolate chocolate, chocolate vanilla, or vanilla vanilla?” And you pick one without fully getting that they’re about to bring you a giant rectangle of (chocolate or vanilla) frozen birthday cake, sliced across the gut, with a perfect rectangle of (chocolate or vanilla) ice cream gently placed inside like some sort of frozen child tucked into sugary sheets. Everyone’s eyes pop when the masterpiece is set down on the checkered tablecloth and then afterwards the bean bag toss goes into a sort of riled and frenzied triple overtime due to blood glucose levels.
1. The Crazy
This is the one you make at three in the morning in the giggle-till-you-pee-your-pajamas stage of the sleepover. Somebody gets a craving after the Karate Kid marathon but the pizza boxes are just full of crusts and limp green peppers so while your parents sleep upstairs you all slip out of your sleeping bags, pound up the basement steps, flick on the kitchen lights, and pull the waffle iron out of the pantry. Batter splatters, giggles amplify, and a couple burnt forearms later you’re peeling waffle after waffle from the machine. But it doesn’t stop there! Someone sizzles up bacon, maple syrup glug-glugs, and your host finds a leftover stash of Halloween candy. An hour later you’re back into sleeping bags with all your friends leaning around one plate tearing apart a sloppy sandwich full of ice cream, bacon, shaved coconut, and gummy bears. It’s a primal savannah kill short on majesty and long on memories.
Now!
These are just a few dessert sandwich possibilities.
We have come so far but the future is bright, my friends.
One day soon we will achieve the Dessert Sandwich Singularity where combinations merge together seamlessly and we can’t even remember which desserts were ever eaten separately.
Do not be afraid of this progress. Do not be worried.
While there may be job losses at the ice cream parlor or The Cheesecake Factory the truth is our economy is robust and entirely new roles and organizations will be created such as the ice cream cheesecake parlor and The Cheesecake Cold Cut Factory.
Yes, the future will be magnificent.
The future will be glorious.
And we all know it will be truly
AWESOME!
I wrote 1000 Awesome Things from 2008 – 2012 which turned into four books. This is #1002 of The Next 1000.
Why we're so bad at predicting what will happen to us in the future
We all think the way things are now is the way things will continue to be. If you’re flying high, that’s not so bad, but if you’re falling, flailing or treading water like many of us right now, then this is a dangerous tendency.
Here’s how to counteract it.
See the failure you’re going through as a step up an invisible staircase toward a Future You in a Future Life you can’t even imagine yet.
The staircase represents your life so far. And you can’t see up the invisible staircase.
Look down behind you. That part is visible. You can see where you came from. All the steps you already walked up.
Look. There’s the time you moved in fifth grade and got bullied by that goon Adam every day after school.
Remember? That’s when you first picked up a basketball and started practicing with Coach Williams every night.
There’s Francesco, the tattooed chef who chewed you out every shift you showed up late to wash dishes at the seafood place as a teen. It was painful but you learned to be on time.
Prom — remember that disaster? I guess that night helped you realize you were gay.
So many steps up to today. Big steps. Hard steps. But steps all the same.
And what’s next on the staircase?
Well, that’s the problem.
No one knows.
It’s invisible. We can’t see the future. And maybe if that were the only problem, that would be okay. But it isn’t. It gets worse.
Why?
Because according to the research, we actually think we can see up that staircase.
Our brains think, “Oh yeah, sure, I know what’s next in my life.” In reality, we suck at it. Let me explain.
In 2013, Science published a fascinating study conducted by the researchers Jordi Quoidbach, Daniel T. Gilbert and Timothy D. Wilson. They teamed up to measure the personalities, values and preferences of more than 19,000 people ages 18 to 68. In a series of tests, they asked the subjects about two pretty simple things: how much they thought they had changed in the past decade and how much they would change in the next decade.
They used a lot of scientific methods to make sure the data were legit, then they published their results. Academic circles started buzzing. Media outlets clamored to share the results.
Why?
Because the results were mind-blowing.
It turned out that no matter how old the respondents were, they uniformly believed that they had changed a ton in the past but would change little in the future.
What?
Imagine a 30-year-old guy telling the tempestuous story of his last 10 years but figuring his next 10 years would be smooth sailing. Imagine a 50-year-old woman talking about how everything had flip-flopped after she turned 40 but then assuming that at 60, she’d be the same person she was now. That was the case for everybody regardless of age, gender or personality.
We all do it.
We all think that the way things are now is the way things will continue to be.
If you’re flying high, that’s maybe not a bad thing, but if you’re falling, if you’re busted, if you’re heartbroken, if you’re lonely, then this is a dangerous psychological tendency. And we all share it.
When we’re at rock bottom, we are certain that there’s no way up. We think we’ll never get out of our parents’ basement. We think our divorce means we’ll never meet someone new. If we’ve lost our jobs, we think we’ll be scrolling online postings forever.
The researchers called this the “end of history illusion.” We think everything will remain unchanged from here on out.
Why did those researchers study go to the effort of 19,000 people? Gilbert went on NPR’s Hidden Brain and explained, “You know, like everybody, I suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. You know, we have divorces. We have surgeries. We have breakups with women we love and friends we enjoy. So it was sort of ordinary events that befell me all in one year. And I realized that, had you asked me a year earlier how I would be faring, the answer would have been, ‘Oh, my gosh, I’ll be devastated.’ But I wasn’t devastated…. And it made me wonder if I was the only person who was just too stupid to be able to look ahead into his future and figure out how he’d feel if really bad or maybe really good things happened.”
There it is. The invisible staircase.
Even Gilbert, the famed Harvard psychologist and professor, the author of bestselling books such as Stumbling on Happiness, even he forgets that the rest of the staircase is invisible. He went through a flop or two and figured, “Well, darn, my life’s gonna suck forever.” But it didn’t.
Inevitably, everything we go through in life really is a step to help us get to a better place.
It’s hard to see it this way. But we have to, because this study helps us realize we’re prone to catastrophizing. That alone should be enough to zoom backward in your brain and go, “Wait a minute here. I’m tricking myself! Who’s to say I won’t get out of the basement? Meet someone new? Land a plum gig I love?”
See it as a step.
Gilbert ended up figuring out that when it comes to predicting the future, we’re all stupid. Each and every one of us.
Doesn’t that feel better?
This research reminded me of an HR job I had where I had to escort bosses into meeting rooms whenever they had to fire an employee. I was there for paperwork, for witnessing, for emotional support. I was in the room when dozens of people got fired, and it was awful. There were tears and wet tissues and many afternoons when I’d be consoling someone in a freezing parking lot as they loaded up their trunk with framed pictures from their desk saying “I thought I’d be here forever” and “What am I going to do now?” and “I’ll never find another job.”
Those scenes left me heartbroken. I lost a lot of sleep over them.
Sometimes I’d bump into the former employees years later. And what did they tell me? “Getting fired was the best thing that happened to me! If I hadn’t gotten that severance package, I never would have had those crucial six months to spend with my dad before he died.”
Or: “I traveled to Peru and became a nutritional supplement importer, and I love what I’m doing now!”
Or: “I’m working at a smaller company now, and I’ve gotten promoted twice in two years!”
Or: “I used my severance pay to take the time to be with my daughter and son-in-law in the months after her third miscarriage.”
Why did every fired employee tell me this? Why did they all react so positively after some time had passed? How can that happen?
Because we confuse the challenge of picturing change with the improbability of change itself.
We do.
We confuse the challenge of picturing change (“What am I going to do now?”) with the improbability of change (“I’ll never find anything!”).
In other words, you can’t picture yourself changing so you assume that you won’t.
Why?
Because your seeing skills are shit!
And so are mine. So are everyone’s. You think because you can’t see up the staircase there aren’t any more steps. But there are more steps.
And change will come.
It always does.
That’s why it’s so hard to see change as a step. To see this failure, this flop, this difficult life experience as part of a process, as part of a greater whole. It’s hard to see it as a step because you can’t see the next step. And you sure can’t see 10 steps after that.
Why do we always think failure leads somewhere bad? It’s not true. It rarely is. Remember the end of history illusion. Our brains think this is the end. Remember all those people I met after they were fired saying how positive that left turn ended up being?
It’s me, too. How could I have known that failing at P&G would somehow lead us to having the conversation we’re having right now? I couldn’t have. Believe me, I far prefer having this conversation to doing price analysis on eye shadows and mascaras. But when I flamed out there, I pictured myself sleeping in a pile of club sandwich crusts in Cleveland.
So be kind to yourself.
When you’re there, when you’re stewing in the shock of failure and loss, when you’re convinced you’re stuck, when you’re convinced there’s no way forward, just remember: There’s a staircase you’re not seeing. Trust that it’s there, right in front of you, and that it leads to exciting new places. Have the courage to believe in this one thing that you can’t see.
There are so many steps ahead. So many steps. Don’t stop. Shift the spotlight, and keep moving.
It’s very possible and very likely that what you’re going through is a step toward a future you’ll be happy with. But you just can’t see it … yet.
An earlier version of this article was published on TED.com