It’s happened to all of
us.
You have a “come to Jesus” moment and decide you need to make changes in
your life. Maybe you need to drop a few pounds (or more), want to pay
off some debt, or desperately long to quit wasting time on the internet.
So you start planning and scheming.
You take to your journal and write out a bold strategy on how you’re
going to tackle your quest for self-improvement. You set big, hairy
SMART goals with firm deadlines. You download the apps and buy the gear
that will help you reach your objectives.
You feel that telltale rush that comes with believing you’re turning
over a new leaf, and indeed, the first few days go great. “This time,”
you tell yourself, “this time is different.”
But then…
You had a long day at work, you just can’t make it to the gym, and by
golly, eating an entire pizza would really make you feel better.
Or an unexpected expense comes up, and your bank account dips back into
the red.
Or you decide you’ve been doing really well with being focused, so
what’s a few minutes of aimless web surfing going to do?
Within a matter of days, your fiery ambition to change yourself is
extinguished. That audacious, airtight plan in your journal? You don’t
even look at it again because along with your goal to lose weight, your
daily journaling goal has also met an untimely demise.
And so you’re back to where you started, only even worse off than
before. Because now you’re not just an overweight, in debt, and easily
distracted man, you’re an overweight, in debt, and easily distracted man
who has failed at not being overweight, in debt, or easily distracted.
The sting of failure can feel like an existential gut punch.
But time heals all wounds. Nature has — for better and worse — blessed
us with terrible memories, so we forget how crappy we felt when we
failed in our last attempt to radically improve ourselves.
Thus, six months later that itch to change yourself returns, and the
whole scenario plays itself out again, like some Napoleon Hill, Think
and Grow Rich-infused version of Groundhog Day.
Getting Off the Roller Coaster of Personal Development
Our quest to become better often feels like a roller coaster ride with
its proverbial ups and downs. By the time you’re headed down
Self-Improvement Mountain for the twentieth time, you’re vomiting out
the side of your cart in self-disgust, cursing yourself that you once
again bought a ticket to ride.
Why are our attempts to better ourselves usually so uneven, and why do
they so frequently end in failure? There are a few reasons:
Focusing on the big goal overwhelms us into inaction. It’s an article of
faith in the world of personal development that you have to make big,
Empire State goals. You don’t just want to dominate in your own life —
you want to dominate the world.
And so you draw up plans for leaving behind the 99% of schmos out there,
and becoming part of the extraordinary 1% — not necessarily as measured
in pure wealth, but in passion, fitness, financial independence, and
number of Machu Picchu pics in your Instagram feed.
But the enormity of your goals ends up overwhelming you into inaction.
What we moderns call “stress” would be better termed “fear”; the
physiological reaction is the same in both emotions. A big, audacious
goal looks to the brain just like a saber-toothed tiger stalking us in
the woods, and the idea of paying off $100K in student loan debt seems
so impossible that it’s actually scary. And when our brain encounters
scary, the old amygdala kicks into fight-flight-freeze mode, and you
assume the position of deer-stuck-in-headlights.
Big, giant goals can be awe-inspiring. But like many awe-inspiring
things — a lion, a black hole, the Grand Canyon — they can also swallow
you whole.
We think a magic bullet will save us. Let’s say that we’re able to
overcome the torpor-inducing effects of aiming for radical personal
change, and we start taking action towards achieving our goals. As
humans are wont to do, instead of just getting right to work doing the
boring, mundane, time-tested things that will bring success, we
typically start looking for “hacks” that will get us the results we want
as fast as possible and with as little work as possible. We want that
magic bullet that will allow us to hit our target right in the bulls-eye
with just one shot.
The danger of looking for a magic bullet is that you end up spending all
your time searching for it instead of actually doing the work that
needs to be done. You scroll through countless blog articles on
productivity, in hopes of discovering that one tip that will make you
superhumanly efficient. You listen to podcast after podcast from people
who earn their living telling people how to make money online, hoping
one day you’ll hear an insight that will unlock your businesses’
potential, so you too can make your living online, telling other people
how to make a living online. You research and find the perfect gratitude
journal so you can be more zen.
The insidious thing about searching for magic bullets is that you feel
like you’re doing something to reach your goals when in fact you’re
doing nothing. Magic bullet hunting is masturbatory self-improvement.
All the pleasure, without the production of metaphorical progeny. Read
more at: http://tr.im/W5Flm
| Get 1% Better Every Day: The Kaizen Way to Self-Improvement |
It’s happened to all of us.
You have a “come to Jesus” moment and decide you need to make changes in your life. Maybe you need to drop a few pounds (or more), want to pay off some debt, or desperately long to quit wasting time on the internet.
So you start planning and scheming.
You
take to your journal and write out a bold strategy on how you’re going
to tackle your quest for self-improvement. You set big, hairy SMART goals with firm deadlines. You download the apps and buy the gear that will help you reach your objectives.
You
feel that telltale rush that comes with believing you’re turning over a
new leaf, and indeed, the first few days go great. “This time,” you
tell yourself, “this time is different.”
But then…
You
had a long day at work, you just can’t make it to the gym, and by
golly, eating an entire pizza would really make you feel better.
Or an unexpected expense comes up, and your bank account dips back into the red.
Or you decide you’ve been doing really well with being focused, so what’s a few minutes of aimless web surfing going to do?
Within
a matter of days, your fiery ambition to change yourself is
extinguished. That audacious, airtight plan in your journal? You don’t
even look at it again because along with your goal to lose weight, your
daily journaling goal has also met an untimely demise.
And
so you’re back to where you started, only even worse off than before.
Because now you’re not just an overweight, in debt, and easily
distracted man, you’re an overweight, in debt, and easily distracted man
who has failed at not being overweight, in debt, or easily distracted. The sting of failure can feel like an existential gut punch.
But
time heals all wounds. Nature has — for better and worse — blessed us
with terrible memories, so we forget how crappy we felt when we failed
in our last attempt to radically improve ourselves.
Thus,
six months later that itch to change yourself returns, and the whole
scenario plays itself out again, like some Napoleon Hill, Think and Grow Rich-infused version of Groundhog Day.
Getting Off the Roller Coaster of Personal Development
Our
quest to become better often feels like a roller coaster ride with its
proverbial ups and downs. By the time you’re headed down
Self-Improvement Mountain for the twentieth time, you’re vomiting out
the side of your cart in self-disgust, cursing yourself that you once
again bought a ticket to ride.
Why
are our attempts to better ourselves usually so uneven, and why do they
so frequently end in failure? There are a few reasons:
Focusing on the big goal overwhelms us into inaction.
It’s an article of faith in the world of personal development that you
have to make big, Empire State goals. You don’t just want to dominate in
your own life — you want to dominate the world.
And
so you draw up plans for leaving behind the 99% of schmos out there,
and becoming part of the extraordinary 1% — not necessarily as measured
in pure wealth, but in passion, fitness, financial independence, and
number of Machu Picchu pics in your Instagram feed.
But
the enormity of your goals ends up overwhelming you into inaction. What
we moderns call “stress” would be better termed “fear”; the
physiological reaction is the same in both emotions. A big, audacious
goal looks to the brain just like a saber-toothed tiger stalking us in
the woods, and the idea of paying off $100K in student loan debt
seems so impossible that it’s actually scary. And when our brain
encounters scary, the old amygdala kicks into fight-flight-freeze mode,
and you assume the position of deer-stuck-in-headlights.
Big,
giant goals can be awe-inspiring. But like many awe-inspiring things — a
lion, a black hole, the Grand Canyon — they can also swallow you whole.
We think a magic bullet will save us.
Let’s say that we’re able to overcome the torpor-inducing effects of
aiming for radical personal change, and we start taking action towards
achieving our goals. As humans are wont to do, instead of just getting
right to work doing the boring, mundane, time-tested things that will
bring success, we typically start looking for “hacks” that will get us
the results we want as fast as possible and with as little work as
possible. We want that magic bullet that will allow us to hit our target
right in the bulls-eye with just one shot.
The danger of looking for a magic bullet
is that you end up spending all your time searching for it instead of
actually doing the work that needs to be done. You scroll through
countless blog articles on productivity, in hopes of discovering that
one tip that will make you superhumanly efficient. You listen to podcast
after podcast from people who earn their living telling people how to
make money online, hoping one day you’ll hear an insight that will
unlock your businesses’ potential, so you too can make your living
online, telling other people how to make a living online. You research
and find the perfect gratitude journal so you can be more zen.
The
insidious thing about searching for magic bullets is that you feel like
you’re doing something to reach your goals when in fact you’re doing nothing. Magic bullet hunting is masturbatory self-improvement. All the pleasure, without the production of metaphorical progeny.
We stop doing the things that helped us improve in the first place. Okay. So let’s say you don’t let the bigness of your goal overwhelm you, and you’re not a chump magic bullet hunter either.
You
get to work. Slowly but surely you start seeing results. You lose five
pounds. You whittle $200 off your debt. You meditate for 20 minutes a
day for a whole week.
You’re having success!
But
in our personal backslapping, we would do well to heed Napoleon’s
warning: “The greatest danger occurs at the moment of victory.”
There’s
a tendency for folks to view self-improvement as a destination. They
think that once you reach your goal, you’re done. You can take it easy.
So when these folks start having some success and things start getting
better in their lives, they stop doing the things that got them to that
point. And so they start backsliding.
I fell into this trap when I was first trying to get a handle on my depression.
I’d take some proactive steps to leash my black dog — meditate, write
in my journal, get outside, etc. As soon as I started to feel better,
I’d think, “Hey! I beat it this time! I’m cured!” So I let up. I stopped
doing the things that helped me feel better in the first place. And of
course, I went back to feeling terrible.
Self-improvement
isn’t a destination. You’re never done. Even if you have some success,
if you want to maintain it, you have to keep doing the things you were
doing that got you that success in the first place.
The Kaizen Effect: Get 1% Better Each Day
“Little strokes fell great oaks.” –Benjamin Franklin
It’s time to get off the self-improvement roller coaster.
To do so, we’re going to embrace the philosophy of small, continuous improvement.
It’s called Kaizen. It sounds like a mystical Japanese philosophy passed down by wise, bearded sages who lived in secret caves.
The
reality is that it was developed by Depression-era American business
management theorists in order to build the arsenal of democracy that
helped the U.S. win World War II. Instead of telling companies to make
radical, drastic changes to their business infrastructure and processes,
these management theorists exhorted them to make continuous
improvements in small ways. A manual created by the U.S. government to
help companies implement this business philosophy urged factory
supervisors to “look for hundreds of small things you can improve. Don’t
try to plan a whole new department layout — or go after a big
installation of new equipment. There isn’t time for these major items.
Look for improvements on existing jobs with your present equipment.”
After
America and its allies had defeated Japan and Germany with the weaponry
produced by plants using the small, continuous improvement philosophy,
America introduced the concept to Japanese factories to help revitalize
their economy. The Japanese took to the idea of small, continual
improvement right away and gave it a name: Kaizen — Japanese for continuous improvement.
While
Japanese companies embraced this American idea of small, continuous
improvement, American companies, in an act of collective amnesia, forgot
all about it. Instead, “radical innovation” became the watchword in
American business. Using Kaizen, Japanese auto companies like Toyota
slowly but surely began to outperform American automakers during the
1970s and 1980s. In response, American companies started asking Japanese
companies to teach them about a business philosophy American companies
had originally taught the Japanese. Go figure.
It’s happened to all of
us.
You have a “come to Jesus” moment and decide you need to make changes in
your life. Maybe you need to drop a few pounds (or more), want to pay
off some debt, or desperately long to quit wasting time on the internet.
So you start planning and scheming.
You take to your journal and write out a bold strategy on how you’re
going to tackle your quest for self-improvement. You set big, hairy
SMART goals with firm deadlines. You download the apps and buy the gear
that will help you reach your objectives.
You feel that telltale rush that comes with believing you’re turning
over a new leaf, and indeed, the first few days go great. “This time,”
you tell yourself, “this time is different.”
But then…
You had a long day at work, you just can’t make it to the gym, and by
golly, eating an entire pizza would really make you feel better.
Or an unexpected expense comes up, and your bank account dips back into
the red.
Or you decide you’ve been doing really well with being focused, so
what’s a few minutes of aimless web surfing going to do?
Within a matter of days, your fiery ambition to change yourself is
extinguished. That audacious, airtight plan in your journal? You don’t
even look at it again because along with your goal to lose weight, your
daily journaling goal has also met an untimely demise.
And so you’re back to where you started, only even worse off than
before. Because now you’re not just an overweight, in debt, and easily
distracted man, you’re an overweight, in debt, and easily distracted man
who has failed at not being overweight, in debt, or easily distracted.
The sting of failure can feel like an existential gut punch.
But time heals all wounds. Nature has — for better and worse — blessed
us with terrible memories, so we forget how crappy we felt when we
failed in our last attempt to radically improve ourselves.
Thus, six months later that itch to change yourself returns, and the
whole scenario plays itself out again, like some Napoleon Hill, Think
and Grow Rich-infused version of Groundhog Day.
Getting Off the Roller Coaster of Personal Development
Our quest to become better often feels like a roller coaster ride with
its proverbial ups and downs. By the time you’re headed down
Self-Improvement Mountain for the twentieth time, you’re vomiting out
the side of your cart in self-disgust, cursing yourself that you once
again bought a ticket to ride.
Why are our attempts to better ourselves usually so uneven, and why do
they so frequently end in failure? There are a few reasons:
Focusing on the big goal overwhelms us into inaction. It’s an article of
faith in the world of personal development that you have to make big,
Empire State goals. You don’t just want to dominate in your own life —
you want to dominate the world.
And so you draw up plans for leaving behind the 99% of schmos out there,
and becoming part of the extraordinary 1% — not necessarily as measured
in pure wealth, but in passion, fitness, financial independence, and
number of Machu Picchu pics in your Instagram feed.
But the enormity of your goals ends up overwhelming you into inaction.
What we moderns call “stress” would be better termed “fear”; the
physiological reaction is the same in both emotions. A big, audacious
goal looks to the brain just like a saber-toothed tiger stalking us in
the woods, and the idea of paying off $100K in student loan debt seems
so impossible that it’s actually scary. And when our brain encounters
scary, the old amygdala kicks into fight-flight-freeze mode, and you
assume the position of deer-stuck-in-headlights.
Big, giant goals can be awe-inspiring. But like many awe-inspiring
things — a lion, a black hole, the Grand Canyon — they can also swallow
you whole.
We think a magic bullet will save us. Let’s say that we’re able to
overcome the torpor-inducing effects of aiming for radical personal
change, and we start taking action towards achieving our goals. As
humans are wont to do, instead of just getting right to work doing the
boring, mundane, time-tested things that will bring success, we
typically start looking for “hacks” that will get us the results we want
as fast as possible and with as little work as possible. We want that
magic bullet that will allow us to hit our target right in the bulls-eye
with just one shot.
The danger of looking for a magic bullet is that you end up spending all
your time searching for it instead of actually doing the work that
needs to be done. You scroll through countless blog articles on
productivity, in hopes of discovering that one tip that will make you
superhumanly efficient. You listen to podcast after podcast from people
who earn their living telling people how to make money online, hoping
one day you’ll hear an insight that will unlock your businesses’
potential, so you too can make your living online, telling other people
how to make a living online. You research and find the perfect gratitude
journal so you can be more zen.
The insidious thing about searching for magic bullets is that you feel
like you’re doing something to reach your goals when in fact you’re
doing nothing. Magic bullet hunting is masturbatory self-improvement.
All the pleasure, without the production of metaphorical progeny. Read
more at: http://tr.im/W5Flm
It’s happened to all of
us.
You have a “come to Jesus” moment and decide you need to make changes in
your life. Maybe you need to drop a few pounds (or more), want to pay
off some debt, or desperately long to quit wasting time on the internet.
So you start planning and scheming.
You take to your journal and write out a bold strategy on how you’re
going to tackle your quest for self-improvement. You set big, hairy
SMART goals with firm deadlines. You download the apps and buy the gear
that will help you reach your objectives.
You feel that telltale rush that comes with believing you’re turning
over a new leaf, and indeed, the first few days go great. “This time,”
you tell yourself, “this time is different.”
But then…
You had a long day at work, you just can’t make it to the gym, and by
golly, eating an entire pizza would really make you feel better.
Or an unexpected expense comes up, and your bank account dips back into
the red.
Or you decide you’ve been doing really well with being focused, so
what’s a few minutes of aimless web surfing going to do?
Within a matter of days, your fiery ambition to change yourself is
extinguished. That audacious, airtight plan in your journal? You don’t
even look at it again because along with your goal to lose weight, your
daily journaling goal has also met an untimely demise.
And so you’re back to where you started, only even worse off than
before. Because now you’re not just an overweight, in debt, and easily
distracted man, you’re an overweight, in debt, and easily distracted man
who has failed at not being overweight, in debt, or easily distracted.
The sting of failure can feel like an existential gut punch.
But time heals all wounds. Nature has — for better and worse — blessed
us with terrible memories, so we forget how crappy we felt when we
failed in our last attempt to radically improve ourselves.
Thus, six months later that itch to change yourself returns, and the
whole scenario plays itself out again, like some Napoleon Hill, Think
and Grow Rich-infused version of Groundhog Day.
Getting Off the Roller Coaster of Personal Development
Our quest to become better often feels like a roller coaster ride with
its proverbial ups and downs. By the time you’re headed down
Self-Improvement Mountain for the twentieth time, you’re vomiting out
the side of your cart in self-disgust, cursing yourself that you once
again bought a ticket to ride.
Why are our attempts to better ourselves usually so uneven, and why do
they so frequently end in failure? There are a few reasons:
Focusing on the big goal overwhelms us into inaction. It’s an article of
faith in the world of personal development that you have to make big,
Empire State goals. You don’t just want to dominate in your own life —
you want to dominate the world.
And so you draw up plans for leaving behind the 99% of schmos out there,
and becoming part of the extraordinary 1% — not necessarily as measured
in pure wealth, but in passion, fitness, financial independence, and
number of Machu Picchu pics in your Instagram feed.
But the enormity of your goals ends up overwhelming you into inaction.
What we moderns call “stress” would be better termed “fear”; the
physiological reaction is the same in both emotions. A big, audacious
goal looks to the brain just like a saber-toothed tiger stalking us in
the woods, and the idea of paying off $100K in student loan debt seems
so impossible that it’s actually scary. And when our brain encounters
scary, the old amygdala kicks into fight-flight-freeze mode, and you
assume the position of deer-stuck-in-headlights.
Big, giant goals can be awe-inspiring. But like many awe-inspiring
things — a lion, a black hole, the Grand Canyon — they can also swallow
you whole.
We think a magic bullet will save us. Let’s say that we’re able to
overcome the torpor-inducing effects of aiming for radical personal
change, and we start taking action towards achieving our goals. As
humans are wont to do, instead of just getting right to work doing the
boring, mundane, time-tested things that will bring success, we
typically start looking for “hacks” that will get us the results we want
as fast as possible and with as little work as possible. We want that
magic bullet that will allow us to hit our target right in the bulls-eye
with just one shot.
The danger of looking for a magic bullet is that you end up spending all
your time searching for it instead of actually doing the work that
needs to be done. You scroll through countless blog articles on
productivity, in hopes of discovering that one tip that will make you
superhumanly efficient. You listen to podcast after podcast from people
who earn their living telling people how to make money online, hoping
one day you’ll hear an insight that will unlock your businesses’
potential, so you too can make your living online, telling other people
how to make a living online. You research and find the perfect gratitude
journal so you can be more zen.
The insidious thing about searching for magic bullets is that you feel
like you’re doing something to reach your goals when in fact you’re
doing nothing. Magic bullet hunting is masturbatory self-improvement.
All the pleasure, without the production of metaphorical progeny. Read
more at: http://tr.im/W5Flm
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