Aim for the Moon

 The German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche has some good advice for us: "Aim for the moon. Even if you miss it, you'll end up among the stars."

Aiming for the moon requires a certain combination of qualities: an innate optimism, a large dollop of self-belief, and the courage to try and fail, then try again. If any of those elements is missing, it will be more difficult for us to aim high. 

If we do not have at least a little innate optimism, we'll tend to concentrate on what might go wrong instead of on what might go right. And will shrink from taking risks, just in case... When we ask the "what if?" question, our brain will supply us with negative possibilities, rather than encouragement. 

If we don't believe in ourselves and our abilities, we will find it harder to aim high, because imposter syndrome will raise its ugly head, "Who do you think you are to aim high? Other people are much better at [whatever it is] than you. You don't deserve to be here, doing this." 

If we are frightened of failure, we might rather not do anything, than try and risk not succeeding. Failure doesn't feel good and it takes a special kind of courage to pick ourselves up, dust ourselves down and stubbornly try again. I've blogged about this here.

I believe it is fatal to listen to the pessimistic, self-doubting, mouse-scared voices in our heads - they will hold us back from growing into our best selves, from aiming for the moon. And I can testify to the joys of being an innate optimist, with some self-belief and courage. I have always "gone for it" and the rewards have been enormous. My life has been much happier for it.

Running out of mojo

This week's quotation is by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe: "Aller Anfang ist leicht, und die letzten Stufen werden am schwersten und seltesten erstiegen."

Which being translated, means, "The beginning is easy and the final stages are the most difficult and rarest to climb (reach)."

Jury's out on this one, for me. Yes, I agree that we often start new projects with great enthusiasm, and then, once we get down into the nitty gritty and hard grind, our enthusiasm can peter out and we have to call on all our reserves to finish the job properly. It takes great determination and dedication to do this, as I have blogged before here.

BUT, sometimes beginning something is the hardest step - not easy at all. Especially if we believe that the task ahead of us is going to be difficult, or complicated. It is only too easy to put off beginning, to do other things to distract ourselves from what we ought to be getting on with.

I'm usually quite good at getting things done, but creative writing is the one exception to this rule. Faced with a blank page, is is only too tempting to fool around on Facebook, or on Wikipedia, or make another coffee, go for a walk, even do some housework!... almost anything except get some words down onto that terrifying blankness.

And then, if we do manage to make a start on the task, it is easy (but fatal) to listen to the voices of self-doubt in our heads. "This is no good." "You can't do this." "X is so much better / cleverer / more artistic than I am - what's the point of even trying?"

We have to get over this self-doubt by telling ourselves: "I'm doing this. It may not be the best [whatever] in the world, but it's my task, and I'm going to finish it, because it has to be done."

Where do you fall? Do you find beginnings easy and completions hard, like Goethe? Or are beginnings the hardest thing of all?

Keeping On Keeping On

Yesterday evening, I was travelling home from London, after a long day. When we pulled in to Northampton station, I realised with dismay that I would have to climb the long steep flight of stairs to get over the footbridge onto Platform 1, and hence to the exit. And my feet were hurting, because I'd been for an interview, and had had to wear posh shoes ... so I was feeling a bit sorry for myself.

I was about one-third of the way up when I spotted a small boy (who couldn't have been more than three years old) toiling up the stairs ahead of me. He was wearing a little rucksack on his back with the Superman logo on it, and was climbing the stairs steadily, in spite of the fact that each one was probably at least knee-high to him, so a lot of hard work. But I had the sense that he was up to the task, and would carry on until he reached the top, without stopping, without complaining.

And I thought "Superman indeed!. If he can do it, so can I." His example of steadfast determination made my day. And I am grateful.