Amongst a new found adoration for The Weeknd’s album, and a (definitely not new) love for the actual weekend, there’s a new tune on repeat in my little head at the moment.
It goes something like this: min. effort, max. effect.
I’m convinced there’s a sort of profound escrow, like an upside down u-shape of effort vs output. We think that more time, more reflection, more effort and energy will result in something better, bigger, grander – something to be ‘more prouder’ of. (That is terrible English, and I’m not sure prouder is even a word, but you get me.)
It’s a joke, because this incessant perjury of ‘perfectionism’ is really quite paralysing.
How many things are put off, delayed, revisited, re-discussed, redone or still left untouched because it’s still not 4000% perfect?
While I always thought a messy bun looked better than a structured ballerina one anyway, I’m learning real quick, that done, is more often than not, better than perfect.
I’m also learning with this finite schedule, that shit needs to get done. Yesterday.
Today my food for thought is this delicious nugget: don’t let perfection get in the way of progress.
I sometimes wonder when the consequences of moving fast will catch up, when my flinging hands will reach and smash the chandelier, when the bell will finally call the end to recess or when something finally, has to give.
Because living on the edge implies there’s an edge, and a deep, deep exponential drop down – to where though, it seems no one really knows. Or is there no such thing as an edge, does the valley keep on keeping on, and if so where does it lead?
Everything ends – except circles, they go right back to the start. Maybe that’s what this whole life thing is.
Is this actually an elusive, spherical world type of set up? Will we just keep exploring, pushing the boundaries and shuffling ever closer to a peripheral cliff edge that doesn’t really exist?
If so, when do you realise the glistening flicker beat is just a mirage that sparkles only because you’re looking in it’s direction? Is jumping over the fence worth it, only to find out the grass actually isn’t as green as it looked from the sideline?
For me, I think it’s time to re-read the Alchemist. Because I’m feeling like Lorde, I’ve got a million bad habits to break, not sleeping is one.
It’s funny; I’d like to think of myself as someone who thrives on learning new things.
I really want to learn how to play guitar, to speak Spanish, and to master the art of cooking rice without totally ruining another good ScanPan. I also want to learn SEO and how to use chopsticks like a pro and be able to snap from raw story-telling to intensely formal corporate email writing in a second. Can I also learn how to use MailChimp, and change a spare tyre, and bake the perfect chocolate soufflé? Please and thank you.
A lot like you, there’s a lot I’ll get to, one day.
Keywords: one day.
What I’m finding though, that learning doesn’t happen from a place of ‘really wanting to’, there’s no motivation, scorecard, satanic trainer, or authoritative accountability associated with such an aloof desire. Not for me anyway.
The day dream of playing chords like Taylor Swift for the pleasure of campfire banter and impression of a Matt Corby-esque, man-bun is just not strong enough. And learning how to make an app just because it could be useful one day, doesn’t have a rich enough timeline to meet.
I still haven’t learnt any of these things, and I probably won’t. Why would I? I don’t need to.
Herein lies the catch: necessity equals results.
I’ll have you know, I’m becoming an expert in Google Adwords because my job demands it, I’m learning how to cook the perfect Spanish dinners because I now live out of home, and I discovered how to pump up my tyre because Dad wasn’t with me when a dose of air was vital if I wanted to roll any closer towards Yoga class.
Only out of desperation I skilled up.
The lesson is blatantly clear then, that nothing will happen unless it’s forced, demanded and required. End of.
Now I think of one of my favourite proverbs, Parkinson’s Law, which states that, “work expands to fill the time available for its completion.”
As a student, I know this to be supremely legit: you can either smash out an assignment in two weeks, or go from zero to hero in a record 4 hours with the company of a significant amount of caffeine if required.
Using old friend Parkinson to our advantage, there’s just one thing to do: get accountable.
And most of all, uncomfortable to the point where everything is new. Because by jumping over the edge the body has no choice but to follow, and live on. We hope.
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Time, it’s the only thing that everyone has equal amounts of. Interesting thought hey!
Jay-Z can’t buy time at the Rolex flagship store, and Macklemore sure can’t get it for 99 cents at the thrift shop. Beiber can’t hustle more with his angelic voice (joking) and I certainly cant find it at the St. Kilda Night Market.
Everyone gets the same amount. But how come some people get so much done in one day?
Well I recently met my Fairy Godmother in a dream, she said bibbity-boppity-boo and now I magically have so much more time!
She gave me a magical tool to use, it’s called a to-do list. And guess what, she said you can use it too, if you want.
Honestly, get yourself some A4 Reflex paper (preferably coloured), go all out with a scented gel pen (preferably glittered), and start jotting down an all-inclusive to-do list!
There is possibly nothing better than crossing a huge-ass line through a to-do list item, so let that motivation drive you.
And that’s my lesson on “How to get shit done 2.0” by Sheona Bello.
There’s a lot of noise at the moment about passion.
Passionfruit has always been delish, and Passiona a somewhat refreshing beverage.
But take away these suffixes, then your’e just left with little old passion. Just. Left. With. Passion. A 7 letter gem that shapes a lot of what the mystics call their ‘life-purpose’, what the entrepreneurs label their ‘calling’, and what I like to call, something bloody massive I just cant decide on.
I mean, personally, I want to be a writer, a dancer (currently I’m perfecting the moonwalk), a surfer (thanks Blue Crush), a corporate bitch, a band-member, a hippie who lives in a combi in Byron and sells handmade jewellery, a yoga instructor, a Buddhist monk, a mining magnate, Miranda Kerr… basically, everything under the sun.
I guess in my fiasco of options, I am desperately just trying to define my, wait for it… PASSION.
As I learn more about the said, 7 letter-er, I can safely say the two of us are slowly becoming friends.
Motivational books will tell you to “follow your passion” if happiness is what you truly seek, but thanks Confucius, how am I meant to follow something when I don’t even know what it looks like? There is no road-sign, no Google answer, not even a Wikipedia article that precisely tells me what my passion is. So, your notions of living a purposeful life are really of no help to me at all, not unless you help me find it anyway.
So I assigned myself a James Bond mission to get to the bottom of the P word. What I found was surprisingly simple.
What. Do. You. Love.
But here’s the catch, you have to limit it to 10. And list them in order.
These are your passions. Voila!
A 10-point list could very well include:
· Cheerleading,
· Shopping,
· Travelling,
· Eating McDonald’s fries,
· Being with friends,
· Reading,
· Watching the Disney Channel,
· Playing in the pool,
· Playing with dogs,
· Being in the sun.
Please note these are the Top 10 ‘passions’ of my 12 year-old sister.
So enlighten me, how on earth is she going to make a career out of being a dog-loving, junk-food munching, cheerleader? Truth is, mate, she’s not.
So as an informer big sister, do I tell her to discard all these fun things because, well honey, that ain’t gon’ pay the bills?
Nope, I tell her to lap them up, do these things, and do them often!
Do them for as long as you stop loving doing them, and when you do, find something more fun and enjoyable to replace them.
Because they are your passions.
(P.S she later argued, telling me that people actually can make money being a cheerleader, enough for a 50-cent cone anyway!)
I think what we get caught up in, is thinking that you have to find passion in a job or career, but truthfully, that would be condemning your crazy passions into a tiny hole and saying, ‘don’t move, breathe, or smile. No fun allowed’. Passion is so much more multi-faceted.
Sure, we would all love to be Oprah, or Kelly Slater, doing for a job what we LOVE, but let’s be realistic. Don’t think that if you are not able to land your dream job on Getaway, that you are going to live in misery, you can be as happy as Pharrell, even if you are the toilet cleaner at Flinders Street Station on a Saturday night.
But “how” you scream. I’ll impart my wisdom with you, it’s all about how you spend the remaining 77 hours of your week (considering a 35 hour work week and 56 crucial beauty sleep provisions).
That my sweet child, is where you live your passions. Read, dance, bake, write, sing, play, laugh and laugh some more!
Even if you just spend half your free time doing the things you love, you have already outbid your day job. Kapish?
So basically, yeah. Homework for this week, list your ten passions, and sacrifice Game of thrones to play out your own fanstasy!
I would love to hear your thoughts on the passionate topic, and what activities and things come up in your Top 10 list.
P.S Take a leaf from Janey’s book, this gal is one passionate painter!