Resolute

In attempt to improve my Irish language skills, which are currently not very good at all, I’ve started using Duolingo. It’s quite good fun, with the just the right level of challenge so far.

Then there’s the gamification. Plenty of encouragement and nudging with prizes and streaks. Simon reckons it pays off:

It turns out the streak mechanism was exactly what I needed. That tiny piece of effort, repeated every day over multiple years, really does add up.

He mentions it in relation to Tom’s recently-ended ten-year streak of posting a video every single week.

During The Situation, I posted a video of myself playing a tune every day for 200 days.

A few years before that I did a 100 days challenge, publishing a post with exactly 100 words every day.

In both cases, the level of difficulty was just about right. If it were too difficult, the endeavour would inevitably fail at some point. As Robin says:

But every ounce of progress I’ve ever made is because I’ve focused on much, much smaller goals. Goals so small that they don’t even look like goals. Just write this morning. Just finish that chapter. Just get one less coffee. Just go for a walk over that hill. Just don’t eat that. Just call. Just work. Just sleep. These tiny, every day details are where progress is made. The small routines.

He mentions that in relation to new year’s resolutions, which are often far too broad and sweeping in scope. That chimes with something Justin Searles wrote recently:

I’ve never accomplished anything I felt proud of by setting a goal. In fact, the surest way to ensure I don’t do something is to set a goal. When asked to set goals for myself, I’ve found that expressing the goal (as opposed to achieving it) becomes my overriding objective.

I’m also not a fan of new year’s resolutions, though I do quite like Tina’s:

Keep slowing down. (Notice how everything’s still happening? Nothing is breaking.)

Like Anna says:

Forget resolutions, let’s all do less.

And if you are going to set a goal or resolution for yourself, why would you do it in the deepest gloom of winter? I’ve written about this before:

Think about it. It’s January. The middle of winter. It’s cold outside. The days are short. The only seasonal foods available are root vegetables and brassicas. Considering this lack of sunlight and fruit, it seems inadvisable to try to also deny yourself the intake of sugar, alcohol, meat, carbohydrates or gluten. You’re playing with a stacked deck. And then when inevitably, in the depths of winter, you cave in and pour yourself a glass of wine or indulge in a piece of cake, you now have the added weight of guilt on your shoulders to carry through the neverending winter nights.

So I’m not making any new year’s resolutions. Maybe I’ll make a Summer soltice resolution. But I’m not promising anything.