Why I stopped writing for three months
And why I am starting again
I’ve taken a bit of a break from writing.
If you scroll through my Medium page, you’ll notice that I haven’t published anything in almost 3 months.
Three months is a long break, especially after writing around 45 posts in two months.
And when people ask why I stopped, I often reply with either being busy or not having good enough ideas. In reality, I am afraid: afraid of failing and afraid of having nothing to show for my work.
But now, I’m climbing back onto the saddle, and here is why.
For the past half year, I’ve worked with grassroots activists, politicians, and nonprofits to phase out gasoline and diesel cars in Washington State.
One of the main tenets of this effort is a ban on registering new gasoline and diesel vehicles starting in 2030.
Now, I imagine that many readers tense-up when reading that. It’s a lofty goal and one that requires everyone to change their lifestyle.
As a reader, you may be thinking one of the following:
“How can you accomplish that?”
or
“It doesn’t seem possible.”
or some form of
“I don’t like that.”
And if you thought any of these, you aren’t alone. When I talk in front of a room of citizens, or speak with activists on a conference call, or talk with legislators, I am bombarded with these types of comments and questions.
And honestly, I sometimes get frustrated with them.
I become frustrated with their fear of change, their tendency to prescribe today’s reality on future possibilities, and their opposition to take action today for a brighter and more prosperous future.
But, really, I’m in no position to criticize.
While I work to rally others around an ambitious way to power Washington’s transportation sector, I harbor my own fears about my future. Despite identifying lofty goals — and part of me knowing I can achieve them — the other part struggles to believe in my ability or whether I am truly worthy of that success.
The Rider and the Elephant
Most of us are familiar with this struggle, and the book Switch by Heath and Heath explains it well. They created the metaphor of the Rider and the Elephant to explain the two parts that I identified in myself.
The Rider represents the part of the brain that plans, or in my case, the part that identified lofty goals and knows I can achieve them. The Elephant represents the subconscious part, the part that needs coaxing and motivation. It often is the part that expresses fear and questions worth.
It’s important to note that the Elephant maintains all the power, as it carries them both toward any destination.
Now, these parts can work together beautifully, where the Rider chooses a direction, the Elephant moves, and both move forward together.
However, they can cause immense frustration when they disagree. If the Rider charts a direction, but the Elephant does not want to move, then they move in the wrong direction together.
The Rider watches as they continue to move off course and, powerless, grows increasingly frustrated. And so, in order to accomplish anything, the Elephant must agree.
How do you get the Elephant to agree?
Simply (or not so simply): address the Elephant’s fears.
In January, grassroots activists and I submitted a resolution at the Washington State Democratic Party’s State-Wide Convention. The resolution called for the phase-out of gasoline vehicles starting is 2030, as described earlier.
The resolution failed by a significant majority.
Many people knew it would protect the environment and public health for future generations. However, knowing those positives did not outweigh their fears. They feared what this change would mean for themselves and their communities, and it failed as a result.
My colleagues and I learned our lesson, and we prepared for our next opportunity to vote in mid-June.
We immediately worked to address those fears head-on. We used our research to craft a message directly to their fears. We showed them that the road of action is far safer than they thought.
Moreover, we showed them that the road of inaction is much riskier than anticipated.
We enlisted more allies to advocate for and spread our message, and we even hosted a webinar to educate the growing list of allies.
June came, along with the next convention. And this time, we were ready. We spoke to people’s fears and acknowledged their anxieties.
This time, when the resolution came up for a vote, it passed. Unanimously. In less than six months, we were able to change a majority opposed to unanimous support.
This is why I chose to begin writing again. If the grassroots activists of a state’s major political party can confront their fears, then I certainly can.
