Eric Tian

It’s easy to get caught up in titles.

I’m a high achiever. I’m an athlete. I’m someone who is productive. Although these can be great for self-confidence, nouns can contain hidden dangers. Here’s three:

Firstly, nouns can narrow the boundaries of your self-worth. If you’re an “athlete” but suddenly suffer a traumatic injury, your identity is shattered. You will never again reach the level of excellence you once had; this can be severely disorienting. But if you think of yourself as someone who exercises, you still have scope to do that in your new circumstance. Verbs tend to have a broader scope than nouns, meaning your self-worth isn’t so limited.

Secondly, nouns can be wildly delusional. For example, a Christian is not something you are, it’s something you do. You take the steps to read the Bible; to treat people around you kindly; to let a God shape your life. It is not enough to think, “alas, I am saved! God will save me from all my sins.” Your actions; your decision to submit to a God must reflect your being. If your inner and outer behaviour is no different to an ordinary atheist, you’re probably deluding yourself.

Similarly, if you haven’t written, ran or read anything in years, can you really call yourself a writer, runner or reader? Or are you merely holding onto a past glory?

To get to know people, I used to ask strangers, who are you? I thought this question sounded deep and thought-provoking. But I’ve since found that a better question is, how do you spend your time? This is often closer to the truth in getting to know someone’s priorities.

Lastly, nouns limit the potential of who you can be. If you call yourself an artist, that almost predestines yourself to fulfil that title. Your world is focused around that one identity.

This can be great if you’re determined to succeed in one field alone. But as mentioned earlier, nouns can be volatile depending on changing circumstances. Your level of excellence right now may be your life’s peak. Instead, it’s much easier to not really be tied up to an identity and just be free to do things whenever you choose. We are verbs, not nouns.

From Stephen Fry:

Oscar Wilde said that if you know what you want to be, then you inevitably become it – that is your punishment, but if you never know, then you can be anything. There is a truth to that. We are not nouns, we are verbs. I am not a thing – an actor, a writer – I am a person who does things – I write, I act – and I never know what I am going to do next. I think you can be imprisoned if you think of yourself as a noun.

A definition I like of sunk costs: a gift from your former self.

If someone gave you a computer that was half broken, you probably wouldn’t accept it – you’d get a proper one. If someone gave you a project you’d hate doing, you probably wouldn’t take it – you’d go and do something you’d like. So, why do we hold onto things like this when our former self gives it to us?

We often hold onto our past accomplishments and hard-earned statuses far longer than we should. The only way to keep growing is to do something new – and the path to something new requires you to leave things behind.

Credits: Seth Godin

The very nature of ‘urgent’ means that it cannot and will not persist.

So if you have a problem that needs solving but you feel too tired to act, make it urgent. Force yourself to take action when you don’t want to. Here are some ways to do that:

1. Make the consequence terrible

If the world explodes if you don’t do 10 push-ups, you’ll probably do some push-ups. Similarly, set yourself a consequence so severe that makes your current excuses pale in comparison. Some ideas for making a task urgent:

• Pay someone a lot of money if you don’t do it
• Have someone slap you if you don’t do it
• Feel ashamed if you don’t do it

Much of this comes from having someone to hold you accountable. It’s important this accountability partner is merciless: the task is either done or it’s not – no exceptions. If it’s not, the punishment is carried out ruthlessly.

Unless you’re high in neuroticism, don’t trust yourself to punish yourself. You run the risk of letting yourself off easy, and then the urgent matter becomes unimportant.

2. Love your work

This is the ideal way to operate. Make your work so enjoyable that it would feel bad to not do it. A day where this task isn’t done is a day wasted in your eyes.

To me, this is writing. A day without journaling is a bad day and so I don’t hesitate when I need to write. I like it enough that it just gets done each day: kind of how we drink when we’re thirsty or eat when hungry. It’d just be weird not to do it.

Maybe we all have something we’d like to do; an idea, a passion, a little firefly at the back of our minds whispering, what if? A force that has been hidden from sight for so long but is still waiting to be acknowledged. If so, one way to pay attention to that light is to force it out into the spotlight until it blinds us.

Make it urgent.

If you were in the US House of Representatives in 1800, there was an important decision to be made. An electoral college tie between Thomas Jefferson and Aaron Burr has led to the first contingent election in history; who becomes president is in your hands.

The problem is, the Federalists support Burr and the Demographic-Republicans support Jefferson. It looks like we’re in deadlock. Which party will trickle over to the other side first to decide a result?

This is one of the dilemmas told in the hit musical Hamilton, which tells the story of American founding father Alexander Hamilton: his life, death and influence over how American history played out. In this pivotal moment, where the contingent election appears to be in deadlock, Hamilton announces his opinion on which of the two candidates he prefers – a statement which would ultimately decide the election results.

Although Hamilton has always battled Jefferson as a rival whereas Burr was an early friend, Hamilton declares in the musical: when all is said and done / Jefferson has beliefs. Burr has none. Hamilton would rather back somebody with wrong principles than someone devoid of many. This support ultimately leads some Federalists to switch allegiances, voting Jefferson in as the 3rd President of the United States from 1801 to 1809, with Burr serving as vice-president.

Hints for this result can be found earlier in the musical when a younger Hamilton asks Burr, If you stand for nothing, Burr, what’ll you fall for? The young Hamilton is frustrated at Burr’s inability to fully support a cause: revolution or monarchy under King George III? Freedom or consistency? This indecision for action ultimately proves to be Burr’s political downfall.

As someone who is high in openness, it’s easy to have no opinions. You can see both sides of an argument, understand their merits and this leaves you paralysed. Having firm beliefs about anything is difficult because you can see the faults in any singular view and you don’t want to believe in anything shaky. And so, the default solution is just to do nothing. No opinions is safe.

But the problem with having no opinions is that if you stand for nothing, what do you fall for? If you can’t articulate your values to anybody, what will you do when you are forced to confront them for yourself? Compare these two: a man who firmly believes in something wrong and a man who timidly believes in nothing. One is arrogant, the other is a coward. I think deep down I’d respect the arrogant person more. If God were to judge these two men, I think he would reward courage over being safe. The Hamiltons over the Burrs. If you think about it, Jesus Christ is probably one of the most courageous persons in history.

And so this is a dilemma I’ve been wrestling with: to be a safe coward and stay true to openness, or to recklessly adopt an opinion for the sake of courage. Is there a middle ground? I don’t know. Maybe there’s a compromise or a piece of the puzzle I’m missing.

But this I know: standing and falling for nothing seems like a pretty dull way to exist.

Some common phrases and their possible meanings:

“I don’t have time to do this” = This is not a priority.

“I can’t do that” = I don’t believe I am able to do that.

“That is unfair” = My expectations did not line up with reality.

But also:

“I don’t have time to do this” = I very much want to do this but I have too many responsibilities that I am powerless to overcome.

“I can’t do that” = I am too physically, mentally or spiritually broken to do anything you ask of me.

“That is unfair” = What has happened here is a breach of any form of justice. I deserve more than this.

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If we look hard enough, we can make any person look like pathetic. It’s easy to critique another’s actions as being hypocritical and then mock them from our morally superior pedestal.

But we often forget that we all live in our own narratives. One person’s “excuse” can be another’s “only answer”. To the person who sees “I don’t have time” as This is not a priority, anyone saying “I don’t have time” may just use it as an excuse for inaction. Yet, to the single mother in an abusive relationship with multiple children, the story isn’t so easy. Perhaps to her, “I don’t have time” isn’t a matter of choice, but of necessity. She may be powerless to escape her awful position. It is awfully arrogant to paint this mother as a hypocrite.

Perhaps people would be happier if we gave each other the benefit of the doubt more often.

I used to have a proclivity for excessive apologies.

If I felt an interaction fading, I’d say sorry for being so boring. If someone helped solve one of my problems, I’d say sorry for being such a failure. If someone was unexpectedly generous with their efforts, I’d say sorry for wasting your time.

If someone told me to stop apologising, I’d say ah okay… sorry.

But recently, I’ve found that in many cases it’s much better to replace “sorry” with “thank you”. For example:

• Sorry for being so boring -> Thank you for spending time with me.
• Sorry for being such a failure -> Thank you for helping me with my mistake.
• Sorry for wasting your time -> Thank you for your efforts!

There are two main problems with excessively apologising. First, it conditions you resent yourself. You begin to see yourself as incapable, worthless and always to blame. The moment you change your dialogue to “thank you”, you begin to be more grateful for the situation. It also removes any guilt from the interaction which the other party might be uncomfortable with. The event hasn’t changed at all, but the feeling is completely transformed.

Second, too many apologies begin to lose their worth over time. If you apologise for everything, it’s impossible to tell when you are being truly apologetic since you do it so often. It’s like a form of inflation. On the other hand, if you reserve your apologies for genuine moments of heartfelt apology, the effect is much more profound.

Of course, there’s a time and place for genuine apologies. If you have truly wronged somebody or want to show sympathy, “sorry” is a great tool to show this. But for the other times, it might be worth considering whether our response to a question could be rephrased as a “thank you”.

Sometimes people ask me where I get my writing ideas from. The question often comes after I’ve suggested starting a blog so they can share their ideas with the world. “I’m just not sure I have anything to share”, they confess. “If you asked me to write something now I don’t think I could.”

My follow-up question is always, “how do you take notes on your life?”

The answer is often, “I don’t.”

Interesting ideas can be kind of random. They can hit you anytime: during meditation, walking, showering or on the brink of sleep. Problem is, if we don’t record the idea down it gets lost, disappeared into nothingness. We may as well have never thought of it at all.

If we’re interested in examining our thoughts, it’s critical that we practice being receptive to them. And a great way to do this is to develop a habit of rigorous documentation. There are many ways to do this, but my personal system predominantly uses words in both digital and analog formats.

The digital format is with Notion. It’s simply a page titled the page of that month and contains every random passing thought that interests me. This is my first line system of roughly shoving ideas in, making sure they don’t escape. New months get a new page. I always have this Notion tab open on my computer so I can reach it if I’m online. If I’m out in the world, I pull open the app on my phone and quickly jot something down. Notes from podcasts and audiobooks go in here too.

The analog format is with my journal. This is where most of the organisation happens – where I think about the scattered ideas that have hit me and try and connect the dots. Where did that idea come from? Why did I respond in that way? How can I apply this to my life? This is a much slower practice with pen and paper that requires time. But usually, it’s this deliberate reflection that makes the biggest difference.

Going back to the start: the vast majority of my posts here were first written in my journal. When I sit down to write, it’s very rare that I have to conjure up something from nothing. There’s usually a lot of page-flipping and reading my notes, wondering if this idea is worth sharing, too personal or requires further development.

It doesn’t really matter how you take notes on your life. I know people who draw, take photos or record videos. They might only occasionally write words down. That’s fine. The point is to find a way to record what you’re seeing, thinking or doing right now so it doesn’t get lost when you need to give a recount of your life.

Now, some people with sharp brains and great memories might think, “Okay, I resonate with this goal of living an examined life. But recording things down? Surely you can just remember things?” To which I’d answer:

Yes, it’s entirely possible that you tightly hold onto an interesting thought and never let it go. This often occurs in “lightbulb moments” we hear about, usually in the shower, where an idea hits you so strongly that it knocks the wind out of you.

But firstly, there are countless interesting thoughts that are so very subtle; ideas that just tickle your soul. If you’re distracted and numb to this, the thought will disappear into nothingness. The second problem is that your memory is falliable. Nobody’s memories are perfect. We’ve all forgotten things before, whether it be names, dates or events. You have no idea how many thoughts you swear you’d remember have been lost.

One of the saddest things about life is how little of it we remember.

From Nathaniel Drew‘s Skillshare course Document Your Life: 4 Methods to Live More Intentionally:

1. Keep it simple. Don’t think too hard about it. Want to take a photo? Use your camera phone. Want to journal? Just write one sentence. Progress starts small.

2. Date everything. You’ll be thankful you did when you look back on it in the future.

3. Be as clear as possible. Similar to 2. Don’t assume you’ll remember this moment later – write everything down. Names, places, colours: tell it as if you’re talking to a stranger.

4. Make sure you enjoy doing it. Never do anything you hate.

5. Make it accessible. Make it easy to document your life at any moment. Keep your tools small, simple and something you’d want to have around. Get used to carrying a camera or a journal with you wherever you go.

6. There’s no right way to do it. You can look to others for inspiration but ultimately, it’s up to you. The only “correct” way to do it is the way you’re happy with.

7. Think long-term. 20 years from now, you’ll be glad you started today. The mundane events today might be life-changing in the future. Record it down.

Goldilocks and the Three Bears is a story of getting things just right. In the fable, Goldilocks enters a house and sees three sets of porridge. However, one is too hot and one is too cold – only one is just right. She then comes across three chairs but one is too big and one is too small – only one fits her properly. Finally, she goes upstairs to sleep. There are three beds and – you guessed it – one is too hard and one is too soft. Only one is just right.

Austin Kleon recently took this just right idea and formed The Goldilocks Theory. Instead of porridge, chairs or beds Austin applied this to creativity and suggests that creative work happens when one finds a balance between being too happy to work and too depressed to work. I thought it was brilliant.

This theory rings true from personal experience. When I got my offer for medical school, I was so happy that I didn’t study for my final exams. Life was too good to work. But when the coronavirus lockdown hit and I was forced to study in sub-optimum conditions, I didn’t want to any more. Life was too dull for work.

Perhaps all levels of procrastination can be boiled down to one of these two reasons. On one end, sometimes we’re too happily engrossed in another activity to think of work. We’ll work when this excitement dies down. On the other hand, maybe we’re too anxious and depressed to start anything productive. We’ll work when we’re in a better frame of mind.

This theory is useful because if true, we can catch ourselves when we’re being lazy and ask ourselves: which end on the spectrum am I at right now? Is life too good to work, or too depressing?

But more importantly, we can ask ourselves: is this a problem? Because sometimes, it’s fine to be unproductive. A period of mourning may be the antidote for growth; a period of ecstasy may be a highlight for decades to come. Denying one of their emotional highs and lows to do more work is putting the cart before the horse. Isn’t the ultimate goal of work to feel good?

Related: The Parable of the Mexican Fisherman

Anyone who knows war films will know the movie Braveheart, a 3-hour historical epic about the life and sacrifice of a man named William Wallace. The film is based around the overthrow of King Edward in the 13th century and features a lot of fighting, politics and screaming. Classic war stuff, right?

But in his interview with Jordan B. Peterson, the producer of Braveheart Randall Wallace said something surprising.

I’ve been asked why I make war movies and I say, “I don’t. I make love stories. I want to know what you love enough to sacrifice your life for.”

When we think of war stories, we usually imagine what’s on the surface; the fighting, blood and the politics. We rarely think that behind all this violence is one of the purest of all emotions: love.

But if you think about it, all conflict is really about love. It’s about what you care enough to stand up for.

A child might love his sweets and yell for it. A teenager might love a cat and sacrifice money for it. A businessman might love power and neglect their health for it. And in perhaps the greatest sacrifice, a soldier might love his country enough to sacrifice their life for it.

War is love: what a strange but beautiful oxymoron.