Comparison - 046
3 generations of Kahanas – 1987 and 2022
Who Had It Easier?
After the kids had all gone to bed, a group of us were still up talking.
The conversation, as usual, drifted towards parenting.
Our host for the weekend, a friend's mom, said casually about us as parents:
"But you all have it so easy."
[record scratch]
Really?!
She may have been talking about the baby monitoring apps on our phone or the accessibility of buying new diapers and toys over the internet.
But I have to disagree.
I feel like parenting has gotten exponentially more difficult.
We're being scrutinized more –by friends and parents on the playground and strangers on the internet.
We're feeling more isolated from any village or community to help us raise our kids.
We're more informed about long-term effects of, well, everything.
We're parenting through a pandemic.
And we're the first generation where marriage is about sharing emotions and trying to equalize the inequalities of societal gender roles.
It's making co-parenting SO much harder.
Or maybe everyone just wants to believe that they have it harder than everyone else...
It's got me thinking this month about comparison.
Why do we compare ourselves to others and what is the cost?
How do we size up to our former selves?
Let's compare notes.
"The Main Character" street art by Michael Pederson
How To Grow Greener Grass
First, notice that everyone is growing their own grass.
Grass is not easy to grow. Nurturing the grass: watering it, feeding it, weeding it and making it the way you like it will help in greening your grass.
If you look closely, everyone’s grass is a different shade of green. Define for yourself what shade of green and what type of lawn best suits you. Lime is just as nice as olive, forest, and yes, even puke. The more you can appreciate your shade, the less you’ll care what color someone else’s grass is.
Over time, your grass may appear less green but that is only because you aren’t really looking at it or spending time appreciating it. Sit in your grass. Play with the blades in your hand. See how it holds your body and comforts you as you lay in it.
Spend time in other people’s grass if you must. But try and see how even they are looking for greener grass.
It’s always ok to dig up some grass and replant patches. Be patient.
Don't forget to remove the weeds.
The grass will get greenest where you take care of it the most.
Fake grass looks greener, but remember the real thing is always better.
(You know this is not about grass, right?)
Part of the Fashion Report Series by Pablo Rochat
New Vibrations
10 years ago, I was in a stage of life that was all about finding the new.
New restaurants. Neighborhoods. First dates. Nights out. Adventures.
Compared to back then, my life today feels monotonous.
Morning routine. Get the kids ready. Work. Meetings. Pick up the kids. Make dinner. Eat. Clean. After-dinner walk. Bathtime. Bedtime. Repeat.
Forever.
Initially when I noticed, it felt sad.
My life is boring. Nothing new ever happens.
But then
I started reading my life like a seismograph.
From far away, the ups and downs used to be obvious. Lots of newness activity meant excitement, drama, action. Today, the needle doesn't move all that much but that doesn't mean nothing is happening. I've gotten better at reading it.
The newness is subtle.
I can make an after-dinner walk feel like a secret adventure simply by bringing a headlamp and a bag to collect treasures.
I can turn a bath into a memory by dumping a little extra bubbles in and getting myself a little wet.
Walking to school is a chance to find fairies.
Last week, Golda and I slept in a tent in our backyard.
The magnitude of newness is small.
A small change feels significant when everything is stable.
I don't have to shake my whole world.
Yeah, Buoy
Sometimes
I am the buoy.
I am tumbling through the turbulence in the waves
of my emotion
of my relationships
of my work
of my life.
Holding on to the sea like a rodeo cowboy.
Sometimes
I am the anchor.
Held firmly grounded, steadfast
in my values
in my experience
in my identity
in my life.
And on the days
I am at my best
I am the rope
that lets the buoy feel grounded by the anchor;
and lets the anchor feel like it can float with the buoy.
Where I can be both.
Comparing Ourselves to our Heroes
The wisdom of the novelty mug says:
"You have the same 24 hours as Beyoncé."
There's an implication here that someone as prolific as Beyoncé (or at least as creative) barely sleeps. And that she's spending 24 hours working.
It's obviously not true, but it's hard to know what is.
After all, we're not all creating masterpieces like Renaissance every day.
There's a great interview where Tim Ferriss interviews Tim Urban (of the blog Wait, But Why). Urban talks about feeling behind in his work:
"My problem, when I’m not being productive, is that...
I’m behind on my stuff, so, I [feel like I] need to work 14 hours.
...And then, six hours into the day, I’ve already blown it.
I’ve already blown the day...
That night, I go to bed thinking...'no, I can’t go to bed now. I can’t let this be the whole day.'"
When he talks about focus, it sounds similar to what we teach at Caveday:
"With deep focus it's shocking how much you can produce...
writing like 15 hours a week.
Add those weeks together, 40 weeks later, you have a book."
We compare ourselves incorrectly to our prolific, creative heroes.
It's not about using our 24 hours. Or our hustle. Or even our desire.
The prolific creator does 15 hours of focused work out of 112 waking hours.
The self-loathing person does zero.
One-seventh versus zero sevenths.
The other six-seventh of our lives, 97 hours a week, are fundamentally the same.
For the record, I've written 46 monthly email refrigerators writing only about 3 hours a week.
We don't have to be Beyoncé.
And we don't have to quit because we'll never be her.
In fact, we don't even need the same 24 hours as her.
We just need a focused few.
Outdoor art by We're Not Really Strangers
Uh oh. It's over.Does this one measure up to last month's?
It's almost impossible not to compare.
We all are comparing everything all the time.
Comparison makes me feel worse more often than it makes me feel better.
I may never stop comparing myself and my work to others.
So here's a reframe that I try to keep in mind:
I am an apple in a world of oranges.
And so are you.
Thank you for being in my life, just as your are.
I'm grateful you're here.
Until the next one,
-Jake
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