Of all the Ware siblings, I took the longest to learn to ride my bicycle. After the training wheels came off, I would push off from the ground, take a few peddles, and then my foot would come down. The sole of my sneaker sending loose gravel scattering as I cut my speed. I’d regain my composure, push again off the ground, another few peddles, and then cut the speed with my shoe. Rolling down Juno Drive never letting my invisible speedometer break five miles per hour. Peddle, peddle, ssskkkrrushhh … peddle, peddle, sssshkrrush.
I was learning to ride, but I was only halfway in. I kept my foot out for safety - my option to bail out remained open as long as it was there. If things ever starting moving too quickly I could always step off and avoid injury. The important thing was that I’m riding the bike, right? But that’s not true. You can’t ride a bike at slow speeds. You’re required to excuse yourself of your connection to the ground. You have to press on both peddles and let the tires be your feet. You have to let go, feel the wind in your hair and listen to the spokes whine across the concrete. Otherwise you’re not riding a bike, you’re pushing it.
Every word of the last three newsletters has been written within 24 hours of me publishing it. I’ve had a whole week and the final product was mashed together in a handful of panicked writing sessions. I’ll sit down to write four to five days a week. Every piece of the other sessions gets scrapped. The prose is awful, the topic is unclear, I doubt any of you would want to read any of it. I write out a few paragraphs and then I pull myself to a halt on the keyboard. Who I am to make myself heard?
It isn’t until the pressure of a deadline looms over me like Freddy Krueger that the doubt quiets down. I’ve made a promise to write this every Wednesday, something needs to be written. So the words flow out. The shame of failing to publish outweighs the shame of publishing something atrocious.
I’ve always been the type to try. To learn to ride the bike, to embrace rejection in sales, to volunteer for the leadership position; but I do so with my foot out for balance. Halfway committed like when you first learned to dive and your hands came to a point over your head but your feet still hit the water first. I begin to pick up speed, and then the foot wants to come down. I’m gaining speed and the faster I go the harder I’m going to hit the ground if I fall. I am going to fall, I tell myself.
Nothing great has ever been accomplished by people who are only halfway committed. Nobody has ever won the Tour de France ready to bail off their bicycle if the terrain started getting rough. So why do we do it?
Because we doubt ourselves. We tell ourselves we probably aren’t good enough, that there are others much better than us, that the time isn’t right, that we don’t actually want to do it that badly anyway.
Are we good enough?
Probably not.
Does it matter?
Whether you’re good enough, or not, it’s happening. You’re doing it. You can stop yourself from picking up speed or you can find out for yourself how fast this bicycle can move.
I’m teaching myself to let go. I’m learning to ignore that voice in my head that tells me to cut my speed when I get going. Sure, I might hurt myself, but as long as the door to failure is blocked so is the door to success.
What about you?
What’s something you want to do that you keep stopping yourself from gaining momentum in?
Maybe you’d like to start your own business. Maybe you’re selling your art. Every day you sit down and pour your heart out onto the page, or into the fabric, or the clay. You create this thing and then when you’re done you look at what you’ve made and say to yourself “No. Nobody would ever buy this. I could never make money with this”. You put your foot down.
You’d like to get into great shape. You’ve started a new fitness plan and you take some of the advice. You try to move everyday, but some of the exercises are unfamiliar to you. You doubt you would have the willpower to resist eating unhealthy foods. You say to yourself “No. I could never learn this exercise. I’m too uncoordinated, I’d look silly. I could never find the time to cook healthy food for myself. At least I’m doing something. I could never be in great shape anyway.”
Or you’re like me. You want to start publishing. For months and months I would write things down in my journal but the words weren’t for me. They were directed outwards to the world. They wanted to be shared. I’d say to myself “No. Nobody would ever want to read this. You aren’t funny enough, or smart enough. Your words have no presence and, what’s more, even if you practiced regularly they would never be good enough to live anywhere outside your own journal. At least you’re writing for yourself, let that be good enough”.
Everything that you tell yourself to prevent you from committing to a goal is bullshit.
Your Self Doubt is made up. It’s not real. It’s not even coming from you.
In The War of Art, Stephen Pressfield introduced me to Resistance.
Resistance is the force of nature that prevents us from pursuing any creative goal. It’s the rational voice in our heads, its the foot that cuts our speed on our bicycle, its every excuse we give ourselves to hide our art from the world.
There is no Self Doubt, there is only Resistance.
Resistance is the most toxic force on the planet. It is the root of more unhappiness than poverty, disease, and erectile dysfunction. To yield to Resistance deforms our spirit. It stunts us and makes us less than we are and were born to be. If you believe in God (and I do) you must declare Resistance evil, for it prevents us from achieving the life God intended when He endowed us with our own unique genius. Genius is a Latin word; the Romans used it to denote an inner spirit, holy and inviolable, which watches over us, guiding us to our calling.
Every sun casts a shadow, and genius’s is Resistance. As powerful as is our soul’s call to realization, so potent are the forces of Resistance arrayed against it. Resistance is faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, harder to kick than crack cocaine.
You see?
It’s not you that’s doubting yourself. That’s what Resistance wants you to think. It thrives off your reasons and helps you create more of them.
You are no more capable of doubting your ability than the sun is capable of rising in the West and setting in the East. You are only able to harbor your genius and take actions towards your dreams, or fall victim to resistance. You’re not afraid of failing, or being judged, or falling off your bicycle. Those things are going to happen anyway if you don’t take your foot off the break. You’re believing Resistance when it says that trying and failing will hurt more than not trying at all.
I cannot come anywhere close to capturing the magic of Stephen Pressfield’s magnum opus in this short newsletter (there’s my Resistance showing up). Stephen Pressfield wrote for 27 years before publishing his first novel. Most of that time was spent running from his calling, believing what Resistance was telling him. He’s now published over a dozen novels and his core, non-fiction works - The War of Art, Do The Work, and Turning Pro - will fundamentally change the way you view self doubt and pursuing a calling.
I will personally buy a copy of The War of Art for the first person who asks me.
I played around with the idea of writing a newsletter for months before I published anything. I needed the website to be right. I needed to have a few articles already written in case I fell behind. I needed to figure out an overlying theme for my writing. Ultimately, none of it mattered and I was no closer to starting. In a moment of frustration I texted my friend, David.
David and I are ultra competitive with each other so the thought of having to Venmo him money makes my skin crawl.
So I started writing and in my first post I committed publicly to writing 52 newsletters over the course of the next year. Now I have external pressure. Now I look silly if I stop writing. Resistance is still a much stronger force, but now I have a leg to stand on at the very least.
If you’re struggling with starting, do this. Right now. Text your friend and tell them you will have started your Etsy business by this time next month, or you will have recorded and produced your first track and placed it on Soundcloud, or whatever it is that you want to do. Putting it into the world reduces the grip of Resistance.
You are so much more capable than you think you are. Stop believing anything that resistance tells you. Stop doubting yourself. It gets you nowhere and it protects you from nothing.
I’ve spent most of my life ready to stop myself from picking up speed on my bicycle but I’m committing to taping my foot to the peddle.
I welcome you to join me.
Doubt, one of my biggest obstacles… ugh!