Alexandersmap

    Category: Productivity

    • The Abnormal Climb

      “You can’t be normal and expect abnormal results.” – Naval Ravikant

      There’s nothing wrong with normal; the pursuit of normal usually offers you an average, lovely life. But if you want to be ultra-wealthy or a washboard abs model or win the Olympics or be an astronaut or a Nobel Peace Prize winner, well, be abnormal. They don’t just give space suits to the guy ahead of you at Starbucks. Unless that guy is a Navy pilot with a Masters in Astrophysics anyway, and even then his odds aren’t great. Nope, be different than the billions of people marching through life…. or embrace the beauty of average. We all have that choice.

      I’ve dabbled in the pursuit of excellence in athletics, and frankly I opted out early. Pursue Olympic-level rowing? Thought I’d give it a try. Learned quickly that it was a very steep and long climb. I opted to be a big fish in a smaller pond. Regrets? I’ve had a few. Pursuing elite rowing isn’t one of them. I’ve known several Olympians over the years, one rowed out of the same boathouse as me. She won a silver medal! Olympians seem average on the surface, there’s an abnormal core there – a focus, that I deeply admire. But I knew it wasn’t me.

      We all want to be excellent at something, if we’re lucky we figure out quickly what we shouldn’t attempt to excel in. Sometimes great or pretty good still sets us up for an exceptional life. I was a pretty good rower back in my time, but not willing to do the “abnormal” work needed to be world class. I smile thinking about the lecture I heard from the National Team Coach emphatically telling a friend and me that the work needed was far beyond what we were doing at the time (and we were very fit). I appreciated his time and candor, assessed my willingness to execute on the plan and opted out. In a different pond I might have pushed through, but the pond I was in seemed good enough.

      “Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect.” – Mark Twain

      This quote on the surface is funny (or scary in this political climate), but peel back a layer and there’s truth in the message. In the context of pursuing the abnormal there’s magic in Mark’s clever quip. Find your unique path, work hard and be excellent at it. Don’t be the majority, be something more. I’ve long since hung up the oar, but hey, maybe the writing will take off. At the very least I owe it to myself to become a better writer. There’s honor in the pursuit of excellence, even if we never reach it. Somebody once said that “never” is a belief, it doesn’t have to be shackles. I saw that in rowers who accepted the same challenge I opted out of who eventually wore Olympic hardware.

      “Blah, blah, blah, blah. DO THE WORK.” – Jocko Willink

      At some point you get tired of regurgitating excuses and you find something to be singularly focused on pursuing. We’re all running out of time, get up and do something already. Balance is important but it’s also an excuse. Prioritize, focus and do the work. Want to be a writer? Do the work? Ab model? Do the work. Olympic athlete? Do. The. Work. We arrive at excellence by what we focus on, and by what we say no to along the way. The day offers the same opportunity for all of us living in a free society, so why exhaust that day coming up with excuses for why you didn’t do something? Get fit, work abnormally hard at your chosen craft, whether writing or astronaut or parent, be consistently, abnormally doing the work, and you’ll reach a level of excellence – or at the very least, be well above average. Seems a worthwhile climb after all.

    • The Calendar Waltz

      They say people are increasingly stressed out on Sunday night with anticipation for the work week. I don’t tend to get stressed anymore. Being in a job I like helps, but so does structuring my days with some measure of sanity. Looking at my calendar this Monday morning, I see that the week is fully booked. That is as it should be, but this year I’ve looked at my schedule through a different lens; Is this block on my calendar the best use of my time?

      “A busy calendar and a busy mind will destroy your ability to do great things in this world.” – Naval Ravikant

      Naval throws out a challenge with this statement. And I struggle with the idea of not being busy all the time. On the face of it I know it’s true, but I tend to overbook myself anyway. There is a rush in being busy, but busy doesn’t translate into productive. Nor does busy equal effective. The next time you watch a great TED talk, pay attention to the gaps; the pregnant pause between words. Space to digest what is being said is critical in a great presentation. And space is equally important in our day-to-day. Increasingly, I use the time in between meetings as quiet time to assess what just happened and what will need to happen in my next scheduled meeting for things to progress. No chatter on the radio if I’m driving, no background music if I’m in the office. This is my space in between to reset my mind, line up my follow-up items, take action as required and to think.

      I write this with an eye on the clock, as it ticks towards a stack of consecutive meetings. I’ve just finished a long drive, reset to write, and will jump back into the day. This pause keeps me sane, more effective when I switch back “on” and overall happier in my life. I’m eager to begin the day, as opposed to being stressed about what I’m forgetting or rushing to a meeting cursing and distracted. I’m all in on the open spaces in the calendar. They make the rest of it more of a waltz than a forced march. Isn’t that a better life?

    • Growth at the Point of Resistance

      “I have seen many people in diverse fields take some version of the process-first philosophy and transform it into an excuse for never putting themselves on the line or pretending not to care…
      As adults, we have to take responsibility for ourselves and nurture a healthy, liberated mind-set. We need to put ourselves out there, give it our all, and reap the lesson, win or lose…
      Growth comes at the point of resistance. We learn by pushing ourselves and finding what really lies at the outer reaches of our abilities.”
      – Josh Waitzkin, The Art of Learning

      I’ve been sitting on Waitzkin’s book for a long time, and finally started reading it when I’d chewed through other Kindle downloads.  When I read in poor lighting or when walking on the treadmill the iPad app and Kindle offer the most flexibility to get it done (I’m just not going to wear reading glasses on a treadmill, thank you). So Waitzkin’s book has lurked in the Cloud for a couple of years, pushed back by other, sexier books. And that’s a shame because it’s brilliant. But so it goes, we’re here now; front of the line. Here’s your cue Josh!

      “Disappointment is a part of the road to greatness.” – Josh Waitzkin

      There comes a point in your life, hopefully, when you re-commit to learning. Your ego is pushed aside a bit and you start telling yourself the truth – I don’t know this and I’d like to learn more about it. And you wade into the deep end, knowing you’ll have setback and will get overwhelmed and perhaps humiliated, but at the very least humbled. I’m humbled learning French. I’m humbled realizing a bathtub installation isn’t as easy as I’d hoped as I look at a tub longer than the advertised rough opening space. I’m humbled when a customer asks what version of Transport Layer Protocol we use. If life has reinforced anything for me, it’s that “I don’t know, let me find out” is the best answer.

      It’s easy to spot a bullshit artist. They seem to gravitate to the spotlight. And enough people fall in line behind them that they might run a company, a church or be President. They’ll say what you want to hear, boost your own ego and collect you time, money or vote. It’s a lot harder to recognize that maybe you don’t have the world all figured out and then have the initiative and humility to go figure out where the truth lies. Right now I’m a long way from fluent French, but closer than I was last year.  Right now I haven’t won a Nobel Prize in Literature, but I’m a better writer than I was last year at this time and light years ahead of a decade ago.

      I woke up this morning thinking about a bathtub drain. Mind you, this isn’t a typical first thought of the day for me, but I recognized in the clarity of early morning that I need to drop in the tub, I can’t just slide it in, and that changes everything. Damn. More work. But with the realization came the solution, and I know it will turn out okay. I reached a point of resistance with this tub, came up with one not-so-great solution that ultimately won’t work, and eventually found the answer somewhere between REM sleep and lying awake in the darkness.

      The great thing about being alive right now is having all the information you need a click away. The problem with being alive right now is the flood of bad information, distracting nonsense and conspiracy theories out there. A little focus goes a long way in all things. I’ll never be a master carpenter or professional plumber, but I’ll get this tub in with a little help here and there. I may always sound like French is a second language for me, but eventually I’ll figure out enough to find out where the bathroom is and hold a basic conversation.  I may not win the Nobel Prize in Literature, but I’m learning a lot about myself through the writing, and hey, someone has to win it, right?  Stretch goals are inherently stretch you, just don’t go too thin in that stretch.  Know your limitations, but by all means test them. You never know until you try.

    • Writing: Wrestling With The Angel

      “The most regretful people on earth are those who felt the call to creative work, who felt their own creative power restive and uprising, and gave to it neither power nor time.” – Mary Oliver

      You know those moments when you lie there knowing you’re going to be creaky and sore even before you get out of bed? That was me after a day of bathroom renovation work. Being tall, laying tile seems especially tough on the body. But hopefully worth it in the end. But this morning was the sore all over shuffle, and I quietly got myself hydrated and caffeinated as a nod to yesterday before focusing on today’s work. Monday. Lot to do this week. Lot to do today. But first the morning routine, more important than ever when you feel like a panini in a press.

      Writing every day has its rewards, but also it’s price. Time mostly, but also focus. There are mornings when I have a lot to do in the rest of my life and the last thing I want to do is write. But I write anyway to keep the streak alive and find once I’ve settled my mind to it the writing flows easily. So I sit here writing with the cat perched over my shoulder, tail whipping my head prodding me to pay attention, coffee cooling within reach, clock ticking in my head and so much to say. The writing flows despite the cat, despite the clock, despite the soreness. I’m giving power to the muse; I’ve committed to the ride.

      Blogging is a different form of writing than other writing, and I know I’m stalling on the project I have in my mind. I’ve developed the consistent effort of publishing every day, but there’s more to do. The muse laughs at me and says you’re not fully committed, just look at the schedule you’ve built for yourself around work and family and bathroom renovations! Come back to me when you’re serious about that writing project and then we’ll dance. And I nod my head, knowing the truth is out. The blogging continues, the project doesn’t, the other things in life tap on my shoulder saying time for us. And I write faster, knowing this dance is almost over for the day.

      Mary Oliver spotlighted the commitment needed to the craft:

      “He who does not crave that roofless place eternity should stay at home. Such a person is perfectly worthy, and useful, and even beautiful, but is not an artist…

      The working, concentrating artist is an adult who refuses interruption from himself, who remains absorbed and energized in and by the work—who is thus responsible to the work.

      The poem gets written. I have wrestled with the angel and I am stained with light and I have no shame. Neither do I have guilt.” – Mary Oliver, Upstream, Selected Essays

      There it is; guilt. You either wrestle with the angel or you open the door to the rest of life to come in. It might seem like you’re all dancing together, but the muse likes to dance with you alone on the floor or not at all. I nod my regrets, say goodbye for now and welcome the Monday crowd. May we dance a bit longer next time?

    • Chaos Hates Simplicity

      The humidifier hasn’t been filled for days and the house plants looked just as thirsty so I finally corrected the water situation today. A dry house isn’t good for people either, but inevitable in winter if you don’t keep up with it. And that’s the thing, I’m not keeping up. Things I might have done routinely in the course of a day are getting put off. I noticed the dishes stacking up next to the sink. Clutter is stacking up in other places too. And it slid sideways the moment I started demolition in the bathroom and laundry room. The washer and dryer are sitting in my son’s room. The cat boxes are in my daughter’s room. Cleaning supplies and shelving sit in the master bedroom. Tools and tile are stacked in the hallway waiting their turn. I feel like a hoarder wading through the house. I need a haircut. Chaos has found us.

      My theory on chaos is that it lurks right behind you, waiting for an opportunity to pounce into your life. Once it arrives it resists leaving. Chaos is a stubborn thing indeed. If the goal in Yin and Yang is to dance along the edge of chaos and order, then my home and its residents are stumbling into chaos. One of the cats, finding the litter boxes moved to another room, chose to make a deposit at his old bank location. The house, and their world, is upside down. No, this won’t do at all.

      The remedy is simple. Make a list in my bullet journal and start drawing an X through each one as I complete the task. Ah, but I’ve slipped on the journal too. The only place that I’ve seen order is in work, which has proven a welcome distraction from the chaos of construction. I’m under some time pressure to get things done with the kids home for a few days during spring break in March. Business trips coming up fast. A new dryer getting delivered and installed soon too. Tick, tick, tick… stop! Now is when you pause, write down everything that needs to get done, and knock things off one at a time. Get things out of the head and on paper. Make order from chaos. Too analog? There’s beauty in simplicity. Chaos hates simplicity. I hate chaos.

      This sauce I’m stirring is a blend of David Allen, Greg McKeown, Admiral William H. McRaven and Ryder Carrol. They all point to simplicity kicking the ass of chaos. Get things out of your head and on a list, prioritize and knock things off one at a time. Making order out of chaos, one step at a time. Eventually the list shrinks and you no longer have appliances in your son’s bedroom. But it does require some sweat equity too. Now seems a good time to wrap this up and grab a paint brush. I’ve got X’s to make, and chaos to evict.

    • Buddy, Can You Spare a Mask?

      I’m currently renovating a bathroom in my house, the second time in a year I’ve tackled a bathroom renovation. I’m either ambitious or a slow learner. But for now let’s call it the pragmatic use of acquired skills and available time. Why pay someone to do what you can do if the task is worthwhile?

      Step one in renovation (after confirming permit requirements) is demolition of the old bathroom. Demolition is the process of taking what used to be in your everyday life out of your life forever, using reciprocating saws, hammers pry bars and a lot of sweat equity. With the right mindset this can be a fun workout, like a reverse jigsaw puzzle with power tools. This is pure bliss when things are going right. But for things to go right you need to take a few precautions along the way. Things like turning off water supplies and circuit breakers for areas that you’re working on. Using drop cloths to protect areas not being demolished. And wear safety equipment.

      And that brings me to the strange way that coronavirus in China disrupted my bathroom renovation in New Hampshire. It seems the world has gone mad, and something as mundane as a dust mask for protecting your lungs from fiberglass dust have disappeared from the shelves of box stores and local hardware stores alike. Construction dust masks don’t even filter out viruses; viruses are too small and mock these dust masks as they fly into your lungs. That’s why they call them “dust” masks. But tell that to the zealous hoarders of all masks, sure that the apocalypse has arrived, snapping up shopping carts full of dust masks not matter what they’re rated for. On second thought, don’t bother, they’re not listening anyway. If you’re buying that many masks you’re uniquely focused on anything but reason.

      The quest ultimately ended successfully even as it delayed my start time. I did find a box of dust masks rated for general construction dust, not optimal but good enough for the task at hand. With a mask and safety glasses affixed to my face I cut the fiberglass bathtub into pieces and removed all the debris to the dumpster bag outside. Having done this before I knew the most efficient process and completed my demolition in time to clean up and go to dinner with friends. As a bonus I had an ice breaker story about the lingering elastic marks on my face and a tale of misguided mask hoarders. Coronavirus surely requires diligence, public awareness and precaution, but not dust masks. Could you leave a few for the rest of us? I mean, this bathroom isn’t renovating itself?

    • The Game

      I play this game of productivity each morning that I’m home, taking habits I’ve looped together and creating progress metrics within them. First I set the kettle filled with cold water, then drink a pint of water while reading. I try to get at least five pages of meaningful reading done before the kettle whistles. Sometimes it’s only three pages, depending on the conspiracy between the depth of reading and the volume of water being heated. But the goal remains five pages, conspiracies be damned. I could max out the font on my Kindle app to even the playing field, but really, who am I cheating but myself?

      Once my coffee is made, I write. My goal is to write 150 words before the coffee cools enough to sip, and then finish this morning’s post before I finish the cup. Sometimes the game is easy, sometimes I fail miserably, but I’m always more productive than I otherwise might have been. Such is the nature of habit loops, pulling us moment by moment in the direction we’ve set for ourselves.

      What’s missing in this morning routine is movement. And I’m well aware of the omission. Burpees created shoulder problems, rowing for me is best done in the afternoon, and long walks aren’t possible in the frenzy of a workday morning. But not all habits need to be lumped into the same loop, and I’ve shifted movement to the late afternoon or early evening, when I need it most. It’s become a defined break between work and personal time. Often I’ll add a game or two of chess here, and read a few more pages. If I haven’t done it already, I’ll also chip away at Duolingo tackling French. This used to be a morning activity but I’d get too restless after reading and writing to lump a session with French in, so I’ve taken to doing it in the evenings, instead of watching television. I’ll combine some reading here after Duolingo. Sometimes television wins the hour but I’ve kept the Duolingo streak alive all year.

      And that brings me to the last game of the day; reading before sleep takes over. Unlike the morning reading session I’m usually tapped out by late evening. Reading in bed instead of checking Twitter or the news is a way to end on a positive note, but I know I’m good for maybe five pages at most before I’m tapped out. The game is to try, and usually I get two or three pages in before I nod off. Game over, but another day ahead of where I was yesterday. That’s a win, isn’t it?

    • Progress Whispers

      Momentum is a funny thing. It doesn’t come from one big day of contribution, but from small, daily effort over time. Like many people I use the Jim Collins analogy from Good to Great of pushing the flywheel when I reference momentum. Here’s his own summary of the flywheel effect:

      “There is no single defining action, no grand program, no one killer innovation, no solitary lucky break, no miracle moment. Rather, the process resembles relentlessly pushing a giant, heavy flywheel, turn upon turn, building momentum until a point of breakthrough, and beyond.” – Jim Collins, The Flywheel Effect

      We’re all pushing at some flywheel, aren’t we? In our careers, our fitness, our relationships with our spouse and families, and really, in all of our pursuits. Put in your 10,000 hours one small act at a time and over time you reach a level of mastery, as Malcolm Gladwell has spotlighted.

      I came across this quote from Jon Acuff that got me thinking back on the flywheel effect. I’d read his book Finish last year, but I wasn’t in a place where it resonated with me. But I uploaded it again to see what I’d highlighted, and this stood out for me:

      “Progress, on the other hand, is quiet. It whispers. Perfectionism screams failure and hides progress.” – Jon Acuff, Finish

      Perfectionism screams… and blocks. Don’t write the first draft because it sucks. But everyone’s first draft sucks. Every NBA player missed countless shots in the driveway before they nailed them in the NBA Finals. Forget perfectionism, look for progress instead. Progress whispers. Did I take a step towards my goal? Yes, great! No? Don’t miss tomorrow. But keep chipping away at it. Rome wasn’t built in a day.

      I’ve written every day for well past a year, and I’m slowly seeing progress. Better writing, easier flow, expanding palette for new ideas, and an ever-increasing portfolio of completed posts. The writing has bled over into the career, pushing me to be more consistent there, and into other areas I’ve written about before. Progress whispers, but when you look back on it you find you’ve got a lot of momentum going on that flywheel. So by all means, don’t stop pushing now.

    • The First Cup Is The Deepest

      Yeah, I know, the lyric is the first cut is the deepest, not cup… but it applies equally well to both. Hear me out. I’d contend that there’s far more meaning, more depth, in the first cup of coffee, tea or alcoholic beverage than there is in any subsequent cup. Let’s use coffee as our example. It’s dark outside as the sun catches up with the early risers. I’ve just brewed my morning coffee, robust dark roast, thank you, and carefully monitor the temperature for that magical first sip. This is the most zen-like moment of the day for coffee consumption, and a moment when my mind is most open to new ideas. This is the magic cuppa, the most clear-headed and open my mind will be all day, undistracted by the clutter of life. This is where the deep thoughts happen.

      This morning I’m re-assessing my daily routine after the magic hour. The first hour of the day is by far the most productive, and I push to do everything that must be done before the muse fades into the ambient noise of life. For me that means writing, reading, and a quick survey of the bullet journal tasks I need to accomplish that day. That “magic hour” tends to be more like 90 minutes, and then I’m feeling the restlessness build with the volume of the ambient noise around me.

      The coffee cup is empty, the darkness of the morning has given way to light, and any moment now the night owl’s alarm clock will chirp upstairs. It’s time to shift gears to that first bullet in the journal, and the game of putting an X through as many as possible before the day ends. The ambient noise kicks in: What’s the weather today? Who won the Iowa Caucus? Why did the Red Sox trade one of the best players in baseball? Do I even care about the Red Sox anymore after the off-season they’ve had? And so on. Noise.

      I consider another cup of coffee, but I know it won’t be the same. Better to get moving, literally and figuratively, and get into the flow of the work day. Such is the daily battle. I feel the crush of things to do, sigh and get on with it. I wish that first cup would last all day.

    • Meeting Luck

      Last night I won $225 in a Super Bowl office pool I didn’t participate in, from an office I don’t work in, and had little knowledge of before I was told I’d won. My wife picked a random square at her job, wrote my name on it and the score aligned with that random number. That’s random luck for you.

      Saturday I watched my son’s basketball team pull out a win as they broke the press in the final minutes and hit clutch free throws as time ran out for their opponent. The game could have gone either way, but key individual matchups and years of practicing how to break the press (get to the ball!) and shooting free throws made all the difference when the game mattered most. That’s making your own luck for you.

      It’s now Monday morning, the sky is slowly brightening, and I‘m well into the day already. I have a morning routine that, like practicing free throws, becomes muscle memory. If luck is random, it’s also fickle. I’ve never won millions of dollars in the lottery, but I know good luck when I see it. Like breaking the press, you’ve got to get up and meet it.