Just because you can't measure it doesn’t make it any less important.
I couldn't write very often in 2020. I had to confront the self-help myth I believed: we need to pursue productivity at all costs, and optimise ourselves at every turn. In doing do, I learned that writing less is better for me.
Without Twitter or Instagram, and a newsfeed blocker on Facebook, it can be hard to connect with what’s topical, so I was delighted to hear that David had started a Substack. David’s work lights up my inbox because he and I share a particular interest. In his greater quest to understand human motivations, David seriously scrutinises conspiracy theories.
It’s OK if there was only so much you could handle, and you said so. Because that’s called a boundary, and you drew it in arguably the most boundary-less time in your life, which takes courage.
Anne is as fiercely determined as Christopher in The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. She’s as kind as The Queen in A Bug’s Life. She’s as funny as Mark Watney in The Martian, if not funnier. She’s as humble as Samwise in The Lord of the Rings.
Let’s be honest: “switch off” is a misleading phrase. There is no switch that would cause us not to keep thinking about what’s on our mind. That is why people often remark that the first few days of a holiday do not really feel like a holiday at all. We cannot turn concentration or care on and off.
How do you look at what you used to think, who you used to be, with kindness and curiosity rather than disdain and embarrassment?
Do I trust everyone and hang all hope on just remembering when we get to July and rip into planning? Is “just remembering” a sound business strategy, ever?