On being realistic

I don't believe in being realistic.  I believe in things that aren't real, that haven't yet become real.

I need to.  Because the only way I can motivate myself to take action is by believing in a reality that does not yet exist.  I need to believe in a result or outcome that has not yet been seen.  I have to believe that what I do will make a difference -- that the reality, which I see today will not necessarily be the one I see tomorrow.

So please don't tell me to be realistic.  I just don't work that way.

The pitfalls of perfect

I think I've made this reflection several times, but it keeps coming back.  I clearly haven't learned the lesson yet.

Perfect is the enemy of good.

I have this idea in my head of how I want the blog posts to be.  I want to re-count my Zimbabwe trip in a contiguous series of posts (which at this point is already broken).  And I'm getting to the part that was just so awesome, I don't think any post will do it justice.  So I just leave it.  It doesn't get done.

And because I don't want to post anything else until I post the rest of that trip, nothing else gets done either.  Ideas come and go and nothing is written.  Everything is on hold for this unattainable contiguous ideal in my head that I'm sure doesn't matter to anyone else.

It's ridiculous, really.

So, I'm letting that go.  I may or may not post the rest of the pictures from that trip.  But even if I don't, I'm not going to let that stop me from posting other things.

Phew.  That's better.

The definitive cure

This past week, I attended the Reviving the Islamic Spirit Knowledge Retreat.  There's so much I want to write about it.  But this morning, as I was trying to put something together, I was stuck.  Again.

It's the same wall that I've hit before.  I don't want to write something until I can write it just right.  (I'm just recognizing now the arrogance in that statement -- the assumption that I can and should only write things that are 'just right'.  As if anything else would not be worthy of me.  Ouch.)  Then, if I can't formulate the complete, fully formed thought from the beginning and middle to the end, I don't even start writing.  And I'm stuck.

This reminded me of one of the things we learned in the retreat about purifying and refining the self.  Dr. Abdal Hakim Jackson was teaching from Taj Al Arus by Ibn Ata Illah.  It's a collection of aphorisms regarding refinement of the self.  With regards to fixing bad character traits that one finds in oneself (such as arrogance, for example), there was one line in the book that said:

Do not be like the sick person who says, 
'I will not treat my illness until I find the definitive cure.'

You will not find the definitive cure until you treat your illness.

It's just another reminder to take the step and make the effort -- even if you're not certain that the first step will take you where you want to go.  Because what is certain, is that without taking any steps, you're not going to get anywhere.

Activation energy

In chemistry, the activation energy is the energy you need to start a chemcal reaction.  Once this energy is put into the system, the reaction will go on its own, often producing much more than the energy required to start it.  For example, a little bit of heat is required to start a fire.  Once we have that spark, the fire burns on its own, releasing much more energy than that little spark used to light it.

I find that a lot of the things we do are like that chemical reaction.  You have to put a little bit of effort into it to begin with, but once you get started, the ball starts rolling and in the end, you get a lot more out of it than you put in.  For example, today, I went out for a run for the first time in a long time.  All I really had to do was decide to go, put on my sneakers and get outside.  Once I'm out there with my running buddy, the running takes care of itself and in the end, I feel great.

Similarly, I love visiting people.  I always find that it makes me really happy.  All I need to do is pick up the phone, set a time and date and the rest takes care of itself.  And in the end, I've gotten so much more out of it than I put in.

The same thing happens with my sewing.  I just pick the fabric and a project as simple as a drawstring bag and fifteen minutes later, I've got a new reusable bag, reduced my fabric stash, and I feel awesome.

The thing is, sometimes, even that little bit of activation energy becomes a barrier.  This is especially true when there are so many options that require almost no activation energy -- things like surfing the internet or checking my email or watching TV.  They're not just attention leaks, they're time and opportunity leaks too. That's just another reason why I try to limit my media consumption.

Almost invariably, once I do invest the energy to start some activity, I don't regret it and, on the contrary, I'm very happy that I made that decision.  I just need to remind myself that the activation energy of the activities is but a small investment for a much larger reward.

Effort and impact

It took me a long time to learn this, but I've found that there is a relationship between effort and impact.  It's not always linear but it's generally positive.  The more effort you put into something, the better the final product is and the greater its impact.

Now I see it in even the simplest of things.  For example, there are many ways to deliver a message.  You can send it in an email, you can say it over the phone or you can meet someone and say it in person.  It takes more effort to meet someone in person than it does to make a phone call and more effort to make a phone call than it does to send an email.  Likewise, even when the words are the same, the impact of the message is related to the effort used to deliver it.

Salmon run

We watched the salmon run today at Etienne Brule Park.   It was another beautiful day in this unusually warm Thanksgiving long weekend.  Lots of people were out in the park.   Lots of people were watching the salmon.

We cheered each time one of the fish struggled frantically to get up the falls.  And we sighed in sympathy and disappointment each time one of them didn't make it up.  We didn't actually see any of them make it up today.  But from the cheering we heard when we were walking on the path on the other side of the falls, we're pretty sure that one of them did.

Regardless of whether they made it, their struggle was moving to watch.  As silly as it seemed, we couldn't help but to cheer them on.  We could see how hard they were swishing their tails to push themselves up the waterfall.  And we could see them trying again and again each time the water pushed them back down.

I don't think these fish have any idea that we were watching or cheering them on.  They were just doing what they had to do.  And in doing that, and in struggling and not giving up, they impacted people in ways they don't even know.

A matter of effort

One of the biggest things I learned in graduate school is that, for all but the most trivial of projects, there is a positive correlation between results and efforts.  It seems rather simple, yes, I know.  The more effort you put into something, the better the results are likely to be.

But in all my years of education up until graduate school, this wasn't what I learned from experience.  Maybe the assignments and projects were too easy.  Or I just enjoyed the work so much that I didn't notice that I was putting a lot of effort in to get the results I got.

By the time I got to graduate school, I had made an art of putting the minimum amount of effort into something to get the maximum result.  I saw it as a matter of efficiency. Since efficiency is output over input, reducing the amount of input required to produce a given output increases the efficiency. So, if the grading scheme is such that an A+ is anything between 85%-100%, I would aim for 85% and no more.  I would actually submit assignments, knowing that some of the answers were wrong, calculating that the amount of effort it would take me to get those right wasn't going to impact my letter grade. 

I cringe now, remembering this.

Anyways, unfortunately (or fortunately, when you think of the bigger lesson I learned), this strategy didn't work when it came to research in graduate school.  Unlike school assignments, where you can't get more than an A+, there's no ceiling on the positive result of a research project.  Every week, the brilliant people all around me who were putting their full effort into their research and presenting their results were putting the results of my efficiency strategy in stark relief.  It became clear that holding back on the effort was a flawed strategy.

It took me some time to accept this, though.  Replacing a habit acquired through nearly two decades of life experience isn't going to be instantaneous.  In addition to that, this habit was grounded in a pervasive belief in my schools growing up that if you're really smart, you don't need to try that hard.  Dr. Carol Dweck calls this the fixed mindset.  And it's not helpful.  I needed to acquire the growth mindset, that says that you can effectively make yourself smarter by trying harder.  Or that effort leads to result.

Anyways, inspired by Seth Godin's blog post, I'm going to apply this hard earned lesson and start writing regularly and publicly in my effort to become a better writer.