I carry a little card around in my wallet on which I’ve scrawled a few facets of my character that I’d like to be known for. I’d like to be a great partner, for example, and a great explorer, friend, maker, athlete (of the Nike variety—if you have a body…).
From time to time I’ll pull it out of my wallet and wonder for a moment: which of these is playing more or less of a role right now, and is that what I’d hope for? I sometimes surprise myself with the answer, and it gives me a little nudge towards action.
On the other side of the card, I’ve written a few single-word directives—words like confidence, compassion, curiosity, and agency. They exist so that I can ask the question: what would it look like for the character to play with more compassion (curiosity; agency).
It’s such a small act and a simple question, but on many occasions it’s caused me to act in a totally different way than I’d originally been thinking about. It takes me out of myself for just a moment and lets me consider how I actually want to act.
About to present something you’ve made? What would it look like if you played it with 10x as much confidence? What would the athlete do with 10x more conviction? What would the partner do with 10x more compassion, or understanding, or care?
Increasingly, I find more joy in small, simple ideas repeated often than in big or complex ideas. I see it when I take the same walk and notice something I’d missed, or re-read a book and learn something new—not because the book changed, but because I have.
These simple questions for me often have pretty profound implications. I’m sometimes a few words and a simple thought away from doing something that moves me closer to the person I want to be, or—almost imperceptibly—a little further away.