Eventually The Fist Unclenches

(I’m writing something every* day for #100days. This is post 98/100.)

Clench your fist.

See how long it takes before your mind wanders, or you fatigue, or you decide it’s pointless, and you unclench it.

That’s how most people seek change in their lives.

They decide a change needs to be made. They pursue it with grit and determination.

The early mornings, the sweaty humiliations, the muscle soreness and too-many-leaf lunches.

Then the fist unclenches.

They get distracted, they get tired, they give up.

The narrative of change for most people is failure-dominant.

Change is hard, change never works, change isn’t worth it anymore.

The model that does work, is the one where change doesn’t feel like that.

The problem of course, is that you don’t get the Facebook post, or the impassioned speech over drinks, the one where you say: “I’m on a health kick! I’m on a diet! It’s changed everything!”

You don’t get to tell the world about your inspired new life.

Instead, you just quietly inch towards what you want.

You make it imperceptible, so there’s no room for complaint.

You look at the horizon, and not at the step in front of you. You can go backwards or sideways for a little while, but so long as you keep going, you know you’ll be OK.

You widen the aperture, so that success can come in unlimited forms. Every day, though imperfect, still finds you an opportunity to reward yourself.

This isn’t a pathway to the Olympics. Or to an age-group personal best in a Triathlon.

It’s a formula for normal people to get better, and be better. Without the carnage. Without the let-down and disappointment.

People who sell change sell it as a loud and glorious story.

It almost never ends well.

Change is better made slowly and quietly.

Taking the long view. Accepting momentary failure. Rewarding any success along the way.

There is no glory. There is no grand announcement.

But you will get better.

And in the end, that will make all the difference.