Failure to Launch
If it only requires one step to begin the journey of 1,000 miles, why do we fail to take it, and how do we overcome our resistance?
It is not the lack of or inadequate planning. In fact, planning may cause paralysis by analysis. You are still in the profession you wanted to leave years ago because contemplating the innumerable possibilities put you in a state of suspended animation.
Or, knowing the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry, anticipating the inevitable interruption renders you incapable of acting.
Sometimes, we stifle action by fixating on the size of what is required. We do not lace up our shoes for the first one-mile training run because we are overwhelmed by the 1,000 miles of running needed before reaching the marathon starting line.
Nor is the failure to launch caused by failing to know your “why.” You want the good health required to dance at your granddaughter’s wedding 20 years from now, but the promised “next week” start to your fitness routine has never arrived.
The Smallest Action
We expect to launch with a loud bang, but any action in furtherance of your objective, even one that does not make any perceptible progress, activates the law of inertia in your favor.
Sometimes, a start is only stopping opposing inertia. One man who lost 100 pounds set an initial goal to stop gaining weight. By definition, this objective is ineffective; maintaining weight is not losing weight, but it stops digging a deeper hole. He then cut one food from his diet and, over time, added other healthy practices until he had to buy an entirely new wardrobe.
A start can arise from a half-hearted act. Legions of addicts, probably most, thinking they do not belong and without any intention of joining, begin their journey to sobriety by walking into a 12-step meeting.
Still do not believe? Starting has been the answer for you many times. Recall all those school and work projects that you fretted over for days or weeks only to discover that once started, you spent much more time and energy worrying about them than actually doing them.
Personal Problem
One of my significant deficiencies is that I start too late, do too little, and move too slowly.
Despite knowing that flossing is critical to oral health and suffering my dentist and hygienist’s disapproving looks for years, I did not floss. At my wit’s end, I simply created convenience by putting some easy-to-use floss picks next to my toothbrush.
The picks remained undisturbed but called out to me like Edgar Allan Poe’s Telltale Heart. I finally relented, but only to floss two molars and then only two days per week. The seed had been sown, and I added teeth and days over the next three months.
I could have done more sooner but intentionally throttled my progress to avoid the soon-to-fade beginner’s euphoria (i.e., working out every day for two weeks and promptly abandoning). I also established a routine well below perfection so I would not be intimidated by the impossibly high standard of every tooth every day.
The only redeeming virtue of my dreadfully delayed, meager, and slow process is accomplishment. The inevitable harvest arrived when my hygienist pronounced my gums healthy.
The Least You Can Do
Small actions are easily achievable and activate inertia. I did not need to muster the courage to floss all my teeth daily to put floss sticks in my toothbrush drawer. Showing up for one AA meeting is much easier than putting down the glass for the rest of your life.
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What small act can you perform that will serve as the catalyst to taking the remaining action needed to accomplish the goal that has eluded you? Remember, great oaks from little acorns grow and the hare and the tortoise.