“Greatness is incompatible with optimizing in the short term. To achieve greatness requires a long view. Raise your time horizon to raise your goal.”
Kevin Kelly’s excellent book continues to deliver so many gems. I needed to be reminded of this one.
A good friend shared a reflection about his priorities recently. He shared that his jar of time over the past 3 years always treated work and family as “big rocks” and everything else as sand. This meant social commitments/nurturing relationships, personal projects, and personal health only got prioritized when there was space.
He talked about the concept of upgrading some of this sand into rocks. For example, it could be as simple as finding time every week for a game of tennis with friends. By making this a clear priority, he’d ensure he’s putting in some effort to maintaining relationships that matter.
My reflections were similar. My big rocks were work and family – with most things falling by the wayside when our kids were infants/toddlers. As they’ve grown, I’ve managed to prioritize my fitness and added it as a big rock.
But there’s still a long list of stuff I don’t get to enough.
Everything can’t be a big rock. But his practice of making sure we carve out space for a few small rocks we schedule around is a good one.
Ultimately, it all comes down to being conscious about trade-offs. And the practice of building in regular routines/practices makes us more conscious of the trade-offs we’re making.
Our level of equanimity tends to be directly proportional to our ability to find humor in difficult situations.
Humor helps bring perspective. Perspective, in turn, inspires equanimity.
It’s been a while since I’ve shared a Morgan Housel post. So I thought I’d share one that I’d bookmarked to share here. It’s titled “What Makes You Happy.”
Ernest Shackleton’s ship, the Endurance, became stuck in Antarctic ice. Before long it was crushed, ruined.
Shackleton and his 27-man crew then spent 19 months – from January 1915 to August 1916 – rowing 800 miles to safety in tiny lifeboats, with nighttime temperatures hitting 10 degrees below zero.
They were constantly frozen, soaked, hungry, and sleep-deprived.
They survived – and all of them did survive – on an occasionally captured seal and foraged seaweed.
It’s one of the most astounding survival stories you’ll ever hear.
But, for me, the most emotional part of the book Endurance came at the end, when Shackleton’s crew finally made it to a whaling station on South Georgia island, 1,600 miles east of Argentina.
Author Alfred Lansing writes:
Every comfort the whaling station could provide was placed at the disposal of Shackleton [and crew]. They first enjoyed the glorious luxury of a long bath, followed by a shave. Then new clothes were given to them from the station’s storehouse.
They were then served a hot meal, and slept for 12 hours.
Can you imagine?
Can you imagine how good it must have felt to have a bath, a hot meal, and a warm bed after being constantly frozen and starving for 19 months?
Even if the water was lukewarm and the food was half stale, that must have been one of the most pleasant and fulfilling evenings anyone has ever experienced.
A weird thing in life is that everyone strives for a good life because they think it will make them happy. But what actually brings happiness is the contrast between what you have now and whatever you were just doing.
The best drink you will ever taste is a glass of tap water when you’re thirsty.
The best food you will ever eat is fast food when you’re starving.
The best massage you will ever feel is sitting on a couch after a long run.
The best sleep you will ever experience is when your newborn finally sleeps through the night.
In his book on the final days of World War II, Stephen Ambrose writes about a wounded American soldier who’s carried back to the medic tent. He knows he’s going home – his war is over. “Clean sheets boys!” he yells back to his fellow soldiers who are left behind. “Clean sheets, can you believe it! Clean sheets!” Living in foxholes made soldiers daydream about normal life, and few things chased their imaginations like the dignity of clean sheets. Not money or status or respect or glory. Just the absolute joy of clean sheets.
Money is a lot like this, too. The richest you’ll probably ever feel is when you get your first paycheck, and your bank account goes from $5 to, perhaps, $500. The contrast that generates might be greater than going from $10 million to $20 million. Going from nothing to something is so much more powerful than going from a lot to super a lot.
The contrast, not the amount, is what makes you happy.
Two things stick out here.
Happiness is a fleeting emotion, because it’s triggered by a contrast in circumstances, but you quickly adapt to whatever new circumstances you’re in. Shackleton’s second hot meal, second bath, and second night’s sleep probably felt 1% as amazing.
But that shouldn’t be depressing. Instead of chasing happiness, which is fleeting, people should be after contentment, which is similar but more enduring.
When you realize how powerful expectations are, you put as much effort into keeping them low as you do into improving your circumstances. Happiness, contentment, joy … all of those things come from experiencing a gap between expectations and reality.
Shackleton’s men learned this. After their ordeal, they found so much joy in little things they’d never before considered. One sailor wrote in his diary: “One of the finest days we have ever had . . . a pleasure to be alive.”
Lansing wrote: “In this lonely world of ice and emptiness, they had achieved at least a limited kind of contentment. They had been tested and found not wanting.”
That’s about as good as it gets.
It all resonated.
I read “The Inner Game of Tennis” by Timothy Gallwey recently. There are 3 core concepts in the book :
One key theme in his anecdotes is about players who “over-coach” themselves. They talk too much to themselves instead of letting themselves just play. The body is an incredibly complex machine – any attempt to micromanage is laughable and counter-productive.
This resonated.
Growing up, I never trained in any sport as we moved homes often. When I was in my 8th grade, I finally got an opportunity to train in table tennis. I loved this and enjoyed training hard for the best part of two years.
I stopped training 2 years in – to focus on academics to go to a good college and because I was too late anyway – I still got the opportunity to participate in a few tournaments in high school during the ensuing years. And I almost always choked. When push came to shove, I seemed to find a way to lose games against players I’d normally be able to beat. Many of these players weren’t as good – but they were seasoned tournament players. And they always had me beat on the mental game.
That’s why Gallwey’s notes hit a nerve. It reminded me of the few times I played my absolute best – it was when I didn’t attempt to control every move.
I’ve been attempting to teach our 5 year old football/soccer recently. This book has changed how I approach it. Previously, I used to try to get him to kick or pass the ball with the right technique. And that would inevitably lead to “over-coaching.”
Instead, I’ve started asking him to simply look at the target and kick. And, in time, when the kicks are good, I ask him to simply remember the feeling and replicate it.
His kicks have gotten better much faster with this approach.
It makes sense. Our bodies are awe-inspiring machines. We often get the best results from giving it body some direction and getting out of the way.
I was looking at my connection requests on LinkedIn the other day.
I do my best to connect with people I’ve met or know in some capacity. But I also do my best to respond to people who write a message.
Roughly 80% of invites come without a personalized message.
Out of the 20% that do come with a message that share some reason for connecting, I always respond with some version of “happy to speak over messages.”
Less than 5% follow up.
I think these numbers are representative of what we see in life. Few make the effort go the extra mile.
And significantly fewer follow up.
Often, the act of following up alone is a stand out act.
It is why 80% of success is just consistently showing up.
Progress is rarely linear.
It is one of the reasons why making real progress is hard. Most give up before things turn around.
‘One of the things that happens is that during sleep, your brain cleans itself of waste that has accumulated during the day.
“During slow-wave sleep, your cerebral spinal fluid channels open up more and remove metabolic waste from your brain,” Roxanne explained to me.
Every night, when you go to sleep, your brain is rinsed with a watery fluid. This cerebrospinal fluid washes through your brain, flushing out toxic proteins and carrying them down to your liver to get rid of them.
“So when I’m talking to college students, I call this brain-cell poop. If you can’t focus well, it might be you have too much brain-cell poop circulating.” | an excerpt from Stolen Focus by Johann Hari
I didn’t realize the term “brainwashing” has a literal equivalent.
My wife always jokes that my response when things feel out of whack is to sleep. I’ve been a big believer in the importance of subconscious processing for a long while. I didn’t realize that all I was seeking was some… brainwashing.
“If you took our top fifteen decisions out, we’d have a pretty average record. It wasn’t hyperactivity, but a hell of a lot of patience. You stuck to your principles and when opportunities came along, you pounced on them with vigor.” | Charlie Munger
Wait for the right ones, and then knock them off the park.
An executive I spoke with once shared a sage piece of career advice – “Don’t swing at every pitch.”
She shared a story about an ambitious colleague who was eager to do more than their current role. In time, an opportunity presented itself. Luckily, this person went to this leader and asked for her advice. She spent a bit of time understanding what he wanted and shared that she didn’t think this was the right fit.
A couple of months later, the same person got another opportunity that completely changed the course of their career.
“Don’t swing at every pitch” is fantastic advice because career transitions are expensive. There are heavy switching costs – so it makes sense that we pay them only when we feel confident that the juice will be worth the squeeze. It pays to be discerning.
Don’t swing at every pitch.
A Learning a Day 