A Parable for Anyone Thinking About AI and Their Future

Let me tell you a story about a foosball player.

Not the person gripping the handles. Not the people leaning over the table. Not the ones watching from the side, reacting to every near miss and lucky bounce.

I mean the little player on the rod.

The one fixed in place. The one locked into one line. The one who can slide back and forth, but only so far. The one who can affect the game, but only if the ball comes close enough to matter.

They don’t choose the strategy. They don’t choose the timing. They don’t choose the pace.

Most of the time, they wait.

Then the ball comes their way, and suddenly everything matters. Angle. Timing. Readiness. Contact.

That sounds a little like work to me.

A lot of people spend their days in roles that aren’t all that different. They work inside boundaries they didn’t create. They carry responsibility inside systems they don’t control. They try to do their part well, even when they can’t see the whole field or understand everything that sent the work their way.

They may not know the whole game, or how the score is being kept. They may not even know what happened two lines back that sent the ball in their direction.

Still, when it reaches them, their moment is real.

There’s something important in that.

We don’t need to control the whole table to be responsible for our part of the play. We don’t have that kind of control in most of life. We’re asked something simpler and harder. Be ready. Pay attention. Do the best you can with what reaches you.

That alone is worth contemplating.

But what if we add artificial intelligence to the picture?

Imagine that same foosball player being given access to a system that sees patterns faster. A system that recognizes angles sooner. A system that can suggest where the ball is likely to go before the player fully sees it unfold.

At first, that sounds like help. And often it is.

The player reacts faster. The contact gets cleaner. The scoring chances improve.

AI helps people create faster, sort faster, summarize faster, and respond faster. It removes friction. It can make a capable person more effective inside the lane they’ve always occupied.

That is the promising side of it.

But there is also an uncomfortable part.

Once the system starts seeing faster and suggesting more accurately, someone above the table is eventually going to wonder why they still need the player. That question doesn’t always get asked out loud. But it’s there. You can feel it. Pretending otherwise doesn’t make it go away.

That unease is legitimate.

The question is what to do with it.

Here’s where I think the real work begins.

What separates a great foosball player from an automated one isn’t reaction time. Machines will win that contest.

The deeper difference is harder to name. Knowing when not to take the obvious shot. Recognizing that the ball coming from a certain direction is a trap, not an opportunity. Sensing that something is off and adjusting before the moment fully reveals why. Coordinating with the players on the other rods in ways that don’t require a word.

That’s judgment. That’s situational awareness. That’s the kind of thing that lives in the player, not the system.

AI can help with speed. It can help with prediction. It can surface options. But it doesn’t carry responsibility the way a person does. It doesn’t feel the weight of consequences. It doesn’t care about the human being on the other end of the decision. It doesn’t wrestle with what should be done. Only what can be done.

That still belongs to us.

I want to be honest about the limits of that claim. The argument that human judgment is safe from automation isn’t permanently settled. AI is advancing in that direction too. Anyone who draws that line with complete confidence is overconfident.

But if I define my value only by output and routine execution, I’ll always be vulnerable to something faster.

If my value includes judgment, trust, discernment, adaptability, and the ability to connect my small part of the field to a larger purpose, then the picture changes. AI becomes a tool I use, not a definition of who I am, or an immediate replacement for the work I do.

For some people, this reframing will feel like genuine good news. Their roles have always required judgment, and AI can finally free them from the parts that didn’t.

For others, the harder truth is that their role may need to change. Some work is primarily mechanical. Some lanes will be redesigned or eliminated in this process.

The courage in that moment isn’t pretending the role is something it isn’t. It’s being willing to grow. To move toward the parts of the field where human judgment still has the most to offer.

That is a hard ask. Unfortunately, for many people, it’s becoming a necessary one.

I also want to be honest about who fits this reframing the most. If you have domain knowledge, a network, and some runway, the opportunities ahead are genuine. If you are mid-career in a role that has been primarily mechanical, the path from insight to action looks different. That doesn’t make the direction wrong. It means the journey looks different depending on where you’re starting from.

But here’s something else worth considering, especially if uncertainty feels more like a threat than an opportunity.

The same tools raising these questions are also lowering barriers in ways we have never really seen before. Starting something new used to require capital, staff, infrastructure, and years of groundwork before the first real result.

That is still true for some things. But for many others, the gap between I have an idea and I have something real has collapsed in ways that are genuinely new.

The foosball player who spent years developing judgment, domain knowledge, and an instinct for the game now has access to tools that can help them build something of their own…not just execute better inside someone else’s system.

That’s a different kind of power than speed or efficiency.

It’s agency, if we choose to use it.

And it doesn’t have to be a solo venture. Some of the most interesting things happening right now involve small groups of people — two, three, maybe five — who share domain knowledge, complementary judgment, and a problem worth solving. With the help of these AI tools, they can pool their capabilities in ways that would have required a full company to attempt a decade ago.

Not everyone will go this route. Not everyone should.

But the option is more available than it has ever been. And for the person who has been quietly wondering whether there’s a different game they should be playing, this moment may be less of a threat and more of an opening.

The foosball player is still fixed to the rod. Still limited. Still dependent on timing. Still part of a game they don’t fully control.

That hasn’t changed.

What may need to change is the story the player tells about themselves. A bigger, truer one. One with more possibilities.

Use the AI tools. Learn how to maximize your position with them.

But don’t let AI reduce you.

You were never only the motion. You were never only the output. You were never only the kick.

You were the one responsible for what to do when the ball came your way, and that’s still true.

And now, for the first time, you may have more say than ever in choosing your table.

Photo by Stefan Steinbauer on Unsplash – I’ve only played foosball a few times. I’m terrible at it and haven’t played it enough to feel like the game is anything more than randomness and chaos. Funny thing is that lots of workers have a similar perspective on the job they’re doing for their employer.

When the Disruptors Get Disrupted

For most people in IT, change is constant.

New platforms arrive. Old tools fade. Processes are reworked. Skills must evolve.

In that sense, disruption has long been part of the job description.

Software developers create new and improved tools. They streamline workflows. They automate tasks that once required entire teams. Over time, they have reshaped and disrupted how work gets done across nearly every industry.

This pattern has been in place for decades.

For software developers, something different is happening now.

With the arrival of AI-assisted development tools, including systems like Anthropic’s Claude Code, disruption has begun to turn inward. These tools are reshaping how developers approach their own work.

For many in the profession, this feels unfamiliar.

Software development continues, but the definition and details of the role are shifting. Tasks that once required sustained manual effort can now be generated, refactored, tested, and explained with remarkable speed.

A developer who once spent an afternoon writing API integration code might now spend fifteen minutes directing an AI to produce it, followed by an hour reviewing edge cases and security implications. The center of gravity moves toward judgment and direction rather than execution and production.

When job roles experience disruption, responses tend to follow predictable patterns. Some people dismiss the change as temporary or overhyped. Others push back, trying to protect familiar and comfortable ways of working. Still others approach the change with curiosity and engagement, interested in how new capabilities can expand what’s possible.

Intent Makes the Difference

An important distinction often gets overlooked when discussing pushbacks.

Some resistance grows from denial. It spends energy cataloging flaws, defending established workflows, or hoping new tools disappear. That approach drains effort without shaping new outcomes. It preserves little and teaches even less.

Other forms of resistance grow from professional judgment.

Experienced developers often notice risks that early enthusiasm misses. Fragile abstractions, security gaps, maintenance burdens, and failures that appear only at scale become visible through lived experience. When developers raise concerns in the service of quality, safety, and long-term viability, their input strengthens the eventual solution. This kind of resistance shapes progress rather than attempting to stop it.

The most effective developers recognize this shift and respond deliberately. They move away from opposing new tools and toward advocating for their effective use. They ask better questions. They redesign workflows. They establish guardrails. They apply experience where judgment continues to matter.

In doing so, they follow the same guidance developers have offered others for years.

Embrace new tools.
Continually re-engineer how work gets done.
Move upstream toward problem framing, system design, and decision-making.

Greater Emphasis on Judgment

AI generates code with increasing competence. Decisions about what should be built, which tradeoffs make sense, and how systems must evolve over time still require human judgment. As automation accelerates, these responsibilities grow more visible and more critical.

This opportunity in front of developers calls for leadership.

Developers who work fluently with these tools, guide their thoughtful adoption, and help their teams and organizations navigate the transition become trusted guides through change. Their leadership shows up in practical ways:

-pairing new capabilities with healthy skepticism

-putting review processes in place to catch subtle errors

-mentoring junior developers in how to evaluate results rather than simply generating them

-exercising judgment to prioritize tasks that benefit most from automation

Disruption has always been part of the work.

The open question is whether we meet disruption as participants, or step forward as guides.

Photo by AltumCode on Unsplash

Why Curiosity Is the New Competitive Advantage

Imagine two managers sitting at their desks, both using the same AI tool.

The first asks it to write the same weekly report, just faster. Three hours saved. Nothing new learned. Box checked.

The second uses the AI differently. She asks it to analyze six months of data and search for hidden patterns. It reveals that half the metrics everyone tracks have no real connection to success. Two new questions emerge. She rebuilds the entire process from scratch.

Same tool. Different questions. One finds speed. The other finds wisdom.

This is the divide that will define the next decade of work.

For a long time, leadership revolved around structure and repetition. The best organizations built systems that ran like clockwork. Discipline became an art. Efficiency became a mantra.

Books like Good to Great showed how rigorous process could transform good companies into great ones through consistent execution. When competitive advantage came from doing the same thing better and faster than everyone else, process was power.

AI changes this equation entirely. It makes these processes faster, yes, but it also asks a more unsettling question. Why are you doing this at all?

Speed alone means little when the racetrack itself is disappearing.

Curiosity in the age of AI means something specific. It asks “why” when everyone else asks “how.” It uses AI to question assumptions rather than simply execute them. It treats every automated task as an opportunity to rethink the underlying goal. And it accepts the possibility that your job, as you currently do it, might need to change entirely.

That last part is uncomfortable. Many people fear AI will replace them. Paradoxically, the people most at risk are those who refuse to use AI to reimagine their own work. The curious ones are already replacing themselves with something better.

Many organizations speak of innovation, but their true values show in what they celebrate. Do they promote the person who completes fifty tasks efficiently, or the one who eliminates thirty through reinvention? Most choose the first. They reward throughput. They measure activity. They praise the person who worked late rather than the one who made late nights unnecessary.

This worked when efficiency was scarce. Now efficiency can be abundant. AI will handle efficiency. What remains scarce is the imagination to ask what we should be doing instead. Organizations that thrive will use AI to do entirely different things. Things that were impossible or invisible before.

Working with AI requires more than technical skills. The syntax is easy. The prompts are learnable. Connecting AI to our applications isn’t the challenge. The difficulty is our mindset. Having the patience to experiment when you could just execute. The humility to see that the way you’ve always done things may no longer be the best way. The courage to ask “what if” when your entire career has been built on knowing “how to.”

This is why curiosity has become a competitive advantage. The willingness to probe, to question, to let AI reveal what you’ve been missing. Because AI is a mirror. It reflects whatever you bring to it, amplified. Bring efficiency-seeking and get marginal gains. Bring genuine curiosity and discover new possibilities.

Here’s something to try this week. Take your most routine task. The report, the analysis, the update you’ve done a hundred times. Before asking AI to replicate it, ask a different question. What would make this unnecessary? What question should we be asking instead?

You might discover the task still matters. Or you might realize you’ve been generating reports nobody reads, tracking metrics nobody uses, or solving problems that stopped being relevant two years ago.

Efficiency fades. What feels efficient today becomes everyone’s baseline tomorrow. But invention endures. The capacity to see what others miss, to ask what others skip, to build what nobody else imagines yet.

The curious will see opportunity. The creative will see possibility. The courageous will see permission. Together they will build what comes next.

The tools are here. The door is open. Work we haven’t imagined yet waits on the other side. Solving problems not yet seen, creating value in ways that don’t exist today.

Only if you’re willing to ask better questions.

Photo by Subhasish Dutta on Unsplash – the path to reinvention

Choosing Curiosity Over Fear

When we look toward the future, two voices compete for our attention. Fear tells us to run away. Curiosity invites us to step forward.

Fear whispers, “It’s too much. I can’t keep up. Better to stop trying.” Curiosity responds, “I don’t understand…yet. Let’s see what happens.”

Fear closes.

Curiosity opens.

Fear imagines disaster.

Curiosity imagines possibilities.

Fear isolates.

Curiosity connects.

The world is changing quickly. The pace can feel overwhelming. Many will react with fear. A curious spirit asks questions. It wonders what could be.

Curiosity doesn’t remove uncertainty but transforms how we deal with it. When we lead with curiosity, we move from paralysis to participation. We see the unknown as a chance to grow.

“Never let the future disturb you. You will meet it with the same weapons of reason which today arm you against the present.” – Marcus Aurelius

We already have the tools we need. Curiosity and our ability to learn. What we need is the courage to use them.

Photo by ALEXANDRE DINAUT on Unsplash

The Shades Are Down – Reflecting on Anthony de Mello’s Parable

Tim Ferris has a weekly newsletter – 5 Bullet Friday.  In last Friday’s update, he highlighted a quote from The Way to Love, by Anthony de Mello.  This post isn’t related to that quote (although it could be).  It’s based on the rabbit hole I dove into, reading other parts of the book.  Right out of the gate, de Mello offers a short parable that’s simple at first glance but goes deeper the longer you sit with it.

“A group of tourists sits on a bus that is passing through gorgeously beautiful country, lakes and mountains and green fields and rivers. But the shades of the bus are pulled down. They don’t have the slightest idea of what lies beyond the windows of the bus. All the time of their journey is spent in squabbling over who will have the seat of honor in the bus, who will be applauded, who will be well considered. And so they remain until the journey’s end.”

It’s not a long parable, but it says a lot.

We are each on this ride.  This one journey through life. And all around us is beauty: the people we love, small joys, the smell of fresh rain, a child’s laughter, songbirds chirping right outside our window, the warmth of a good cup of coffee in the morning. 

But our shades are down. We don’t see any beauty, because we’re too busy with things that don’t matter.

We’re measuring. Comparing. Ranking. Arguing about position, prestige, attention. Scrolling, reacting. Meanwhile, the scenery goes by. Gorgeous, wild, and fleeting. We barely glance out the window.

What struck me about de Mello’s story wasn’t the travelers’ arguments.  It’s the view that was always there. The view never stopped being beautiful. The issue wasn’t the lack of beauty. The issue was where they were looking.

This parable is a quiet reminder to lift the shade. To let in the light. To remember that it’s not about getting the “best seat on the bus.” It’s about not missing the view.

So today, maybe take a breath. Look around. Listen a little longer. Smile at someone. Appreciate a small thing that usually passes by unnoticed.

Another of de Mello’s insights that’s in line with his parable:

“The most difficult thing in the world is to listen, to see. We don’t want to look, because if we do, we may change. We don’t want to look, because we may discover that the world is not what we thought it was.”

Sometimes the shades stay down not because we’re distracted, but because we’re afraid. If we truly see what matters, we might have to stop chasing things that don’t. We might have to let go of the version of ourselves that depends on being applauded or admired or seen in a certain way.

But what if that’s the invitation? Not to force ourselves to change, but to wake up to what’s real in our lives. To notice the world again. To feel the wonder again.

The awareness de Mello points to is freeing, like the child’s creativity in my previous post.

It’s the kind of awareness that reminds us we’re not stuck in the noise unless we choose to be. We can pull up the shade. We can look.

Because the ride is short. The view is worth seeing. 

And in that beauty, we can see we are never really far from joy.

Photo by Eiliv Aceron on Unsplash

What I Thought I Knew

What I Thought I Knew

There was a time I made a big leap “out the window.” I walked away from something I thought I had to escape. I didn’t have a detailed plan, just a deep sense that staying where I was would burn me out.

What I should have realized at the time was that while I was escaping one fire, I was just trading for another.

That’s the thing about decisions. They rarely come with clarity. They come wrapped in burdens and hope and urgency, all dressed up to look like certainty. But certainty is often just a story we tell ourselves to keep moving.

I’ve gone back and questioned plenty of decisions. I’ve hit pause, looked around, and asked, “Was that the right thing to do?”

Sometimes the answer is no. And that’s okay.

I’ve made wrong turns. I’ve said yes when I shouldn’t have. I’ve said no when I was afraid. But here’s something I’ve learned the hard way: wrong turns can still move us forward. Even the “mistakes” taught me something. Sometimes they were the only way I could learn the lessons I needed to learn.

Side note: If you can learn from watching someone else’s journey, that’s often preferable to taking the hard knocks that accompany most of the big lessons in life.

The truth is, not every decision will hold up to hindsight. And not every success will look like success right away. Some answers show themselves slowly. They show up only after struggle, reflection, and time. They need hardship to help them mature. Sometimes they even need failure.

I’m lucky. Along the way, there were people who didn’t try to fix me. They just stood with me while I figured it out. They gave me space to question, to re-route, to second guess. That kind of support is rare. And I’m grateful.

To those people: thank you. You helped me see what I wasn’t ready to see. You let me grow into the answers I didn’t even know I was seeking.

These days, I’ve learned to forgive myself for the detours. For the second thoughts. For the “what ifs” I’ll probably carry forever. I’ve changed my mind, more than once. With every shift, I’ve learned to find moments of peace.

Here’s the point: Maybe wandering is the way.

Wisdom doesn’t show up all at once. It grows, shifts, even contradicts itself. Sometimes it stumbles. Sometimes it starts over.

One thing I know for sure: What I thought I knew was only the beginning.

Photo by Andrew DesLauriers on Unsplash

Breaking the Rhythm of Mediocrity

Each of us has a natural speed.  A rhythm that feels comfortable. Some of us move fast, always pushing, never stopping. Others take a slow, methodical approach. And some avoid movement altogether.

Occasionally, we can shift gears and speed up for a short-term need. But the comfort of our standard speed usually draws us back.

Dialing up is hard. It’s difficult to imagine doing more than we’re doing now. It’s harder still to visualize the better outcomes that could come from pushing ourselves and our organizations beyond the status quo.

Even worse is when we deliberately slow our pace to fit in.  To blindly match our rhythm to those around us, in our workplace, our social circles, our environment. The groups we allow to shape us.

The slow, almost imperceptible tick-tock of our internal metronome feels safe, especially if it’s set to someone else’s rhythm. It’s predictable. It gives us a (false) sense of control when we have no control at all.

We tell ourselves that changing our settings would bring chaos.  Better to stay safe and avoid the challenge. 

If we’re willing to turn our settings down to accommodate others, why not turn them up to pursue our own goals?

Why not push beyond our comfort zone to improve, to evolve?  Why not try to inspire those around us to ramp up? 

The things we don’t change are the things we’re actively choosing. Doing nothing is a choice.

Life moves at a relentless pace, largely outside our control. What we can control is our response.  We can set our internal rhythm to match what’s happening or set it to create what we want to happen.

Here’s a brutal truth: The outside world doesn’t grant or deny us anything. It keeps moving, with or without us.

It’s up to us to set our own tempo—not for the group, not for the organization, but for ourselves and the people who matter most.

Photo by Lance Anderson on Unsplash

It’s Up to You

Consider all the things that are up to you:

  • Your mood when you wake up.  Waking up on the wrong side of the bed is your choice.  You alone decide how you’ll approach each new day.
  • Your morning routine.  What’s included or excluded?  How much time are you providing for yourself in the morning?  Are you rushing, or welcoming the day at the pace of your choosing?    
  • The tone of interactions you have with others.  Are you smiling when you’re talking (whether in person or by phone)?  Are you looking for faults in others, or the good in others?  The energy you bring is your choice.
  • Your career choice.  Unhappy at work?  What are you doing to change it?  Are you changing your situation, or just complaining.  Not sure if you should work in your chosen profession?  What are you doing to figure it out?  If this profession isn’t for you, what concrete steps are you taking to prepare to work in another profession?  You decide all of it.
  • Whether you choose to manage your day, or let it manage you.
  • The places you visit and frequent.
  • Your hobbies.  Do you even have a hobby, or are you too “busy” for anything that brings you joy or peace outside of work? 
  • Your friends.  Are they lifting you up or bringing you down?  Jim Rohn said, “You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with.”  Choose wisely.
  • The organizations you choose to join or support.

This list only scratches the surface. 

It’s easiest to let someone, or something, else make the decisions for you.  But remember—choosing not to decide is a decision, and you own it.    

So, what kind of day will you have?  What kind of life will you live? 

It’s up to you.   

Photo by Eric Prouzet on Unsplash

Running Through the Tall Grass

“You will know that your children will be many, and your descendants like the grass of the earth.” – Job 5:25

This image of my granddaughter running through the tall grass lingers in my mind, a snapshot of pure joy and freedom. The grass climbs high as her shoulders, swaying in the gentle breeze as she runs, her laughter echoing across the open field.

The sun, high in the sky, casts a warm glow across the landscape, reflecting off the stalks and highlighting the strands of her long blonde hair. It’s a moment of unbridled innocence, an expression of life at its most carefree—a reminder of the potential and possibilities that lie ahead in her life.

Watching her, I’m struck by how this simple act of running, so natural and effortless, captures the essence of childhood. Children have an innate ability to live fully in the present, to see the world as a place of wonder and adventure. For them, the future is not something to be feared, but something to eagerly anticipate. Every new experience is a chance to explore, to learn, to grow. In her dash through the tall grass, we get a glimpse of how life is meant to be lived—full of energy, curiosity, and a fearless embrace of the unknown.

As the years (decades) go by, it’s easy to lose our innocence, our thirst for adventure. We may see our future with a sense of foreboding, even doom…rather than an opportunity to expand our journey. We allow the sense of adventure that once propelled us forward to be dulled by the responsibilities and challenges that life inevitably brings. Our carefree days of childhood disappear into the past.

The passage of time doesn’t have to diminish our sense of adventure. We can choose to embrace life with the same enthusiasm and curiosity that we had as children. We can still find joy in the simple pleasures, still run toward the unknown with hope in our hearts.

Life’s journey is not about avoiding the tall grass, but about diving into it, feeling the sun warm our backs and the gentle breeze cooling our faces. It’s about seeing each day as an opportunity to expand our horizons, to live fully and freely, just as my grandkids do.

The tall grass may rise like a challenge, but it is also where the most profound discoveries await. And as I step into that field, I carry with me the certainty that the journey ahead, like the path I’ve already walked, holds boundless potential.

In a field of tall grass she runs,
her golden hair warmed by the sun,
each step a whisper of freedom,
the horizon an open invitation.

I watch her and remember—
the world for me was once this wide,
full of endless possibilities,
before fear narrowed that view.

But the grass still sways,
and I can still run,
following her laughter,
knowing the path ahead
will bring great discoveries,

a promise of new beginnings.

p/c – My daughter, Julianne, texted this photo earlier this week of Lizzy running through the tall grass of their pasture.  The moment I saw the photo, I knew the topic of my next blog post. 

You are the Observer: Using the Hawthorne Effect for Self-Improvement

The Hawthorne Effect refers to a psychological phenomenon where humans modify their behavior in response to being observed or studied. This effect was first observed in the 1920s and 30s during a series of studies conducted at the Western Electric Hawthorne Works in Chicago, hence the name.

The studies were designed to investigate the relationship between lighting conditions and worker productivity. But researchers found that regardless of changes in lighting, workers’ productivity improved when they knew they were being observed. This meant that the mere act of being the subject of an experiment or receiving attention could influence individuals to perform better.

It also means this powerful personal growth tool is available to you. It turns out that you are the observer you’ve been waiting for, the catalyst for your own transformation.

“You can’t learn to swim by reading a book about swimming. You have to get in the water.” – Unknown

The Burpee Quest

Funny thing about burpees:  watching someone do a burpee makes it look super easy (barely an inconvenience).  If a Crossfit guy tells you that a good warmup is 10 burpees per minute for 10 minutes, you might think that’s totally doable…until you try it.  You’ll learn about muscles you haven’t used in years.  You’ll be reminded that gravity is not your friend, and that you’re not as coordinated as you thought.

What if you start by doing 10?  Not 10 per minute for 10 minutes.  Just 10.  Each day.

That’s a tangible and doable goal to start.  You can observe (there’s that word) your progress and set incremental milestones for more.  Maybe you move up to 20 per day the second week, 40 per day the third week. 

A great way to keep track of your progress is to track your progress.  Sounds simple…but most people skip the tracking.  Tracking is your way to observe (there’s it is) your progress, and lets you become your own motivating force.  Write the date and burpee count down on a piece of paper, in your favorite journaling app, or maybe in an Excel spreadsheet. 

You are incrementally moving toward 100 burpees in a day.  You’re tracking your progress and will start to see the significance of each step toward your goal.

There’s something else you can observe (that word again).  Your body’s responses while you’re doing the exercise.  It will get easier as you go.  Easy?  No, just easier.  Your body (and mind) will begin to move to a higher level of performance.  Your baseline capability will increase.  Gravity still isn’t your friend, but you’re starting to learn how to partner with gravity to do the next burpee.

“Learning without reflection is a waste. Reflection without learning is dangerous.” – Confucius

It’s been 4 or 5 weeks since you started this quest.  You’re now able to do 3 sets of 25 burpees each day.  You haven’t reached 100 burpees yet, but you’re well on your way.  If you’re like most people, you might observe (there it is) that you can lighten up a bit at this point.  You’ve totally got this.  You don’t need to push as hard to improve from here.  Your goal is in sight.  Don’t fall into this trap!

This is the moment to refocus your goal…push it out a bit…extend the finish line.  You’ve already mastered the movements, now you need to apply discipline and blow past your original goal of 100 burpees per day.  Parlay this achievement into the next goal? 

Maybe actually using the 100 burpees as the warmup that Crossfit guy described.  You’ve been working on just getting to 100 burpees in a day, but what’s the next exercise you can do after your burpee warmup?    

Same process.  Take it in increments, track your progress, celebrate your milestones, welcome to another new baseline, continue to improve, set the next goal.        

How can you apply this to your profession? 

Actively seek opportunities to acquire new skills. Embrace the awkwardness of not knowing exactly how to do something…and do it anyway.  Remember that the satisfaction of learning and growth is uniquely yours. You, as the observer, choose the path of continuous learning.  It’s the best way (the only way) to adapt to the evolving demands of your profession.

Improve your value in increments, track your progress, establish new baselines, continue to improve.  Sound familiar? 

Solicit constructive feedback from colleagues and mentors, appreciating external input as valuable guidance. However, remember that you are the only one who can internalize and implement these insights.  Nobody will do it for you.

“Experience is a hard teacher because she gives the test first, the lesson afterward.” – Vernon Law

Your Keys to Self-Improvement

  1. Consistently integrate self-observation and improvement into your routine, recognizing that only you can chart the course of your personal growth.
  2. Reflect on your experiences, setbacks, and successes, understanding that the satisfaction of improvement is a personal journey. You are the sole interpreter of your progress.
  3. Remain flexible and open-minded, adjusting your methods based on feedback and new insights. As the observer, you continually determine refinements to your approach.
  4. Embrace setbacks as opportunities for growth, understanding that the satisfaction derived from overcoming challenges is a deeply personal experience. Stay committed to your objectives, recognizing that only you can appreciate the significance of your efforts.

The Hawthorne Effect is your friend (unlike gravity).  Use it and always remember that you are the observer, the driver, and the one who benefits most from your continuous improvement journey.