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Brain-Based Transformational Solutions

Hard Choices: What Are You For?

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hard choice

People who don’t exercise their normative powers in hard choices are drifters. We all know people like that. I drifted into being a lawyer. I didn’t put my agency behind lawyering. I wasn’t for lawyering. Drifters allow the world to write the story of their lives. They let mechanisms of reward and punishment—pats on the head, fear, the easiness of an option—determine what they do. So the lesson of hard choices: reflect on what you can put your agency behind, on what you can be for, and through hard choices, become that person.

Far from being sources of agony and dread, hard choices are precious opportunities for us to celebrate what is special about the human condition, that the reasons that govern our choices as correct or incorrect sometimes run out, and it is here, in the space of hard choices, that we have the power to create reasons for ourselves to become the distinctive people that we are. And that’s why hard choices are not a curse but a godsend. —Ruth Chang, philosopher

Click here for the full transcript of Chang’s TED talk or to watch the video.

I’m for learning everything I can to help me use my brain more effectively. And I’m for making a difference by helping others to discover what matters most in their lives and to write their own stories.

Are you writing the story of your life? If not, who is?

Got Free Will? Yes and No.

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free willDo we have free will? To some, the answer is yes, obviously we have free will. Many others say not so fast. It’s a thorny question that has only grown thornier over the past 30 years. That’s because we’re no longer focused so much on whether an external agent or force determines what we do. Now it’s an internal agent or force we’re concerned about—namely the unconscious part of our brain.

It’s probably apparent to most of us that we spend at least part of our time on autopilot—that is, behaving automatically, not consciously registering much of what’s going on around us, or not experiencing a sense of volition or agency. Stimulus A (whether internal or external) triggers reaction B. But the growing consensus of neuroscientists and others is that we spend not only part of our time, but most of our time, on autopilot. Some have tried to make the case that all of our behavior is automatic.

On the one hand, it’s hard to let go of the notion that we have complete control over our every thought, word, feeling, and deed. On the other, that’s a lot of responsibility and a tough row to hoe. The fact that, no matter what we think—or want to think—we don’t always feel in control sets up a conflict we’ve come up with some ingenious methods to resolve.

System 1, our unconscious, keeps us alive, filters what gets into conscious awareness, and initiates most of our thoughts, feelings, and behaviors. System 2, consciousness, very often just goes along with System 1’s recommendations. But not always. System 2 is capable of initiating thoughts and actions on its own, apart from what System 1 suggests. It can also veto System 1’s suggestions.

So one answer to the question about whether or not we have free will is “yes and no.” When it comes to habits, routines, or anything else System 1 is responsible for—when we’re operating on autopilot—we aren’t really acting freely. But when System 2 gives critical attention to System 1’s suggestions and either vetoes or sanctions them—or when System 2 initiates thoughts or actions of its own—we can say that we are acting freely.

There may be no outside agent forcing us to behave a certain way. But since we normally don’t consider the unconscious to be part of “I”—who we think of when we think about who we are—the unconscious feels quite a bit like an “other.” System 1 may be my brain, but it sure doesn’t feel like me.

“Yes and no” seems to be the best answer to the question of whether or not we have free will. It’s important to recognize the situations in which we operate on autopilot because if we think we’re making choices and acting freely when we’re not, we’ll be less likely to look for effective methods to change behavior we want to change, and we won’t be able to see things from any perspective other than our habitual one.

At the same time, if we don’t recognize the situations where we have the capacity to make decisions and act freely, not only will we be in trouble, society and the entire human race will be in trouble, too. Or is this just the norm—part of the human condition?

What do you think?

How Can You Live Passionately?

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passion

We don’t go looking for a solution until we have a problem to solve.

This is one of those things in life that seems pretty straightforward—and sometimes it is. But surprisingly often it isn’t. It’s more likely to be straightforward when the problem or issue at hand is small or simple and less likely to be straightforward when the problem is big or complex.

Complex problems can be difficult to see clearly. The unconscious part of our brain has a couple of habits that prevent us from seeing and defining complex issues of any kind. For one thing, it’s quick to jump to conclusions and to treat those conclusions as facts. For another, it craves certainty and being right, so it’s more comfortable with things that are easy to understand and that it already knows something about.

The result is that from time to time we go off on wild goose chases seeking a solution to the wrong problem because we asked the wrong question. No matter how good the solution, it won’t solve that particular problem.

Recently, I’ve been reflecting on the idea—or problem, if you will—of living with passion. If I believe passion means a passion, such as a calling—what and who I am meant to be—then the question I might ask is “What is my passion?” or “How can I find my passion?” That’s not an uncommon way to define the problem. Those are not uncommon questions to ask. And numerous roadmaps and processes are available to assist me—purportedly—in finding and following my passion.

But that’s not the only way to define the problem. In fact, it’s fairly narrow in scope and definition. If I believe living with passion requires finding my passion that makes me an arrow in search of a target, hoping I can hit the bull’s eye. What if I fail in my quest? Am I doomed to the booby prize: a passionless life?

If instead I ask, “How can I live a passionate life?” of “How can I live passionately?” that leads me down an entirely different path and to a much more interesting question: “What gets in the way of living passionately?” Now this is a worthy question to ask.

What gets in the way of living passionately?

I suspect the answer is the same for everyone. What gets in the way is us, specifically the things we tell ourselves, our considerations, our expectations, the preconditions we demand of life, or fear of feeling fear (occasionally known as excitement), and on and on. We’re afraid of stepping up, taking a risk, facing uncertainty, getting hurt or burned, failing, caring too much, or exceeding our reach. The unconscious part of our brain is wired for survival. Passion is definitely not part of its plan.

What gets in the way of living passionately is not our circumstances. It’s our own non-stop mental blah, blah, blah that keeps passion at arm’s length. If we want to live passionately, we can start doing it any time. There’s nothing to search for or to find, either within or without. There’s nothing stopping us from living passionately this very moment but ourselves.

What’s getting in the way of living passionately for you?

Increase Your Productivity by Eliminating Choice

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Writing

The best way to ensure you will accomplish something is by taking choice out of the equation. As long as you think you have a choice about whether or not to do something, chances are good you won’t do it.

In an article at 99U titled How I Kept a 373-Day Productivity Streak Unbroken, Jamie Todd Rubin talks about his consecutive-day writing streak. He has an even longer streak, though. At the time he wrote the piece, he had written 516 out of the previous 518 days.

Rubin doesn’t talk about choice in his article, nor does he talk about habits. What he says is:

While I didn’t set out to form a routine, I eventually established one which has led to my most prolific year as a writer yet.

How did he do it? He used the principles of I.A.P.: Intention, Attention, and Perseverance.

He decided to challenge his assumptions about the circumstances he needed to have in order to write. He has a day job and a family that includes young children, so large blocks of uninterrupted time were not on the menu. But as a result of questioning his assumptions, he discovered he could get a significant amount of writing done (500 words) in a 20-minute block of time.

So he set an intention to write for at least 20 minutes every day. He knew that would be easier said than done, especially on days when his regular routine was disrupted.

I learned ways to hack my writing streak to cope with the disruptions and still write every day.

He keeps his attention on his intention by deciding ahead of time when to fit his writing in when his day isn’t going to follow a normal routine. On such days, he usually gets his writing done earlier in the day. He also cuts himself some slack while still keeping his routine in place.

In my normal routine, I can usually count on 40 minutes of writing time. On these off-days, I may only be able to count on 10 or 20 minutes.

Rubin has a plan in place for responding to the unexpected, which is the perseverance part of the process. We have to expect the unexpected to occur and figure out ahead of time how we’ll deal with it.

Sometimes, things happen that you can’t plan ahead for. Life gets in the way. I’ll go into a day thinking that it will be routine, and something comes up. Maybe I have to work late at the day job or maybe one of the kids is sick. Whatever it is, in these instances, I haven’t planned ahead and so I can’t necessarily get my writing done early in the day.

Rubin knows that he can usually count on squeezing 10 minutes of writing in, no matter what’s going on. So he makes that his goal instead of 20 or 40 minutes. As he says, the 250 words he can generate in 10 minutes is 250 words he wouldn’t have otherwise. He also keeps several writing projects going, so he can always find something he’s in the mood to work on.

Even so, he sometimes has a day where he doesn’t have an opportunity to do any writing whatsoever.

What happens when the streak inevitably comes to an end? Well, I just start anew. It’s happened once already. I previously had a 140-day streak, and then missed two days in the space of a week. But I got right back on the horse, and haven’t missed a day for 373 days.

Getting back on the horse is what perseverance is all about. It’s how we beat the “ah, screw it” that tempts us when things don’t go according to plan. It isn’t the two missed days that are important. It’s the other 518 days that really matter.

These three steps (intention, attention, perseverance) can be applied to any activity, not just to writing. If you decide ahead of time that you aren’t going to waste time each day choosing whether or not to do it, you’re far more likely to get it done.

Rubin concludes:

There is no question that my sales of both fiction and nonfiction pieces have increased since I started writing every day. Indeed, since the streak began, I’ve sold 18 pieces of fiction or nonfiction, triple that of any previous year.

Although he didn’t initially set out to create a daily writing habit, by setting an intention, finding a way to keep his attention focused on it, and persevering by planning for the unexpected and the failures, that’s exactly what Rubin has done. By taking choice out of the equation, he tripled his writing productivity.

What’s Wrong with Precommitment Devices?

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Odysseus tied on the mast. Icon for the Greek ...

A precommitment device is a strategy for forcing yourself to do something you think you should do but you don’t actually want to do. You might resort to a precommitment device if your will power and self-control have failed to do the trick. The most famous example of someone using a precommitment device is Odysseus having himself tied to the mast of his ship to avoid the temptation of the sirens.

The most common precommitment devices involve agreeing to forfeit a certain sum of money if you fail to achieve a goal or accomplish a particular task. You could make an agreement with yourself to donate money to a charity if you fail to attend the gym three times a week, lose a specific amount of weight, or complete the next chapter of your book. Of course, if you’re the only one who knows about this agreement, you can easily waffle and wiggle your way out of it.

A more binding agreement would be to agree to pay a friend that same amount of money if you fail to meet your goal. Not only would you lose money, you would also experience some degree of shame. That’s the premise behind precommitment devices: we will do what’s good for us in order to avoid the threat of negative consequences. That’s also what makes them problematic.

Underlying the popularity of precommitment devices is the assumption that we are, in general, rational beings who want to avoid negative consequences. But there’s not a lot of evidence support that idea, and if it were true, we wouldn’t need precommitment devices to begin with. Rational beings who were aware of potential negative consequences would all be healthy, law-abiding, diligent, honest, tidy, sober, rule-following good citizens. Obviously, we are not all that. Precommitment devices have something in common with affirmations, which is that the people they work for probably need them the least.

Loss aversion is one rationale offered for using precommitment devices. It’s true we are programmed to avoid losses, but a loss of enjoyment can be experienced as a loss, too. In some cases a more significant loss than the loss of a few bucks.

Another problem with precommitment devices is that they are black and white. Either you do it or you don’t. You win or you lose. You avoid temptation or you give in to it. This isn’t a scenario that allows for being present, noticing what’s actually happening, learning something about yourself or what you’re attempting to do, or adjusting your course. This is more about getting the upper hand over your recalcitrant, weak-willed self. And when the next such situation arises, you will have to do battle with that bad boy self all over again.

There’s Another Way to Make a Precommitment

Creating an intention is a form of precommitment, too, but one without the threat of negative consequences. Creating an intention also takes into consideration the fact that what you’re attempting is not easy, but without judging your supposed lack of self-control. Changing any behavior is difficult simply because we’re wired to keep doing whatever we have been doing. Creating an intention—as part of the I.A.P. process—allows you to focus on something you want to do or be as opposed to something you don’t want to do or be. It helps you keep your attention on your desired outcome and motivates you to keep going, one step at a time, even when the going is difficult. Instead of having to be good or pay the price for being bad, you aim to keep getting better. You don’t have to initiate or engage in an inner struggle with yourself. And instead of forking over cash when you fail, you get to reward yourself when you succeed.

Have you ever used a precommitment device? If so, how did it work for you?

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