A key theme in my forthcoming book What’s Stopping You? (TBP 2011) is the notion that many people that suffer from insecurities and fears then go on to become what I call “preaching motivational converts” after they have “seen the light” or have been “born again”.
And while I realise writing a book on the subject of fear of failure (as well as other insecurities halting our progress) opens me to the charge of hypocrisy, there is a difference – honest! The core thesis of What’s Stopping You? is that the near-consensus of opinion among psychologists is that our fears are innate and cannot therefore be swapped for a headlong rush in the other direction. If you have fear of failure now, you will always have it, which is the bad news.
The good news is that, once we realise this – and the fact what I call the “monkey on my back” is coming with us – we can make strong progress in our lives. Become aware of our insecurities and the behaviours they drive and progress is possible – dealing with that monkey’s negativity as we go. Deny he is there – perhaps via some quick-fix “cure” that is potentially a deeper form of self-denial – and a terrible reckoning may await, at least in my view.
A core secondary element of this concerns how we focus on others as we make progress. Once enlightened, it is easy to see insecurities and mental failings in the behaviours and speech of everyone we meet. And we may even be tempted to start offering unsolicited advice, even to strangers. I’ve been on the receiving end of such advice on several occasions and it is pretty irritating – hence my view that once we are “recovering” from insecurities such as high fear of failure (and I’m deliberately making the comparison with “recovering” alcoholics who have to face up to their addiction at every meeting no matter how long they have been sober) we should avoid such preaching because it is both annoying and unsustainable.
Why write this now? Because I have sinned in this respect – falling short of my own standards I am afraid. And it was on this blog: the Twitter-virus enforced shutdown of which has given me time to reflect and to consider what I want to reload. Hence my repentance below.
First up were my two posts on NLP. This may seem odd, given that one reading of the above can be seen as an attack on neuro-linguistic programming, or at least the quick-fix excesses on its fringes. But I now realise that I drifted into the very preaching I was arguing against. NLP has helped millions of people gain confidence, so who am I to criticise, simply because the joy and comfort it brings to so many can result in the occasional convert making uncalled-for observations about my, yes absolutely, insecure behaviour?
SORRY.
Those two posts generated some pretty heated reaction from people who have obviously benefited from NLP. And they are right – to start lecturing people for lecturing people is wrong, so I’ll lecture myself instead. Lecturing others is an annoying trait whoever delivers it, and no matter what it is about. The point of “recovery” is to focus on our own behaviour – no one else’s. And that means even holding our tongue when being told of our insecurities by someone that has clearly “seen the light” via NLP or any other form of self improvement. What’s Stopping You? is NOT condemning NLP – in fact it borrows a lot from it. And I shouldn’t have lapsed into the very trait I was criticising.
Second (of three) concerns a post on an unidentified woman at a party – with, again, me stating that our less-than-satisfactory exchange was based on both her insecurities and mine. Yet how could I possibly know? I was simply interpreting her behaviour. I was not inside her mind. Sure, I knew what I was thinking – my insecurities had been triggered. But how could I possibly know what was driving her speech and behaviour? Of course, I was simply offering an opinion, not stating facts. But it was an opinion based on prejudice – that I had some predetermined idea of what was driving her behaviour. I didn’t.
SORRY.
Indeed, my reaction to that episode is a majorly significant moment in my recovery as a High-FF (what I call those with a high fear of failure). Her responses to me triggered a negative response from me based on my insecurities. Previously, that negative response would have been anger, followed by depression, followed by remorse, or potentially withdrawal, followed by depression, followed by anger. The more “enlightened” me, however, responds by looking for the insecurities in her. Yet this supposedly better response is the more dishonest – I haven’t dealt with my insecurities, just reflected them back to her, no matter how wide of the mark that may be. And while we could say, who cares, at least my insecurities have been dealt with, such deep self-denial is a long way from recovery or any attempt at recovery, in my opinion.
The final charge concerns my thoughts on “snake oil salesmen” in the motivational industry. In fact I was merely chiming along with an article in The Economist on this subject, as well as my own rationalism and scepticism regarding such practices as hypnotism and acupuncture. In reality, the key for the recovering High-FF is self-awareness regarding the appalling and self-destructive way we have judged the world around us up until now. For each of us there is a “wake up” moment that is tremendously enlightening. It is the moment we realise that our confusion and fears regarding the world is not some unique personal hell, but a mental condition that most probably started in early-childhood based on traumas (big and small) and our reactions to them. Perhaps without us realising it, these fears have grown into major phobias in adulthood that have stopped our progress, or at least hampered it.
My own “wake up” moment came from a casual reading of Anthony Robbins – a cheesy American motivational guru that is heavily influenced by NLP and also uses hypnotism and other methods that I now feel inappropriate for my own recovery. Yet Robbins started me on a journey that has – from good experiences and bad as well as from deep research with psychologists and self-help gurus – led me to a better place. But that journey was unique to me.
As I state in the introduction to the book, High-FFs need a map in order to chart their progress, but that only they can draw that map – it is a personal journey with its own rivers to cross and jungles to penetrate. What’s on that map, and where that map takes them, is 100 percent up to them. Robbins was an early landmark on mine and he remains an important source for the book, being quoted throughout. If others have hypnotism or some other methodology that wasn’t right for me but has worked for them, good. While I maintain my view on quick-fix solutions, seeking a solution – any solution – is probably the most important step anyone can take.
As Stephen Covey (another American motivational guru, although less cheesy than Robbins) states, “without pro-activity we are lost”. With it we’ll eventually find our way. The journey’s the point – not the mode of transport, the route or the stopping points on the way. So stop preaching.
SORRY.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Luck: The Winner's Curse
A repost from the old blog of posts I like.
My wife calls it the “Kelsey Effect” – the idea that as soon as I alight upon something they or it become subject to a series of unexpected mishaps. Cars break down, houses crumble, companies collapse, even whole industry sectors go into crisis. Horses, football teams, charities, even previous girlfriends have all suffered misfortune once they have won my attention. And my wife also likes to joke about the “Kelsey Cloud" that follow us on holiday, pointing out that we even had rain on our trip to the Sahara Desert.
Certainly, from a young age I have considered myself unlucky. Always in the wrong place, at the wrong time – too far from the action or ill-prepared for the events unfolding disastrously in front of me. But I don’t anymore. Not because my luck has changed, although I’m most definitely in a more fortunate place than I’ve ever been. The reason I no longer feel unlucky is because I no longer believe in the concept of luck.
In Make Your Own Luck
(2005), Eileen C. Shapiro and Howard H. Stevenson focus on the idea that no one ever has enough time or facts to know they are making the right judgement calls. Indeed, nearly all decisions – including life-changing ones such as what career to pursue and who, or whether, to marry – are based on incomplete information. So when someone is noted for being lucky – i.e. that the outcomes of these decisions are usually positive – people are actually admiring what Shapiro and Stevenson call that person’s sense of “predictive intelligence”.
“The higher your predictive intelligence, the more you will be able to make your own luck,” they state.
This leads to some obvious questions, such as what is predictive intelligence and how can I get hold of some? They claim there are 12 steps to gaining predictive intelligence – what they call the “gambler’s dozen”. Indeed, their main focus is on betting (although they broaden the concept), which may well make their steps for acquiring predictive intelligence not the only 12-steps programme required by those applying their recommendations too eagerly.
And this brings me to my main point. That I now view luck as the winner’s curse. This may seem counter-intuitive, but it is in fact no more than rational thinking. For a start, in the vast majority of cases the word “luck” can be replaced with “focus” (a notion supported by Shapiro and Stevenson).
Certainly, I noticed that my luck seemed to change once I became fully focused on a particular goal, at least with respect to that goal. Opportunities would appear at the right moment and obstacles disappear – I’d come across the right person or piece of information just as I needed them or it. Yet this wasn’t luck at all. It was intense concentration. In fact it was my Reticular Activating System (RAS) – the area of the brain responsible for regulating arousal.
We all have this, although may not recognise it as such. I used to call it my “antennae” – the element of my consciousness that seems to notice the things that currently interest me. Usually this is frivolous. If I was thinking of buying a particular car, for instance, my RAS would start noticing that model whether it was parked in a side street or flashing by on the opposite motorway carriage. Or if I was wearing a particular brand of scarf, I’d notice people wearing that scarf when I’d previously ignored them. Yet even with respect to business opportunities or – more recently – ideas for blogs or additional thoughts for the book, options would present themselves and events conspire in my favour, when previously they had gone ignored or conspired against me: all thanks to my RAS.
Of course, the RAS alone cannot help us. We need to programme it correctly – most obviously by adding strong long-term objectives with calculated short and medium-term milestones. Indeed, most “unlucky” people can also blame their RAS – as can many that blame their poor fortune on innate ineptitude or even prejudice against them. Programme your RAS accordingly and it will deliver what you seek – including confirmation of inabilities or bias, and certainly including misfortunes to confirm jinx-style qualities of the “Kelsey Effect” type. Programme it positively, however, and your RAS will help turn the fortunes of even the unluckiest of people.
And that, of course, brings us to that famous quote, attributed to Gary Player, Arnold Palmer, Samuel Goldwyn and God knows who else: “Of course I believe in luck. And the harder I practice the luckier I get”, although perhaps our own version should conclude: “And the more I focus on my long term objectives, the harder my RAS works in my favour”.
Finally, it is worth noting that there are also positives to being unlucky. For me, my poor luck has meant an adulthood hating gambling, in all its forms (including that “tax on the stupid” known as the National Lottery), which I now view as an enormous blessing. Certainly, I consider those “lucky” gamblers cursed – their arrogance making them over-estimate purely mathematical probabilities. More-often-than-not gambling results in the most rapid levelling of the “lucky” and the “unlucky” known to man, a fate that I’ve joyfully avoided thanks to my “poor luck”.
Poor luck has also led me towards a hatred of “winging it” in meetings and presentations. I am consistently the best briefed and prepped, precisely because I assumed I had to make amends for my poor luck – a weakness that, over the years, has increasingly worked in my favour. In fact this adds a last consideration on luck – that of age. As a young person the cocky assurance of “the lucky” is certainly a plus when it comes to winning the girl/boy or convincing employers to give them that first break. But life is a marathon, not a sprint, and luck will inevitably go against those relying on that most ephemeral of attributes. Meanwhile, I have assumed poor luck from the start, which has prepared me well for the inevitable puddles along the way, many of which I now deftly sidestep – including those on our summer holiday.
Certainly, from a young age I have considered myself unlucky. Always in the wrong place, at the wrong time – too far from the action or ill-prepared for the events unfolding disastrously in front of me. But I don’t anymore. Not because my luck has changed, although I’m most definitely in a more fortunate place than I’ve ever been. The reason I no longer feel unlucky is because I no longer believe in the concept of luck.
In Make Your Own Luck
(2005), Eileen C. Shapiro and Howard H. Stevenson focus on the idea that no one ever has enough time or facts to know they are making the right judgement calls. Indeed, nearly all decisions – including life-changing ones such as what career to pursue and who, or whether, to marry – are based on incomplete information. So when someone is noted for being lucky – i.e. that the outcomes of these decisions are usually positive – people are actually admiring what Shapiro and Stevenson call that person’s sense of “predictive intelligence”. “The higher your predictive intelligence, the more you will be able to make your own luck,” they state.
This leads to some obvious questions, such as what is predictive intelligence and how can I get hold of some? They claim there are 12 steps to gaining predictive intelligence – what they call the “gambler’s dozen”. Indeed, their main focus is on betting (although they broaden the concept), which may well make their steps for acquiring predictive intelligence not the only 12-steps programme required by those applying their recommendations too eagerly.
And this brings me to my main point. That I now view luck as the winner’s curse. This may seem counter-intuitive, but it is in fact no more than rational thinking. For a start, in the vast majority of cases the word “luck” can be replaced with “focus” (a notion supported by Shapiro and Stevenson).
Certainly, I noticed that my luck seemed to change once I became fully focused on a particular goal, at least with respect to that goal. Opportunities would appear at the right moment and obstacles disappear – I’d come across the right person or piece of information just as I needed them or it. Yet this wasn’t luck at all. It was intense concentration. In fact it was my Reticular Activating System (RAS) – the area of the brain responsible for regulating arousal.
We all have this, although may not recognise it as such. I used to call it my “antennae” – the element of my consciousness that seems to notice the things that currently interest me. Usually this is frivolous. If I was thinking of buying a particular car, for instance, my RAS would start noticing that model whether it was parked in a side street or flashing by on the opposite motorway carriage. Or if I was wearing a particular brand of scarf, I’d notice people wearing that scarf when I’d previously ignored them. Yet even with respect to business opportunities or – more recently – ideas for blogs or additional thoughts for the book, options would present themselves and events conspire in my favour, when previously they had gone ignored or conspired against me: all thanks to my RAS.
Of course, the RAS alone cannot help us. We need to programme it correctly – most obviously by adding strong long-term objectives with calculated short and medium-term milestones. Indeed, most “unlucky” people can also blame their RAS – as can many that blame their poor fortune on innate ineptitude or even prejudice against them. Programme your RAS accordingly and it will deliver what you seek – including confirmation of inabilities or bias, and certainly including misfortunes to confirm jinx-style qualities of the “Kelsey Effect” type. Programme it positively, however, and your RAS will help turn the fortunes of even the unluckiest of people.
And that, of course, brings us to that famous quote, attributed to Gary Player, Arnold Palmer, Samuel Goldwyn and God knows who else: “Of course I believe in luck. And the harder I practice the luckier I get”, although perhaps our own version should conclude: “And the more I focus on my long term objectives, the harder my RAS works in my favour”.
Finally, it is worth noting that there are also positives to being unlucky. For me, my poor luck has meant an adulthood hating gambling, in all its forms (including that “tax on the stupid” known as the National Lottery), which I now view as an enormous blessing. Certainly, I consider those “lucky” gamblers cursed – their arrogance making them over-estimate purely mathematical probabilities. More-often-than-not gambling results in the most rapid levelling of the “lucky” and the “unlucky” known to man, a fate that I’ve joyfully avoided thanks to my “poor luck”.
Poor luck has also led me towards a hatred of “winging it” in meetings and presentations. I am consistently the best briefed and prepped, precisely because I assumed I had to make amends for my poor luck – a weakness that, over the years, has increasingly worked in my favour. In fact this adds a last consideration on luck – that of age. As a young person the cocky assurance of “the lucky” is certainly a plus when it comes to winning the girl/boy or convincing employers to give them that first break. But life is a marathon, not a sprint, and luck will inevitably go against those relying on that most ephemeral of attributes. Meanwhile, I have assumed poor luck from the start, which has prepared me well for the inevitable puddles along the way, many of which I now deftly sidestep – including those on our summer holiday.
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