On Self-Improvement

Leo Babauta has a big post on quashing the self-improvement urge.

I don’t love it.

So what’s the problem? You could say it’s great that people are constantly trying to improve themselves, but where does it end? When is anyone ever content with who they are? We are taught that we are not good enough yet, that we must improve, and so … we always feel a little inadequate.

I do say it’s great that people are constantly trying to improve themselves. It’s what I’m doing, and I think it’s what most self-aware people are doing. But, while I do strive to get better, I also feel proud of who I am at the same time. That varies from day to day, but overall I’m a self-confident person. I wasn’t always, but luckily my parents dragged me to a karate class when I was nine, and I was able to develop a sense of self-worth. I found a drive within myself to get better, but it didn’t come from being told “You suck!” all the time; it came from a desire to be awesome. So while I suppose I did feel “inadequate”, it inspired me to grow into a better, stronger person. Why would I want to be content with being a shy little dork? (Part of me remains a shy little dork, of course.)

We are never adequate, never perfect, never self-confident, never good enough, never comfortable with ourselves, never satisfied, never there, never content.

While I’m sure some people feel that way, I think it’s a sweeping generalization. There’s a big difference between wanting to get better and thinking you’re a worthless human being with nothing to offer anyone. I hope the latter are a minority.

And it becomes the reason we buy self-help products, fitness products, gadgets to make us cooler, nicer clothes, nicer cars and homes, nicer bags and boots, plastic surgery and drugs, courses and classes and coaches and retreats. It will never stop, because we will never be good enough.

I agree that much consumerism is driven by a feeling of lack, and that many people attach their self-worth to their possessions. It’s a tenet of eastern philosophy, and that line of thinking is obviously incorrect.

I think there are two levels to this “self-improvement is bad” argument:

1. Self-improvement is bad because it convinces people to buy things they don’t need, like self-help books.
2. Self-improvement is bad because it never allows people to be happy.

I agree with number one. Advertising that suggests, “You need to eat this! You need to wear this! You need to buy this!” scares people into spending money. It’s like when the news tells us to stock up on bottled water, canned food, and generators because there’s snow in the forecast. “Self-help” as an industry is in fact probably unhealthy. Everyone has issues, but that doesn’t mean everyone needs to buy XYZ product. That’s just about the money.

I disagree with number two. If self-improvement consumes your existence, then yeah, that’s bad. But it’s not difficult to see how people can aspire to be better without becoming debilitated in the process.

We must improve. We must read every self-improvement book. When we read a blog, we must try that method, because it will make us better. When we read someone else’s account of his achievements, his goal system, his entrepreneurial lifestyle, her yoga routine, her journaling method, her reading list, we must try it. We will always read what others are doing, in case it will help us get better. We will always try what others are doing, try every diet and every system, because it helped them get better, so maybe it will help us too.

I suppose that would be the case for an individual incapable of thinking for themselves — and perhaps that’s the majority of the population — but not everyone looking for self-improvement lives that way. The way to self-improvement lies in introspection. But that’s not to say we can’t or shouldn’t learn from others.

New information must be considered before being implemented. We must evaluate new information before deciding if it’s applicable to us.

Would that be horrible, if we were just content and didn’t need to better ourselves every minute of every week? Would we be lazy slobs, or would we instead be happy, and in being happy do things that make us happy rather than make us better?

But doesn’t getting better make people happy? Again, there’s a difference between wanting to get better and being obsessed with your own inadequacy. Too much of any thing isn’t good for you. If the quest for self-improvement causes you to neglect other aspects of your life, then yes, it’s probably time to reevaluate. But self-improvement is not inherently bad, so long as it’s done in moderation, like anything else.

Think of how [being content] might simplify your life. Think of how many self-improvement books you read, or listen to in the car. Think of how many products you buy to make yourself better. Think of how many things you read online, in the hopes of being better. Think of how many things you do because you feel inadequate. Think of how much time this would free up, how much mental energy.

Yes, it would help many people who are consumed by their feelings of inadequacy. While books and audio tapes may contain valuable information, looking for magic bullets in them is futile.

Realize that you are already perfect. You are there. You can breathe a sigh of relief.

Striving to get better is not the same as striving for perfection. If you were perfect, you’d never make a mistake, and that’s unhealthy.

You are not perfect. But you’re probably awesome anyway.

Quash the urge to improve, to be better. It only makes you feel inadequate.

But a feeling of inadequacy often inspires us to get better, to learn new things, and to grow. You can’t grow if you think you’ve nothing left to learn. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to get better as long as it’s not hurting you or someone else.

Ultimately, I see what Leo is saying, but to suggest that all self-improvement is bad doesn’t make sense. Striving for contentment is itself a form of self-improvement. Growing is what life is about.

I can think of nothing more valuable than having an unconditional love for yourself. That love should be for your strengths and your weaknesses. You should be happy with who you are while recognizing your flaws, and yes, striving to improve them. These flaws do not render you a broken or worthless human being. On the contrary, they are as much a part of who you are as your best qualities.

I agree that people shouldn’t beat themselves up over their inadequacies. Don’t feel bad about not being perfect; no one is, and you’re awesome. But still try to be the best person you can be. Why wouldn’t you?

I say love yourself right now, and get better all the time; it’ll only give you more reasons to love yourself.

And then explore the world of contentment. It’s a place of wonderment.

Well, that’s true.

Perfectionism as Practice

Cal Newport discusses the difference between controlled and pathological perfectionism:

The important part of my process — the part that separates this obsessiveness with the pathological variety — is that when my interval is done, I stop. Inevitably, I’m still well short of an ideal output, but what matters to me is not this specific outcome, but instead the striving for perfection and the deliberate practice this generates.

In other words, I want to keep getting better, not necessarily make this particular project the best thing ever.

Really, really good stuff.

Push-up Habits

On Wednesdays, I teach the black belt class and the junior beginner class back-to-back. The black belt class is for ages twelve and younger, and the junior beginner class is for white, yellow, and orange belts, ages seven to eleven.

The difference between the two classes is striking for a number of reasons, some of which are on my end, and some of which are on the students’. For my part, the black belts get to learn advanced material, while the beginners work on the basics. The black belts sweat and throw each other around, while the beginners have fun and learn about respect, self-discipline, and self-control.

However, what the juxtaposition of these two classes illuminates is the level of enthusiasm between a beginner and an advanced student. While the length of their careers evidences their love of the martial arts, the black belts are often lazy and complacent because they’ve been doing it for so long. They’re comfortable, and it takes extra effort on my part to keep them motivated, interested, and at peak performance.

By contrast, the beginners are hungry, brimming with excitement, and eager to please. Everything is new, so they don’t mind doing jumping jacks, push-ups, and sit-ups. It’s still fun because they haven’t amassed the thousands of repetitions that come with wearing a black belt.

These two dynamics are ironic because my expectations for the black belts are much higher than they are for the beginners, but the beginners exceed my expectations far more frequently than the black belts do.

One pet peeve of mine is when a black belt wimps his way through a set of push-ups with terrible form, rushing just to get them over with. It’s inexcusable. Upon seeing this today, I realized that such a student suffers from one thing: bad habits.

Somewhere along the way, they allowed themselves to get by with crappy push-ups, and now they can’t imagine doing them any other way.

The problem with bad habits is that the longer they’ve existed, the harder they are to rectify. Hence, my inability to cure certain students of their straight-leg syndrome, noodle-arm disease, or mountain-butt push-ups. As I explained to them, I can only tell them what to fix so many times; eventually, the change has to come from within. Self-discipline is the name of the game.

I’ve only been working with this particular generation of black belts for about seven months — a fraction of their training — while I’ve known most of the beginners from day one. It dawned on me that I did not want these beginners to lose their enthusiasm or develop bad habits that would plague them for the rest of their martial arts careers.

As such, we spent about ten minutes discussing what makes a good push-up, what bad habits to avoid, and what good habits to cultivate instead. Nothing depresses me more than seeing an advanced student with his arms out in front of him and his butt up in the air, bobbing his head like a chicken and groaning because I told him to do twenty-five. I told the beginners that if they wanted to get stronger, they needed to start doing good push-ups right now. If you develop bad habits now, I said, you will always groan over push-ups because they will always be painful and difficult. But if you learn to do them right — even if you can only do one — you’ll get stronger every single day. That’s when one becomes two, and two becomes ten.

Imagine doing crappy push-ups for four years; they’re still going to hurt, even after all that time. But imagine doing awesome push-ups for four years; think of how many you’d be able to do! I’ve learned to love push-ups by doing a lot of them properly. As I stressed to the class, creating a foundation of good habits serves you well time and time again.

I don’t mean to tout my teaching abilities, but the “good habits vs bad habits” lesson seemed to resonate, and it got me thinking about my own bad habits, which kick my ass on a daily basis:

I’m pretty sure I’ve been biting my nails since birth.

I will go to bed at 3am and sleep until noon if left undisturbed.

I usually say, “Nothing.” when asked what’s bothering me.

Just to name a few. Some time long ago, I picked these things up, and now I struggle with them. Sometimes I can stop biting my nails for a few weeks, but I always regress. Alarms and obligations do a pretty good job of managing my sleep schedule, and sometimes I’ll be comfortable enough to express myself openly. But it’s always an effort.

A foundation of good habits is invaluable. You can’t be a strong martial artist if you have a weak horse-stance. You just can’t. And bending your knees after years of having straight legs hurts like hell.

Tri-dentity

I’ve been struggling lately with the concept of having multiple identities and not knowing which should be my primary identity.

Like most people, I have several big interests that make up who I am. Writing is one, martial arts is another, and so is music and bass playing. Depending on the time of day, I might say any one of those is my favorite. There are times when I’m so obsessed with writing, but just as often I find myself frustrated and with nothing to say. Likewise, there are times when I adore playing my bass, and there are times when the music escapes me.

Sometimes I wish I could just do one thing and get really, really great at it. Sometimes I wish I could practice playing bass all day, every day. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have anything to do but write this website. Sometimes I wish all I needed to focus on was my martial arts training.

I got to work out with a champion tournament fighter today, and I found myself thinking, “Wouldn’t it be great if martial arts was my life?”. I would love to be able to work out every day and train without having to worry about anything else. But tomorrow, I’ll probably wish I didn’t have to work so I could write. And the next day, I’ll probably want to play my bass for eight hours.

Part of this struggle comes from only having so many hours in the day. I want to be awesome, and I feel to truly master any of these skills, I’d have to fully immerse myself in only one of them. If I want to be a world class bass player, I need to play every day. If I want to be a respected writer, I need to write every day. If I want to be a certain caliber of martial artist, I need to train every day.

I guess what it comes down to is trying to figure out who I want to be for the rest of my life. I’m finishing my formal education and looking for what’s next. Do I want to be Andrew Marvin the Writer, the Bass Player, or the Black Belt? Or something else? I suppose I’ll always be all three, but which do I want to become known for? Then again, who says I have to choose?

So goes the quarter-life crisis, I suppose.

Talker's Block

Seth Godin on talker’s block:

The reason we don’t get talker’s block is that we’re in the habit of talking without a lot of concern for whether or not our inane blather will come back to haunt us. Talk is cheap. Talk is ephemeral. Talk can be easily denied.

We talk poorly and then, eventually (or sometimes), we talk smart. We get better at talking precisely because we talk. We see what works and what doesn’t, and if we’re insightful, do more of what works. How can one get talker’s block after all this practice?

Writer’s block isn’t hard to cure.

Just write poorly. Continue to write poorly, in public, until you can write better.

I’m not even going to try to add any commentary to this because it’s so good and so essential, and I’d rather just read it again. It’s all about not giving up in your quest to get better.

Read Seth’s entire post. Also, be sure to watch the amazing advice from Ira Glass.

Getting Better All the Time

Richard J. Anderson, in his essay, “On Doing Less, Better”:

How do I become better? The perfect may be the enemy of the good, as Voltaire claims, but how can one reach perfect without at least churning out a lot of good, mediocre, or downright awful things?

In my response to one of Richard’s previous essays, I stated that perfection is unattainable, which I still believe. Even if it is attainable, I think it’s such a remote possibility that the pursuit of it would only lead to discouragement. Or insanity.

The pursuit of getting better is much more realistic and accessible. Getting better at what you do is more sensible than trying to be perfect at it.

I want to be a better writer.

What does that mean? Writing better sentences? Having better ideas? Getting better recognition? I think yes to all three.

Whatever you want to get better at — writing, gymnastics, architecture, being a person, — knowing what constitutes that version of yourself is important.

But once the “what” is established, the question becomes, “How do I get there?”

I want to be taken seriously as a writer, and I want this website to be seen as professional. Now, maybe that’s because the site is young, and I feel like I have something to prove, which is probably true. Can I write something besides an academic essay and make it worthwhile? I don’t want to be another twenty-something with a Blogger account writing about my bad day.

I love writing this website, and I feel a great deal of pride for what gets posted here. I don’t know if it’s any good, but I’m proud of it. Proud enough to put my name at the top.

I want to make it better, and I want to write more, but as Richard hints at in his essay, it’s hard finding time for your passions in a world full of obligations. I’m trying to find a job, and a place to live, and time to exercise, and (don’t tell anyone) I have a thesis to write on Middle English lyric poetry. All while working and hopefully getting a good night’s sleep. Finding the time to write is a challenge in itself, and making actual writing come out is an even greater struggle.

But it’s the only way to get better.

How am I going to become a better writer if I don’t write? Thinking and daydreaming is nice, but it’s not the answer. No matter how many karate books you read, you won’t be a black belt until you put on a gi and get in the dojo. And even then, you’ve only just set foot on a path to a goal far off on the horizon.

But the thing is, every step forward brings you closer to that horizon. To be a better writer, I have to write. Every day. On some days, only crap will come out, and in the beginning, the crappy days will probably come one after another. Eventually, though, they’ll grow fewer and farther between. Or maybe they won’t, but the odds are much better than if I don’t write at all.

Perfection has a sense of finality to it. It’s an end result. Once you become a perfect writer, what’s the point in continuing to write? But the road to getting better is endless. You can always get better.

Richard:

What good is being done with something if you can’t look at it and say that, “Yes, that was worth the effort. That was me doing my best. Now, let me try to do even better.”

Right. That’s why I love golf. You’re never a perfect golfer; it’s something you can work on your whole life, if you wish. You don’t have to stop at a certain age, or when you graduate from school. The same goes for writing. You’re never done with getting better. That’s not depressing; it’s inspiring. If I write every day for 365 days, how much better will I be in a year? In five years? In ten?

Richard concludes:

What matters is doing the thing that inspires me, that makes me happy, that leaves me with a sense of pride, and that’s writing good stuff.

Writing this site inspires me, and it makes me happy and proud. I don’t know if it’s any good, but at the very least, I feel like I’m getting better. My chances of becoming a better writer are much greater now than if I was lying on the couch thinking about all the great essays I’ll write someday. As long as I don’t give up, I won’t be any worse of a writer. The more I write, the greater the chance something pretty good might come out. I like my odds.