In high school, I was on the cross country team, running at least four times a week. For me, a four-mile workout was nothing, and running nine miles put me in a state of euphoria. After my last season, I stopped running every week. And then I stopped completely. Now, I can barely run a mile under 8 minutes. When I want to go running, it’s no longer something I do with excitement. Almost immediately, my muscles start burning and cramping. It’s become yet another activity that I don’t want to do but know I should. A chore. I’ve lost the momentum to literally run forward.
Inertia is the physical property to slow other forces of movement. It’s usually discussed in a scientific context, but I believe we can unintentionally harbor a sort of imaginary inertia inside us. This inertia does not care about our developing habits or aspirations–it doesn’t care about anything. It slows us down when we let go of our progress. Inertia makes distractions much more appealing because we are looking for anything easier and more pleasurable. But inertia’s effect takes time; it won’t sprout after a missed day of exercise. But once it begins, it can quickly turn a once easy habit into laborious torture. That missed day can become a week ago, and that missed week may become two months ago. Then one day, you find yourself writing about how easy it was for you to run five years ago. How do we fight against inertia?
Inertia takes root in feelings of inadequacy and our resistance to the challenges of improvement. When we start a habit or undertake an assignment, we likely have expectations for ourselves, and we may overestimate our abilities, a cognitive bias known as “Illusory superiority.” When we fail our unrealistic standards, we might experience feelings of shame, frustration, or total resignation. Addressing these feelings is a crucial step before we can hope to move forward.
Forgiving failure was an idea I stole from focused breathing practices. The goal of concentrated breathing is to focus completely on the inhale and exhale of your breath. You will probably get distracted by thoughts. You’re a person full of wants and worries, and breathing can seem insignificant amid other priorities in your life. When you do get distracted, you shouldn’t get I’m frustrated but rather acknowledge your distractions and return to your breath.
The same [philosophy should be applied when we develop our skills and focus. If we get distracted or break a good habit, we should acknowledge that lapse and make sure we forgive ourselves. Fostering compassion towards our failures is the only way many of us can address the anxiety we have towards failure. A typical cycle of focus may entail the following.
- Start of a Task
- Distraction/Distress Occurs
- Acknowledgment of Distraction/Distress
- Forgiveness AND a Return to the Task
However, it’s equally important to take your forgiveness seriously. For example, if someone hurts you and you forgive them, they may proceed to hurt you again. Similarly, if you break your focus, forgive yourself, and do not care about that apology, there’s nothing preventing you from taking longer breaks, focusing at shorter intervals, and letting inertia build. You can try to give yourself a stern talking to, but that’s tricky when the victim is also the offender. It may be important to give yourself a break to blow off steam or have a good cry. These are acts of self-compassion, but the only way you can truly take your forgiveness seriously is by returning to the task.
Imagine that a habit is a flower, a pet, a child, or whatever metaphor you want to cultivate. Unlike your dreams, your habit is a real, living thing, and it demands food in the form of real-world actions, probably stress, and dedication in order to grow. But what if one day you forget to water your plant or feed your child? Does that mean you should never feed them again because you deprived them of that day’s meal?
For the past five years, I’ve searched for methods that can help develop my focus, discipline, and forgiveness. I’ve made charts, I’ve tried several productivity apps, and I’ve created lists witnessed by friends who tried to hold me accountable, all in an attempt to upgrade my work style. In retrospect, I see that I’ve been trying too hard to cure my inertia and feed my momentum. Discipline can’t be downloaded, forgiveness can’t be avoided, and I can’t expect success without embracing my failures. Just like inertia, our momentum cannot be reasoned with. It only wants action.
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