Tag: habits

The Habit Trap

As I prepared to back out of my parking spot, I was on edge.

Our nation was two months into a blossoming pandemic. Due to virus concerns and stay-at-home orders, I hadn’t been out of my neighborhood much. But on this afternoon, I’d headed to FedEx to ship off some damaged headphones for repairs.

As I returned to my vehicle from that errand, I wasn’t in the best state of mind. But I still needed to get home, so I focused on the task at hand.

I put my SUV in reverse and took my foot on the brake. Then I peered over my left shoulder as the vehicle slowly moved backward. I wanted to make sure there wasn’t any cross traffic.

The coast was clear to my left. But before I could look to my right, I felt a dull thud.

I knew immediately what that meant. I’d collided with another vehicle.

I inched my SUV forward and put it in Park. Then I stepped outside to survey the damage.

It turned out that another driver was backing her SUV out of a nearby spot at the same time as I was. Neither one of us could see the other vehicle until it was too late.

The collision happened at a low speed, but there was still damage. My fender was dented in one spot, and it would need to be replaced. Her fender also had a few marks on it.

I checked to see if the other driver was alright. She did the same.

But then, the realities of pandemic life overtook us. We quickly exchanged insurance information and went our separate ways.

On my ride home, I kept replaying the incident in my mind. What could I have done differently to avoid this small calamity?

One answer kept coming to mind. I could have checked my backup camera more closely.

I’d owned my SUV for five years at this point. And yet, I hadn’t quite mastered the art of using the backup camera when I was in reverse.

None of the previous vehicles I’d driven had such technology on board. And that meant I was woefully prepared to use it.

Way back when I was learning to drive, I had been instructed to check my rearview mirror when backing out of a parking spot. I was also taught to check over each shoulder to make sure no cross traffic was in my way.

I had mastered these lessons. And over the years, they became fossilized habits.

Now, there was a backup camera in my vehicle that promised to replace all these arcane practices. The future was here. But I still didn’t fully trust it.

So, I fell back on old habits. I would check the camera for a moment, but then glance over each shoulder to ensure the coast was clear.

I got away with this sequence for years. But now, it had finally caught up with me.

And now, with a damaged fender in tow, my objective was clear. It was time to break with my old driving habits, for once and for all.

Back in 1925, a baseball player named Wally Pipp woke up with a headache.

Instead of manning first base for the New York Yankees, Pipp sat out the game. A young ballplayer named Lou Gehrig manned his position instead.

Pipp never regained his old role. Gehrig went on to play the next 2,130 games at first base for the Yankees, earning the nickname The Iron Horse. The streak only ended when Gehrig retired 14 years later, crippled by a strange ailment that would later bear his name — and claim his life.

The demise of Wally Pipp will forever remain a cautionary tale. But an ill-timed headache wasn’t the only reason Pipp lost his spot for good.

Gehrig had immense talent. His Hall of Fame accolades make that clear.

But Gehrig also had great habits. He prepared himself to play each and every day. He perfected his craft as a hitter and a fielder. And he made no excuses when he faced adversity.

For many years, Gehrig was overshadowed in baseball lore by Babe Ruth, Mickey Mantle, and Hank Aaron. But when I was young, his name came back into the spotlight.

A shortstop on the Baltimore Orioles was set to surpass The Iron Horse’s consecutive games streak. Cal Ripken, Jr. ultimately shattered the record, finishing with 2,632 consecutive games played. And in the process, he displayed the same stellar habits that Gehrig had six decades earlier.

I did not grow up as an Orioles fan, but I had plenty of respect for Ripken. I tried to follow in his and Gehrig’s footsteps, finding productive habits and latching on to them. Such commitments have kept me productive into adulthood.

But adhering to fundamentals is not a panacea. Preparation and discipline are timeless virtues, but the protocols for backing a car out of a parking spot are not.

Indeed, for all we complain about technology, it does drive progress.

The automobile goes faster than any tandem of horses ever could. Computers have transformed businesses in ways our legal pad-wielding predecessors could only dream of. The Internet has provided the world an unprecedented opportunity to connect in real-time.

Adopting these innovations has meant casting off old habits. And yet, as new protocols emerge, I still find myself struggling to adapt to them.

Grappling with novelty makes me feel vulnerable and powerless. So, I fall back on the familiar — even when such actions are fraught with danger.

I call this conundrum The Habit Trap. And all too often, it’s swallowed me whole.

There’s no experience quite like catching the sunrise.

A splash of light emerges from a dark sky. And with it comes a realm of new possibilities.

I’ve considered myself averse to novelty. And yet, I’ve found myself awestruck by the rising sun again and again.

It provides a sense of calm in the wake of uncertainty. It melds the familiarity of habit with the opportunity for improvement. It provides us balance and leaves us feeling whole.

Perhaps I can learn from the example of the sunrise.

For there are ways to wean ourselves off outdated routines. Instead of making a clean break, we can mix the uncomfortable with the familiar.

In my case, this has meant going through my peek-over-the-shoulder routine while my car is still in Park. I’m not going to catch much cross traffic this way — my view is blocked — but I won’t find myself colliding with other vehicles either.

For others stuck in The Habit Trap, the way out might look different. But the details are not what matters here. What’s important is that there is a way out.

We simply need to be strategic, intentional, and open-minded. We need to be willing to move toward a new normal, even if it takes us a little longer to leave the past behind.

If we do this, we can make The Habit Trap history. And we’ll be better for it.

So, let us begin.

The Consistency Paradox

The chains of habit are too light to be felt until they are too heavy to be broken. –Warren Buffet

As is often the case, the Oracle of Omaha knows of what he speaks.

Yes, we are creatures of habit. We’re drawn to consistency, like moths to a flame.

In a world that’s all too often unpredictable, routines give us a sense of calm. Habits help us attend to our needs while diffusing the stress that comes from surprises.

This isn’t always for the best. Some habits — alcoholism, compulsive gambling, or drug addiction, for instance — can destroy lives.

Then again, healthy routines can lead to substantial improvements. Exercising can help us stay fit. Cooking can stimulate our curiosity. Getting enough sleep can keep us energized throughout the day.

But these routines only work if we keep them consistent.

The end goal is tantalizing. So, we go all-in.

We watch TED Talks about habits. We read self-help books about healthy routines. We turn ourselves into models of consistency, in hopes of reaping the benefits.

But at what cost?

I am familiar with the seduction of routines. They’ve long been a prominent part of my life.

I’ve gone for a run at least once a week for the last 8 years, for instance. And every week for the last 5 years, I’ve put together a fresh article here on Words of the West.

Much has changed during that time — my job responsibilities, my home address, my orbit of friends and acquaintances. But through this evolution, my routines have kept me grounded. They’ve provided a clear path from then to now.

Yet, the recent global pandemic threw me for a loop. The world dramatically changed at its onset. And like many, I struggled to adapt.

While there was a temptation to retreat in the early days, I dug in. If anything, the stress and uncertainty spurred me to double down on my existing routines.

For example, I ramped up my exercise regimen to four days a week — all while moving my workouts outdoors. I set up a meal prep rotation, with new staples such as Slow Cooker Sundays. And instead of solely writing an article here each week, I also kept a daily account of my life in quarantine.

There was a method to my madness. Accelerating my habits would give me a semblance of control over the uncertainties of pandemic life. Staying consistent with my routines would help me bridge the pre and post-pandemic worlds.

At least that’s what I told myself.

But the pandemic far outlasted my quarantine. And with the world in an extended state of flux, my consistency began to turn into a crutch.

As friends and family tried to connect with me, I turned them down in order to prepare another homecooked meal. I cut back on my sleep time to make room for my writing habits. And I even tried to run on four inches of snow, just to keep from going a week without a workout.

Consistency had gotten me through a major disruption in my life. But it also blinded me to the situation at hand. And it prevented me from moving forward.

The best ability is availability.

This adage has practically become gospel in any industry that relies heavily on teamwork.

The premise is simple. Someone with raw potential alone can amaze. But if they’re only able to showcase those talents here and there, their long-term impact will be muted.

Reliability is at a premium in our society, whether we’re playing ball or bringing our lunch pail to the construction site. From our earliest days, we’re taught the virtues of consistency. We’re urged to do things the right way, over and over again.

There are some virtues to this doctrine. It’s helped us rebound from significant setbacks. And it’s allowed us to set a standard that can endure across generations.

But the reliability mandate also pins us under a substantial weight. It leaves us to wilt under the strain of legacy.

As our society innovates and grows, the old patterns we once espoused lose much of their muster. Yet, we recognize that those very patterns — our habits and routines — are what got us to such an inflection point. We are fond of those memories, and we’re hesitant to cast those patterns off.

This is The Consistency Paradox. It’s the recognition that the same rigor that helped make us great can keep us from becoming even greater.

The Consistency Paradox is what’s made But that’s the way we’ve always done it such a powerful retort. The Consistency Paradox is why pledges for changes in behavior patterns so frequently fall short.

And as the pandemic dragged on, I found myself running headlong into The Consistency Paradox.

I was opening myself up to a gauntlet of my own creation. But in doing so, I was closing the door to new opportunities.

When is the right time to change course?

This is the question that we must grapple with when it comes to routine.

In my case, establishing consistent habits was critical early in the pandemic. It allowed me to fill the void that emerged when the world shut down.

But those same advantages soon became liabilities. As the familiar faded out of sight, so did the significance behind my routines. I became nothing more than a misguided soul standing defiantly against the wind.

I had believed that dogged consistency would spare me the worst outcomes of the pandemic — serious illness, economic hardship, and a sense of disillusionment. But even with my supercharged exercise, cooking, and writing habits, I found myself reckoning with crippling anxiety, strained social ties, and divergence from rational thought.

I eventually changed my ways. I dialed back on my routines and allowed a measure of randomness to return to my life. Even with the lingering shadow of the pandemic, I’ve been happier since making that shift.

But I wish I could have seen the light earlier. If I had spent less time chained to pointless routines, how much better off would I be now?

I’m sure I’m not alone in wondering this. The Consistency Paradox is a subtle anchor, dragging us down without making us aware of our dire circumstances.

It takes some extreme introspection to free us of The Consistency Paradox’s smothering embrace. And introspection is not something we’re all that great at.

Even so, the time for excuses has long passed. We can do better. We must do better.

So let’s treat routine or habit the way we do caffeine or sugar — as something that’s most useful in moderation. Let’s maintain some spontaneity in our lives. And let’s approach the uncertain future with the same zeal with which we recount the sepia-toned past.

Consistency can lift us up. Let’s not allow it to drag us down.

Why I Abolished Hate

There was a time when I used the word hate.

It was generally in the context of a sports nemesis or a food I didn’t particularly care for. At times, hate would describe a thoroughly miserable activity, or my feelings about history’s most twisted despots.

Hate was a brief, yet definitive word — four letters with the bold power of a Chuck Norris roundhouse. It aroused emotion, displayed conviction, and demonstrated an uncommon strength of descriptive purpose.

It was the perfect word to describe, say, the Florida State Seminoles — the archrivals of my beloved Miami Hurricanes. Every time their fans celebrated a touchdown during my time in college — regardless of the opponent — I would feel sick to my stomach.

Hate remained in my lexicon into adulthood. If something really upset me, that four letter word became my go-to descriptor as I rehashed the incident over late night drinks with friends.

But recently, I realized the error of my ways, and I decided to make a change.

Now, hate is no longer in my vocabulary.

***

You see, hate is like gasoline. It boldly fuels any discussion it’s injected into — and it can quickly burn out of control.

When we say we hate something, we wish ill will upon it. Worse still, we wish pain and suffering upon it. The more we fixate our mind on these desires, the more dangerous they become.

Eventually hate can consume us, to the point where we become unbalanced and irrational. It’s at this point that those blinded by hate can cross the line from desiring the suffering of others to actually delivering it — causing shock, horror, pain and even more hate.

It’s a devastating, destructive cycle.

***

In the wake of the deadliest shooting in our nation’s history —one where someone used his contempt to deprive dozens of people of the most fundamental and precious thing they had — it’s time we think about the ramifications of hate.

The aggression, the senseless tragedy hate brings about — it’s simply unacceptable.

And it’s something we can prevent — by ridding ourselves of the sentiment in the first place.

We may not always identify with each other — I don’t personally identify with the LGBT community, the black community or the community of Florida State Seminole fans, for example — but we can still accept each other through our differences. We can at least find common ground there. We can, and we must.

This is why I abolished hate. This is why I sternly remind others that hate is a strong word whenever I hear them using it.

But it can’t start and end with just me. Everyone needs to pitch in.

We must abolish hate. Our future depends on it.

The Everyday Evolution

I don’t like change.

That’s a bit of an odd statement from someone who relocated three times in a seven-year span, but one filled with truth.

Some people get a rush from a constant stream of new adventures; I’m more comfortable with the tried-and-true routine.

But life doesn’t care about my comfort zone. My own biology doesn’t care about my comfort zone. And, to a certain extent, my mind doesn’t care about my comfort zone.

So I’ve made some big changes. My address, time zone, employer, career, sleep schedule and hobbies have all transformed in the past decade. To a certain degree, my temperament has too — I’ve come to embrace my introverted nature without becoming a hermit, come to embrace the serenity of silence at certain points during the week and come to find a balance between the times when I’m locked in and kicking back.

But most of these changes have been reactive. I had to adapt in order to play the hand I’d been dealt, regardless of how I ended up at the table in the first place. And a reactional change is more about self-preservation than self-improvement.

There ain’t much shame in survival, according to Darwin. (The Donner Party notwithstanding.) But there’s little to be gained from it.

So in the past year, I’ve pivoted. I’ve decided to make change a proactive part of my life.

It started with a reactive decision. Noticing that my wallet was empty but my fridge was full of beer one evening, I decided to cut beer from my grocery list — for good. Suddenly, another thought popped in my head, unprovoked: While I’m at it, why don’t I also commit to eating out less often?

Soon, I was bringing my lunch to work 4 days a week, and preparing meals at home every weeknight. Not coincidentally, I gradually stopped eating all fast food.

Next up was Dr Pepper. I quit that — and all other soft drinks — cold turkey about 8 months ago, followed by other sugary drinks like sweet tea, protein shakes and Gatorade. Eventually, I purged sugar itself — aside from the occasional donut at the office or slice of pecan pie at a restaurant.

At the same time, I increased my workout load, committed to taking multi-mile walks on weekends and even added fruit and vegetables to my diet.

And food wasn’t the only part of my life that changed. I cut back on traveling, going to sporting events, shopping and other thrill-seeking events — committing much of that time and energy toward initiatives like Words of the West, fitness, cooking and self-education.

A lot of wholesale change, all inspired by one choice to stop buying beer.

Now, you might think that replacing so many things I like with those that I was once ambivalent to would be a soul-crushing experience. But you would be dead wrong.

I feel better than I ever have. I’m lighter, stronger and more energized.

Why? Because I haven’t changed. I’ve evolved.

The changes I’ve made have rekindled old interests — such as the art of cooking — and inspired new ones, like an active lifestyle. Swapping out old habits for new ones allows me to continue my drive for self-improvement, while maintaining the balance of routine.

This evolution is ongoing. I’m sure as the weeks, months and years go by, I will keep proactively finding ways to make my life healthier, more productive and more efficient.

You can do this too. If you’re on the fence about making changes in your life, get at it!

Evolution is an everyday process. Grab the bull by the horns and let it ride!

The Constants In Change

Things ain’t what they used to be.

These days, it seems as if our world is changing at the speed of light. Fifteen years ago, the Internet was still a shiny new toy; today that toy is in our pockets, on our wrists and even accessible in Gabon. The way we travel and live is being reimagined by Uber, urbanization…and soon, self-driving cars. How we live, what we eat, where we shop, who we interact with (and when we make those interactions) — it’s all being revolutionized.

This is far from the first time that a cultural shift has transformed society. The renaissance, the dawn of capitalism, the inventions of the telephone, railroad and car — these have all led to seismic shifts of thought. But something feels different this time, arrogantly different. And frankly, it’s a bit frightening.

You see, the trail towards our Technocultural Revolution was paved by those who didn’t just break the rules of conventional thought, but instead blew those rules to bits. Tech giants Apple, Microsoft and Facebook were created by college dropouts — and opinionated college dropouts at that — who weren’t going to let the rules of the past interfere with their visions of the future.

As a result of this thinking, Apple, Facebook and Microsoft — along with companies such as Google and Amazon, which were actually founded by college graduates — took the world by fire, redefining norms not only for technology, but also corporate society. (Look no further than the proliferation of startups to see my point in technicolor.) This is all fine and good on a basic level, but the imprint these companies have left on our culture is a double-edged sword.

Too often today, there is a prevailing attitude that the past is wrong. As a new generation of adults settles into urban apartments — and eschews the car, cable TV and other amenities for smartphones with access to Netflix and Snapchat — they quickly wage war on the world they’re leaving behind. While suburbia might be inefficient, gas guzzlers might be bad for the environment, and red meat and gluten-rich might not be the healthiest dietary choices, this ain’t exactly the Jedi/Sith showdown our now-dominant culture is making things out to be. As a suburbanite with an SUV and a hankering for a home-cooked steak every now and then, I can attest that the old ways can work just fine. And countless people were able to meet, fall in love and get married long before the advent of Tinder.

This ultra-defiant attitude young adults display toward the norms of yesterday is obnoxious on its owns. But as it spreads to other sectors — such as commerce and politics — it becomes extremely dangerous. In the midst of the race to reinvent culture, the rising leaders of today would be wise to remember the past — even if only to avoid repeating it.

Take a look at what’s happening right now. Many young adults might not care that oil prices and Wall Street are in a tailspin — after all, their life choices have led them away from a dependence on both. But recessions affect everyone, irreparably damaging both lifestyles and futures. “Outsider” Presidential candidates (on both sides of the aisle) threatening to bulldoze and redefine our federal government might be seen as the saviors of a “broken” Washington, but let us not forget that this was exactly the scenario that led the the rise of Nazi Germany. (Think that’s too far off-base? We already have one extremely popular candidate threatening to remove Muslims and Hispanics from our nation.)

It’s naïve, selfish and shortsighted to think that throwing out the past in favor of the future will lead to the world singing Kumbaya around a campfire. The world simply doesn’t work that way. Instead, it’s important to have some constants in the process of change, as all that which came before us could help us better define what comes after us.

As we move forward, our collective boat should navigate the crests of change with the swells of constants. This way, we all may adapt and thrive, instead of capsize and drown.