Going Deep, Not Wide
Yesterday a friend asked me if I had read the Blog Post, Raptitude.com, called Go Deeper, Not Wider (raptitude.com). David, its creator, invited us to not buy anything new for a whole year, and instead use what we already have. Instead of that new book we just have to have, you know the one that’s been on the Best Sellers list for months, we could read the fifty or so books already on our bookshelf. Remember those books? They were the shiny new objects we just had to purchase last year, or was it the year before? Over ONE MILLION people read David’s Blog post last year. What is the nerve ending he touched in us? When I read his post yesterday, I found myself doing a lot of head nodding, and mumbling out loud to the room, “yeah, that’s right, that describes me perfectly.”
I am so guilty of being caught up in the shiny new thing. A new idea pops into my head literally every day and there I go chasing it down a new bunny hole. I like these ideas because they offer a little pop of satisfaction in my brain. They are like brain candy. I get an immediate dopamine hit, but the crash later, is usually pretty rough. I have so many things I have started, and never finished. I take something up, with a passion and a pretty hefty investment, only to walk away from it after reaching a certain point in my learning. I just stop, and don’t return. And the new thing is stuck in the closet, on my bookshelf, or in my computer files, waiting on my return.
When I read David’s Blog, I realized something. I am not the only one who buys the webinar training on How to Write Bestselling Fiction, only to make it through most of it, but then not actually write the book. Or decides to learn to speak French and not make it past introductions. Or learn to play the violin. Once the A string broke, I was really at a loss for how to proceed. Really? There are literally hundreds of places where I could have a) bought a new string; and b) figured out how to attach it and tune it. But something became absolutely stoppable in that moment.
I believe one thing that happens to us is we reach a point in our learning and development where it suddenly becomes NOT ALL THAT MUCH FUN anymore. When the shiny wears off, and what is left is the practice, over and over, and breaking through stuck places, we suddenly get a glimpse of something on our peripheral vision and off we trot, or gallop. We jump on that train to the new thing. We tell ourselves lots of stories too about why this “new” thing will really be the one and how this time we will get good at “x.” But then the hard part settles in, and we start the cycle all over again. We suddenly find something new and exciting, some new book, or a new look, a new workout that promises thin thighs in 30 days, or emotional intelligence in four hours. And off we go, discarding yesterday’s dreams.
WHAT IF INSTEAD…ok, here’s the radical idea. You are going to hate this for sure. But what if instead of starting something new, we instead devote ourselves to what we already have around us. Read that series of books on how to make awesome charts that get people’s attention. Or figure out how to write more compelling stories. We can finally, finally, read the classics we have been putting off for years, maybe decades. Or we can make that puzzle our great-aunt Linda sent us. Or practice yoga from that website we bought that has about every kind of yoga imaginable all right there just one click away.
It really doesn’t matter how big or small the thing is. I think the most important thing we can do for ourselves, for a period of time, is devote ourselves to the things we have cast aside, to take them back up, dust them off, and use them. To treat the old as if it is the most important thing to learn in this moment. To commit to not buying anything new. Wow. That’s a big ask. Here is my commitment. No new books. Read what I have. And do my yoga workouts.
Want to join me in a year of Living Deep, not Wide?
