Fully Invested

Some of us are lucky. We have found the thing we love and are doing that thing every single day with every available once of energy, talent and focus.

Some of us are still searching. We are looking for that thing that ignites our passion and sets our mind on fire with the urge to create, build and improve.

For some of us, that thing is our work. For others, that thing sits outside our work. In either case, it is desperately important that we find that thing, pursue it and give over everything we have got.

I get frustrated. I get stuck. And then I see people like Ian Ruhter, fully invested and actively engaged with his gift to the world:

“If you had been searching your whole life for something you love, what would you be willing to sacrifice?” — Ian Ruhter

Note: This post was inspired by Trent Gillis’ post “What Would You Be Willing to Sacrifice?” at the On Being Blog. Take a look.

Ideas Need Action

A few years ago, I had a great idea for a book I wanted to write. I never wrote it.

A few days ago, I watched a movie featuring the two lead characters from the book I never wrote. Turns out, someone else wrote it. And they did a good job.

Now I will probably never write that book because I have seen the characters I had imagined brought to life by somebody else.

I’m not angry or bitter or really even all that surprised. A brilliant idea is only brilliant when brought to life. Ideas need action. There is nothing I can dream that someone else can’t dream. Worse yet, there is probably nothing I have ever dreamed that someone else hasn’t already dreamed as well. Probably better.

And so the trick is to start working and keep working and not stop working until the dream is brought to life. It is a story or a play or a poem or a painting or an invention or whatever. Your idea needs action. Do it now. Someone else is doing it. You need to do it first or you will be watching someone else who has done it better.

Gratitude is a practice

I don’t call myself a Buddhist but there is much about the Buddhist approach to life that feels right to me. I am drawn to the belief that my life, and everything in my life, is practice. Not practice for an abstract, future-tense state of being where everything is perfect and all potential fulfilled. Not time-served through adversity to merit everlasting rest in unseen perpetual bliss.

I’m not talking heaven or nirvana or any other metaphysical end state. I’m talking about right here, right now.

Life as practice means everything I do and everything done to me is raw material. I can work with everything to be more fully present in my life. This, I think, is the point of life. Not worrying so much about future states of perfection at the expense of the present moment. The future is never what I expect nor what I believe I will need it to be. Much better to focus my attention on right now, which is, of course, always exactly as it is.

This is not a recipe for nihilism. This carries me toward selflessness.

If my life is my practice, then I can work with everything and everything belongs. Being happy is temporary. Being unhappy is temporary. Being sad, frustrated, angry, elated are all temporary. These emotional states change. They intensify, and they weaken. They disappear.

Gratitude, however, does not disappear. Gratitude remains constant. Gratitude is not a feeling. Gratitude is a practice.

This time of year my mind habitually produces lists of the great things I appreciate. This is the Count My Many Blessings approach to gratitude. Keep doing this, but don’t stop here.

Gratitude as practice means seeing, recognizing and appreciating those things in my that are uncomfortable, unpleasant or just plain difficult. This stuff is my life, too.

And so gratitude as practice requires a list of not-so-pleasant things that make my life as it is. This does not come naturally to me. This requires a lot of practice.

Here goes.

Less time managing time = more time getting things done

I’m that guy who believes there is some secret trick or some special technology waiting just around the corner that will unleash my full ability to work smarter, faster and better. I follow blogs about productivity and tweet using the #productivity hashtag. That’s right. I’m that guy.

That’s why, from time to time, I require simple, straightforward reminders like this one from Anthony Iannarino at The Sales Blog. Managing time isn’t hard. We all manage our time. We manage our time according to our priorities. Getting our priorities to line up with our best interests more difficult. That’s called managing yourself. When you manage your priorities well, time is not really a problem.

We have an obligation to spend our time doing great things

I was planning to write something about the importance of writing a personal mission statement to help clarify your personal terms of success. Then I read this blog post by Seth Godin (“The Chance of Lifetime“) and I would much prefer that people read that instead.

Just a taste:

The thing is, we still live in a world that’s filled with opportunity. In fact, we have more than an opportunity — we have an obligation. An obligation to spend our time doing great things. To find ideas that matter and to share them. To push ourselves and the people around us to demonstrate gratitude, insight, and inspiration. To take risks and to make the world better by being amazing.

Read it. Right now. Go.

Something better than bad

Since 9th grade, I have thought of myself as a writer on the verge of writing Really Big Things. Important Things. Vital Things. Astounding Things.

There has only been one thing really standing in my way: I’m not writing.

It takes a constant infusion of morale boosting to be a writer. Notice I didn’t say a “great writer”. That’s no longer my goal. I have decided to settle for being a writer — someone who writes.

Just the simple act of writing takes an inordinate amount of inspiration to stave off the question, “Who cares?”

Seth Godin’s blog provides that inordinate amount of inspiration. In his post “Talker’s Block“, Seth points out that nobody ever really gets talker’s block. We talk all the time quite freely about stuff we know nothing about and never really worry about sounding dumb or inarticulate or incoherent. We don’t worry about it because we know no one’s really listening and what we say won’t last. Our words wash away moment to moment.

Not so with writing. We carry around the idea that everything set to page is indelible, permanent, an enduring testament to the quality of our inner lives. Such pressure.

How much better to simply get over it, realize that nobody is going to actually read what you are writing and then write anyway. Write in public. Write where people can see it, and don’t worry about being good enough to satisfy. Worry only about being better than bad.

Here’s what he says:

Writer’s block isn’t hard to cure.

Just write poorly. Continue to write poorly, in public, until you can write better.

I believe that everyone should write in public. Get a blog. Or use Squidoo or Tumblr or a microblogging site. Use an alias if you like. Turn off comments, certainly–you don’t need more criticism, you need more writing.

Do it every day. Every single day. Not a diary, not fiction, but analysis. Clear, crisp, honest writing about what you see in the world. Or want to see. Or teach (in writing). Tell us how to do something.

If you know you have to write something every single day, even a paragraph, you will improve your writing. If you’re concerned with quality, of course, then not writing is not a problem, because zero is perfect and without defects. Shipping nothing is safe.

The second best thing to zero is something better than bad. So if you know you have write tomorrow, your brain will start working on something better than bad. And then you’ll inevitably redefine bad and tomorrow will be better than that. And on and on.

Write like you talk. Often.

Lovely. Thanks, Seth.