You know that sinking feeling when you suddenly realize that you have veered off course? As in, way, way, way off course. Commonly known as procrastination, that state is a true mental torture for those who have fully experienced its power. That almost physical sensation of losing your will, that inexplicable detachment from your actions, which all seem so pointless and counterproductive, that strong, yet so fruitless anger at yourself and your inability to be in charge of your life. You know what I’m talking, right? I’ve been there many times. So have you, if you have read this far.
Procrastination is a swamp where our hopes and dreams slowly drown, while we watch in passive despair. Outside of that gray swamp lies your life, with all its richness and opportunities. The land of bright colors, where things happen, purpose is not an empty word, and days are full of meaning. It’s out there, yet the cold siren call of the swamp is too strong to resists. And we go through the motions, knee deep in apathy, while doing our best to present a believable facade to everyone around.
Yet eventually, we find our way back. Finding it is far from easy and certainly can take more than one attempt, but we do find it. Emerging from the icy embrace of procrastination, we shake ourselves dry and start taking steps toward the brilliance of life. And that’s where, right between the swamp of apathetic detachment and the land of meaningful existence, lies a trap.
The trap of small steps.
That article you need to write. It surely calls for more research. It would be unsubstantiated without a solid set of references. Hello Google, let try that again. And that image… really? Those colors! And the wrong message it could be sending… There must be a better option out there. Nothing on Unsplash? Well, what about Pixabay? Then there is the eternal question of formatting. Wouldn’t it be better to add more headers? Are paragraphs too long? And on and on it goes…
You are no longer binge-watching Netflix or cleaning your desk for the fiftieth time. And you are certainly not browsing YouTube or scrolling down our Instagram feed. You Are Doing Things. Things that matter. Things that will bring you closer to achieving your goals. Things that are necessary for going boldly in the direction of our dreams.
Except they are not.
They are the trap, set by the shrewd swamp in its last attempt not to let you escape. It gives you an illusion of making progress, while firmly holding you in the grey zone between the swamp and life. Sure, those small steps all may be useful. After the core of your task is completed. Not before. You can publish an article with imperfect formatting or sub-optimal picture. You cannot publish it (or, at least, publish and expect it to resonate with readers) until you write the text. The article indeed may need more research, but at some point even that research must stop in order for words — your words — to appear on the screen.
The best litmus test to see whether you have fallen in to the trap, is to look at your current activity and ask yourself two simple questions:
- If I stop doing this, can I still complete the task?
- Is there a bolder way to accomplish what I want?
And if the answers are yes, you are in the trap.
#2 is particularity important. Yes, when you want to build a skyscraper you start by taking the first load of dirt out the ground. And yes, at some point, the hole will be deep and wide enough to start building the foundation. But if your only tool is a shovel, a lifetime of digging won’t be enough (unless you have an army of workers). You need to bring large excavators and start digging a real hole. Small steps can pave the way for big things. But they are not sufficient to make big things real.
I’ve been to the swamp and back many times and I’m sure to have fallen into the Trap of Small Steps more than once. If you find yourself in it, don’t try to improve your small steps. Instead, drop them and take a few bold ones. Maybe even one. But a step that matters. And you will find that it teleports you out the comfort zone you’ve been circling for hours or days, taking one small tangible, yet so inconsequential step at at time.
In short, be consequential.
