So, after my success with last night's post, I decided that today I would take the time to try and set down the essential principles of my work on a single page.  To do that, I had to leave out any attempt at justifying the principles, providing supporting evidence or examples, or anything like that.

It turned out to be a lot easier than I thought it would be, though.  I had expected to cover the page with a lot of brief references to complex ideas, but I ended up instead with just eight fairly basic principles:

1. Success does not require you to become someone else -- just you, with less baggage.

2. Indecision is the source and essence of all "effort" and "suffering" -- and indecision's sole source is the fear of loss.

3. Fear of loss is an emotional attachment to something you believe you have, and it should not be confused with the merely rational desire to trade as little as possible to get what you want!

4. The worst fears of loss are ego-based: fear of disrupting the image we project to others.  These fears are the worst because, unlike a legitimate crisis, they can never end.

5. Fears -- no matter how trivial -- tend to engage the brain's "crisis management" mode, causing us to conserve energy, avoid risk, be less intelligent and creative, and to shrink from pain instead of reaching towards pleasure.

6. Opposing fear through willpower is useless, since this does not eliminate the fear itself, and therefore keeps the brain in crisis-management mode.  To live a happy life, therefore, does not require courage: it rather requires the absence of spurious fear.

7. Likewise, any change which is produced by forced attention to one's actions, is not really a change at all!  It is nothing more than a split between one's previous attachments, and one's current intentions.  (A new inner conflict, in other words!)  Therefore, if your actions do not serve you, change the cause of those actions, rather than the actions themselves.

8. Our essential nature is fearless, pleasure seeking, and creative.  But these qualities are blunted and suppressed by our learned programming.  Thus, we cannot attain these qualities by adding more mental programming!  Instead, we must edit or delete the existing programs whose output is fear.  Otherwise, we are simply increasing our sources of inner conflict... and therefore, our suffering.

Not particularly poetic or eloquent, but not a bad synopsis.  These ideas essentially explain why trying to copy successful people doesn't help people who are stuck, why popular conceptions of change and self-improvement are so unhelpful, and so on.

On the flip side, these ideas say nothing at all about how to edit or delete the existing programs, but that's to be expected.  That stuff is technology, rather than science or philosophy.  And by its nature, technology is a complex beast.  The brain includes many different routes through which to arrive at fear: conditioned responses, social codes, personal judgments, perceived social rank, subconscious prediction...  just to name the first ones that come to mind, that I currently have methods for finding, editing, and deleting.

(And that's not even counting the fact that the brain loves to hide its fears under layers of rationalization.  Sometimes I have to drag a client kicking and screaming through a series of, "and what's bad about that?" questions until they get to an ego-fear like, "Well then I'd be a failure.")

But anyway, this is a start.  If we're really going to change human nature, one human at a time, we sure could do a lot worse than to begin with these ideas.

In the last few weeks I've been working off and on, trying to jump-start a book project.  I've brainstormed titles, written outlines, and written literally almost a dozen "chapter ones".

And the more I work on the damn thing, the more I realize that I have absolutely no idea what to say, or who I'm saying it to.

Oh, sure, I know exactly what needs to be communicated.  I know what skills are needed to solve a huge host of problems that I've had, and that other people have.  I know what beliefs are necessary, and which ones get in the way.

What I'm not convinced of -- as yet -- is that I can actually say any of this stuff in a way that will get people to really  believe it, and take action.

At one level of detail, I could write it all very simply, just stating what I know and how it works.  But presented at that level, rather a lot of it would sound like any other self-help book: vague, over-optimistic, and lacking in tangible reasoning behind its recommendations.

And We Can't Have That, Can We?

At another level, I could write a scathing critique and expose' of the self-help industry and why most of what is recommended simply does not work for most people, most of the time.

But that likely wouldn't appeal to anyone besides skeptics...  who probably wouldn't like me pointing out the things that do work!

In a way, what I really want most is to write something that I could have read and benefited from, back when I was young and in pain and thought it was only me who was broken.

But it almost seems as if the body of knowledge I have now acquired is inextricably bound to the journey of learning through which I acquired it.  That the only way to learn it besides repeating that journey, is to accept it on faith.

And taking things on faith, I find myself thinking, is not something I would have done, back then, when I needed these understandings most.

But then a deeper reflection tells me...  

That's probably not true.

Because the real reason, I think, that I hesitate to write, is that I also want the book to reflect well on me.

So it should do well in the market.  Be easy to get PR for.  Easy to condense to media soundbites when I'm interviewed.

And of course it should be unique and distinctive, while also being nothing less than the purest distillation of my knowledge and skills.  No simplification of the facts just to make it more "accessible".  And it must be immediately obvious from the book's positioning why it is absolutely nothing like any other self-help book ever written, so that even the most cynical of people won't hesitate to snatch up a copy in a bookstore feeding frenzy.

(Hm.  Inner conflicts, much?)

This, of course, is the exact same pattern that we all fall into.  We want to eat our cake, but still have it.  Indecision is suffering, and that is all that suffering is.

Suffering is a clash between mental control systems, the hot and cold flashes we would feel in a room with two thermostats set to different temperatures!  It's impossible to satisfy both settings at the same time, and so we suffer.

But this suffering doesn't come about because we desire things.  It comes about because...

We Won't Give Any Of Them Up!

See, people think that "non-attachment" means you don't want anything, or that you don't pursue what you want.  But they're wrong.  Attachment is not about whether you get what you want, it's about not losing what you think you have.

In my case, I fear that writing a simplified form of my learnings will somehow corrupt or cheapen them.  That not sufficiently communicating their uniqueness, or using too much emotion and not enough logic will make me "just like everyone else".  That I will, in some sense, "lose my soul".

And yet, when it really comes right down to it, I have already very nearly stated the heart and soul of my philosophy here in this post.  Indecision is suffering, and the fear of losing is the one thing that stands between feeling like a loser, and being naturally successful.  (As opposed to the pump-yourself-up, willpower-based variety of success that's never worked for me.)

Now sometimes, the way we stop being afraid of losing is by "hitting bottom" and feeling we have nothing else to lose.  And sometimes, we realize that what we're afraid of losing is...

Something we never had in the first place!

But other times, the path is not so desperate or dramatic.  Sometimes, we just systematically work to eradicate our fears.  Not by willpower or affirmation, but by understanding the nature of the mind.

And above all else, by knowing what to look for.  If you don't know that fears of loss and failure are perhaps the only difference between succeeding and failing (due to the differences in brain mode), then you won't spend the time needed to find them...  or eliminate them.

And if you don't know why it makes a difference, you won't be motivated to try.  You will think it's just the same old same old, that you've heard before...  and didn't do anything about.

In other words, it'll just be another "neat idea" to you.

Now I suppose I feel that in my live workshops and one-on-one sessions I have at least some small chance of figuratively grabbing my listener by the throat and making them see.  And after this last weekend's workshop, I got notes from a few of the participants saying that the exercise I put them through sparked a breakthrough for them, and telling me about the cool results they've achieved since then.

But still...

I worry about the ones who didn't send me notes!

Because I want everyone to have a breakthrough.  I want to be the Oprah of breakthroughs: "You get a breakthrough!  And you get a breakthrough!  And you, and you, and you..."

Now on an intellectual level, I realize this is purest ego on my part.  I'm sure that nobody, not even Jesus and the Buddha got 100% breakthroughs from every talk they gave!

And most people think ego is about self-aggrandizement, but in my case at least, it usually masquerades as an excess of altruism.  Among writers and speakers creating their first product, it usually manifests as a desire to make sure the product is of sufficiently "high quality" -- which is usually code for "the packaging reflects well on me", rather than "actually helps people".

(The same thing also applies to most of us computer programmers, by the way.  We don't like to release a program that hasn't been polished enough to stand up to the scrutiny of our peers... even if people are already willing to pay good money for it.  But I digress.)

And in truth, I must admit I do not have a perfect philosophy or method.  It must be applied in order to work, and it must be applied to each new area of life I come into contact with.  And although I will certainly be able to use my methods to banish the fears I just exposed by writing this, it will not foreclose the possibility that as I tackle bigger goals...

I'll find new fears.

My consolation, however, is that each time I get stuck, I can simply turn back to the basics of my method: examine what I want, find the conflicts, identify the fears of losing...  and eliminate them.

And as for the people who don't get a breakthrough from just one reading or talk, I suppose they will just have to wait for the next one.  Because I know that when I take away the belief that I have "failed" by not being the perfect guru, I will feel...  and not just think...  the message of the starfish story.

You know, that story about an adult who sees a boy throwing starfish back in the water after a storm, trying to save them from drying out and dying on the shore?   The adult says, "there are thousands of starfish washed up here, but only one of you -- so what makes you think you can make a difference?"

And the boy smiles as he throws one back in the water.  "It sure makes a difference to that one."

And who knows, maybe the tears welling up in my eyes right now, threatening to pour down my cheeks at any moment, could be some indication that I'm already beginning...

To feel that way, too.

For the longest time, I would hesitate before taking action -- any action.

Or so it seemed.

I mean, I didn't hesitate to turn on the TV or check my email or any other habitual action like that.  I didn't even hesitate that much before semi-routine but not-quite habitual actions, like taking out the trash.

It was only goal-directed actions that I hesitated before.  Like when I was about to start a new programming project, or take the next step in one that I'd already started.  Like when I was thinking about exercising, or thinking about cleaning up a bit around the house.

I noticed this yesterday while doing some programming.  I would think about the next test to be written, and get to a point of thinking, "Yes, I should do that next."

And then, nothing.

I would just sit there, quietly.  Thinking, "Yep, I should definitely do that."

Silence.

"Okay, this is getting silly now."

Nothing.

Finally, I just sort of seize control of my body and force my fingers to start typing something, anything.  And I get the test written.

Now, I'm making it sound like a big deal, but it's actually something I'm pretty used to.  Until I get into the "flow", it's always like that, or at least, it always has been for me.  And fortunately, I'm good enough at what I do that I'm still more productive than most, even after taking this little hesitation habit into consideration.

But it still bugged me. 

Because, in other areas of my life, I don't have that extra edge of skill (and determination to push through) that makes up for it.  When I flinch at exercise, I usually don't exercise.  When I flinch at cleaning or organizing, I usually don't clean or organize.  And when I flinch at my planning or writing, it doesn't get done, and the work piles up until I make an all-out-effort to do it at the last minute.

So today, I resolved to find out what the hell was up with this hesitation thing.

And what I discovered, surprised the heck out of me.

Because the cause of the hesitation wasn't anything like what I'd expected.

I thought that perhaps I was hesitating because there had been some historical consequence to taking action.  That maybe I'd boldly done something as a kid and gotten smacked for it, either by a sibling or schoolmate or parent.

But that wasn't it at all.

As it turns out, the real cause of the hesitation -- and a bunch of other things as well -- was a rather innocent-sounding belief I'd had since childhood:

"Imagination isn't real."

Now, it's important to understand that the words of a belief are not the same thing as the belief itself.  If you look at "imagination isn't real", it sounds on the surface like a perfectly sane belief, that no-one in their right mind would want to tamper with.

However, like nearly all beliefs, platitudes and self-help sayings, the words themselves are merely a summary of a more complex process or map embedded in your brain.

In this case, the foundation experience for my "imagination isn't real" belief was actually an experience of trying to make something real by believing in it.  Specifically, at a certain age I thought that what I read in fiction could be made real by acting it out, as long as you believed in it.

And after trying to build the "weather machine" described in a story, and finding that it did not, in fact, change the weather, I decided that you couldn't make things real by believing in them.  And I have a vague recollection of a grownup saying something about things in books being imaginary and not real.

These and other experiences formed my "evidence file" for the belief.  The words "imagination isn't real" were merely a label that goes on the outside of this file, for reference and retrieval purposes, like a link to a web page.  So saying "imagination isn't real" would call up the experience as a prototype for my behavior.  And so did any attempt to...

Make something I imagined...  real.

Realizing this hit me like a ton of bricks.  I could suddenly see the common thread between this one kind of hesitation, and a whole host of other issues I've tended to have in my life.  If things in books aren't real, and imagining and believing won't make them so, then it stands to reason why I've rarely, if ever, sustained a change I've made based on something in a book.

And why, the more I wanted the change, the less likely it would be to become real.

Because the "evidence file" for my belief was full of disappointment at not being able to make real, things I desperately wanted to make real.

And as I skimmed forward and backward through the movie of my life, I saw the part of my teen years where I tried to build lots of things out of books, and tried various handicrafts, and mostly failed at them, before taking up computers.

Because, as it happens...

Computers weren't really "real", either!

I could "make" things inside of them, and I viewed it as being like just a direct extension of my imagination.  I mean, computers don't actually do anything -- they just show pictures or make sounds.  How can you call that "real"?

It's no wonder I dropped the handicrafts and wound up a programmer.  No wonder that so many things I've tried didn't work, and other things did.  If it came out of a book or I imagined it, my mental model implicitly included failure and disappointment as the ultimate result of any attempt to make it real. 

And even if I succeeded part-way, or for a time, I always found a way to bring things back around to disappointment, creating a life-long cycle of ups and downs.

Even though I've successfully helped other people get out of cycles like these, it always bothered me that I never seemed to be as successful at helping myself, as I was at helping others.  But talking to someone and helping them sort out their brain, wasn't quite the same thing as...

Making something I want, real.

The irony, of course, is that this "imagination barrier" I created for myself, is itself an imaginary creation, made real.

And in the moment I really see that, the belief disappears in a puff of logic.  After all, if it's imaginary, it can't be real!

And a moment later, I know what belief I want to replace it with.

The belief, that for the rest of the day so far, has propelled me -- without hesitation -- into everything I choose to do.

The belief that if I can imagine it...

I can make it real.