If you care enough about an idea, you’ll want to tell everyone about it. So, do you actually care about your work? It’s a simple question, but an important one—and one that could change the course of everything.
My friend Sarah Peck is a damn good writer. She’s also in the midst of writing a book, and I’m proud to say that we’re represented by the same literary agency. (Bless those folks for having to wrangle the likes of us both!) She said something the other day that I really wanted to share with you, because in a culture that’s all about the hustle, hustle, motherfucking hustle, I’m pretty sure that everyone thinks that if they’re not working
Her face is soft and at ease; serene and unhardened. She looks at the world through fresh, rosy eyes, while her lips unravel themselves easily at the sight of a stranger. Who are those who hold bitterness in their hearts? She walks past Round Pond, befriending the crisp July air, twirling twigs between her fingertips, taking refuge underneath the old maple. A blade of grass feels novel under her nose; a worm akin to an alien. The sight of Queen
Does it bring you joy? Then out it goes, forever and ever. We have spent far too much time doing what’s merely convenient.
Stick it out or throw in the towel? Is patience a virtue, or does it make you a fool? Do good things really come to those who wait, or do they come to those who…don’t? We seem to think that time is a predictor of success, but it’s not: enthusiasm is. You could do something for fifty years, and if you’ve done so with desire, it will have been worth it. On the other hand, you could do something for
One of the most important jobs you have: keep your promises to yourself. It’s easy to make exceptions when no one’s going to notice; no one’s going to hold you to it; no one’s going to be angry if you don’t. It’s easy to say you’ll get to it tomorrow, or that it’s the least important priority on your list. But every time you tell yourself you’re going to take the jog, write the blog post, start the thing, try
Procrastination is the earliest sign. Then comes disdain. When you physically cannot bring yourself to do the work, just one more minute, that’s when you know you have no other choice. You. Must. Murder. Murder your own success. Murder your resume. Murder your reputation. And murder everything that feels like a heavy leaden weight on your shoulders. Burn it right down to the ground, and don’t worry about regrets. Because none of it this worth it if you have to
Is it worth the stress? It’s a metric we don’t consider enough. Is it worth the money? We ask ourselves that every day. Is it worth the time? We ask ourselves that, too. But something that might be worth both the money and the time, may never be worth the pressure. As much as we like to think of ourselves as “capable,” all of us have limits. There are some things that will kill you, you know.
The secret? You’re either going to commit to it or you’re not. Deciding is 100% of the decision. The rest is simply a (happy) consequence.
There’s money poor, and there’s time poor. In order to be rich in one, most people give up the other. These two things are seemingly in constant battle with each other, pulling, tugging, yanking for custody. In order to have more money, you must give up the time to get it. In order to have more time, you must give up the money. But is this really true? Actually, this is an outdated model of the way we view our
