I just do stuff. Most of us are hyper-analytic and hyper-critical of ourselves to some degree. For example, for as long as I remember, I've frequently have moments when I think I should be "doing something" -- in a general sense or shifting to a higher priority, those types of thoughts. That's fine, and more times than not I heed my advice and get 'er done, whatever "'er" is on a particular day. There are days, though, when enough is enough. It's time to silence that voice. I have no magic formula, but an interesting space for my head to go in those moments is to ask myself and answer, "What have you been doing?"
Try it. Reflect on your day, hour by hour. Reflect on your week, day by day. Go big, think about the past year. Zoom in on a specific segment of your life, like reflecting on the trips you've taken. Zoom out.
We do a lot. A lot of us do too much, even. A busy day, a busy week, a busy month are okay, fun many times, but I tend to see diminishing returns. The rush or energy dose you get from professional, social, personal busy-ness decreases over time, and we crave it. So we keep at it, pack in more, chasing that dragon. Often, the more you pack in, the lower the ROI.
Nevertheless, we often persist. Our thought patterns form, so you end up telling yourself, "I should be doing something now" when we have a bit of downtime or when we get restless.
So, when I'm on my game, I reflect. I go through my day, my week, my travels. A quick somersault through time. I do plenty, and I spend a high percentage of my time doing good stuff, including getting a good night's sleep. (That's another subject altogether.)
I do plenty. I also "just do stuff." Plenty of personal, travel, education, career stuff. I mean, in 1993, which was A LOT different than today in terms of mobility, tech, and communication (to name three of a million different things), I moved to California with our family dog. I stayed in South Lake Tahoe, California, for six years (though I lived in neighboring Nevada for about a year of that), working in operations and marketing at Caesars Tahoe; then in 1999, I boldly pivoted from that successful work to nonfiction book editing and project management in Sacramento, and parlayed that work experience to a move to Minnesota, with a different dog, in 2001; went to Brazil and the Amazon jungle . . . and so forth.
If you want to hear more, or more details on the above, buy me a beer.
I used the "boldly" above very intentionally. We've all been bold. Bold is relative. Bold is smart. Bold can be forgotten. Bold should be remembered. If you do stuff, you're bold.
