shiny objects and longtime goals

Sometimes I get distracted—

Correction. Often, I get distracted—

From what my heart really wants me to do.

I know what it is I want: variations on a theme of being happy, healthy, wealthy, and creatively fulfilled.

I’ll pull focus and write my dreams and wishes and goals and desires down in long lists. Then I’ll put down all sorts of ways they could come true or that I can influence them to happen.

These long lists look pretty much the same from year to year to year.

It’s like making the same New Year’s resolution every year and never getting around to it. Only I make these dream lists more often than New Year’s Day. (I’m sure other people do it too, hence the popularity of bullet journals.)

But here’s the thing. It’s now September, and this year, for the first time, I do see a change. A quantitative and qualitative change in my life.

My new lists are different for the first time because I’m starting to look back over the year and see how this year is different. And I don’t mean because it’s 2020, the year of the weird.

In January, I took a leap of faith that doing small things consistently would add up. So, I’ve been doing small things consistently.

Transferring $5 per workday into an app for investing.

Writing blog posts twice a week on whatever my heart felt like writing on, so long as I posted them on Wednesday and Saturday.

Writing 10,000 words per week, every week.

Doing 15 pushups after I finish my daily writing in my journal.

Working a certain number of hours in my day job.

None of those things feel big on a one-time basis. But as I look back on nine months of them? It seems like I’m closing the gap between the person I want to be and the person I am. These dreams and wishes are becoming the reality I experience right now.

So, that’s the first thing I want to say. If there is some long-term goal or dream you have, I’d encourage you to figure out the smallest step toward it, and do it every day. There is something to be said for the way tiny things pile up and become more. After writing a bit more than 1400 words per day, I’m now closing in on 400,000 words written this year (I’ll probably hit it with this blog post, funnily enough). (Yep, I just checked. I did.) 400,000 words means I’ve finished an entire book, have another book almost done, two books halfway done, and a whole bunch of other projects started, roughed out, and so on.

That feels a whole lot better than a list item that says, “Write more.”

Or a dream of becoming an author.

(Side note: I’m pretty sure next year is going to be insane. I’m hoping to see these constant small actions bear fruit.)

So, this is cool. I take boring steps every day and eventually see results. (I think that’s every diet ever.)

It’s not advanced quantum math. It’s very simple and easy. The taking action part is the difference. And the taking action daily.

But in the middle of my small, incremental steps to achieve the hungry goals of my heart, shiny objects appear.

I want to redesign my website so it’s easier to find these blog posts.

There’s a movie I MUST watch or a book I MUST read.

I get an idea for a new book (but I have so many I’m already writing).

And so on.

How do those fit in? Because honestly, I’m doing about as much as I can do. In my daily habits, I’m walking that balance between ennui and insanity, falling into that sweet spot called happy. Not doing so little that I’m bored. Not stressing myself out. Generally following my intuition, which generally guides me in the right direction.

So, what about the new kid on the block? That shiny object I must do. The new dream that knocks my socks off?

Do I add more things to my day? Do I take these shiny objects as seriously as my long-term goals? Do I add them to the list of small habits hoping that I can incrementally get there?

I’ll tell you what I did. I actually chose the opposite. I dialed back some of the daily habits, not wanting to make things overly complicated and erring on the side of keeping habits I can actually maintain without burnout. Let’s say I had 10 things I tried to do on a daily basis (taking my vitamins included along with those 15 pushups). Now I have 7. In deciding to have more in my life, I consciously chose to focus on fewer things to keep track of.

Because that leaves time for playing. That leaves time to chase the shiny objects of my heart.

In a weird way, thus, I’m doing this delicate balance of slogging away with tiny wins—but not too many of them—and diving in deep on something that makes me happy.

I think this is the way to protect myself against perfectionism and overwhelm. In my previous life as an overachiever, I’d just add whatever to the list and burn out. I’d crash. Then I’d be back to where I was before, with the same list of dreams and nothing to show for it. Nothing to show myself for it.

(Even worse, I’d say yes to things I didn’t want to do. And spend my days on those.)

Now, I really home in on what I want and do those things. But no more. That allows the grace of space in my days. The time to let my mind wander and allow in the beauty of shiny objects, whatever they may be.

If there’s something you really want in your life, take a small step. Then repeat it.

And if you fall in love, let yourself fall in love and don’t worry about taking it so seriously.

I wish you the best of both worlds.