I got up early to write this email. It’s cold—winter is coming to Nairobi. So, I’m ever closer to being a nomad, although I’m not fond of the word. Nomad-ity (I’ll coin the term) comes bundled with uncertainty. Similarly, being an early-stage founder comes with a gift basket of unknowns. Yet, despite all the life-limbo these days, I’m stable. How!? Today, I will unpack a trick I use to combat the cold, uncertain breeze of the universe. The breeze that whispers, ‘you might be wrong, Hec. You might be fucking it up’. We all feel this breeze from time to time.
A sunny disposition is not anointed at birth or inherited like a title. It’s trained (like triceps). Andrew Carnegie, the industrialist, writes, “A sunny disposition is worth more than fortune. Young people should know that it can be cultivated; that the mind, like the body can be moved from the shade into sunshine.”
Carnegie was born in 1834. Although Schumpeter wasn’t born until much later (in 1883), by 1840, Schumpeter’s then-unwritten theories of innovation were responsible for the upheaval of the Carnegie family. Steam made Carnegie’s father, a handloom weaver, redundant. So the family left their impoverished life in Scotland for an equally poor life in the land of opportunity, settling in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. At 12, Carnegie started work in the railroads and climbed the ladder, becoming the second wealthiest person in the world (after Rockefeller). Later, Carnegie’s attention turned to philanthropy, writing and campaigning against the British monarchy in favour of a British republic.
Carnegie lived an extraordinary 83-year life. His secret was clear to him: “I am optimistic; all my ducks being swans”. No matter how bad things get, or how precarious the situation, the flock of bad-luck-ducks were, to him, always a regatta of swans.
A happy life is all about perspective, and we, with effort, can choose that perspective. An acid trip or a vipassana can illuminate this truth. We can codify our views by writing them down (as I do each week when I email them to you) or talking them through with friends. Our actions manifest our perspectives. For example, there is no need to worry if something doesn’t go to plan since there are many doors each miss-hap opens. Our lives are like thrown die, and all we can do is watch how they land (and grin).
The above is not to say we should live blinded by optimism. It’s certainly no bad thing to raise those ‘why’ questions. Why do I get angry? Why do I feel stressed? Why the heck am I here? Therapy is a valuable space to sit and consider the questions which define our lives. All too often, our living, working and relationship decisions lie unseen under the weeds of each day. How often have the months (or years) slid past where we’ve avoided a decision because it’s not a priority? I mention it most weeks, but drinking was an ignored ‘bad apple’ in my cart for too long—for years. Taking the time to examine my life sooner would have been good for my soul and life expectancy.
A contradiction has emerged here. How do we live an examined life (in Plato’s words) while also seeing our ducks as swans? Doesn’t one demand realism but the other blind optimism? The trick, I suggest, is writing down our short-term plans and committing to them.
We know that task-changing wrecks our productivity. A day looking at WhatsApp and not burying myself in my thoughts is a bad one. My phone is on aeroplane mode now, and my emails are closed. For example, I’m a better writer when I’m on the page, flitting between the words, and not scrolling Twitter. Switching costs are more expensive than we think.
In our heads, we task-change persistently: Is this job right for me? Should I move house? Should I have a coffee? I’m a fan of routine because it eliminates the noise that daily decisions make. Committing to a path, even in the short term one, is liberating.
Take, for example, my living situation. A couple of months ago, I became stressed about where I was going to live, so I went away to a cabin for a weekend and decided to live in Nairobi until, at the very least, November. Friends have asked me why November? Why Nairobi? I tell them I made it up, just like all the other decisions. I no longer question where I live. It’s an enigma for a future Hector and not for today. I am doing this with more elements of my life, and it’s liberating. Each duck of concern becomes a swan of clarity.
The other advantage of committing to a plan, even a short-term one, is that it encourages us to think deeply now—as we know we’re tying ourselves to the decision. It’s here where we can live a more examined life. Even if it’s as simple as a plan for the day, spending those ten minutes at the outset, writing up a shortlist of to-do’s, is immensely helpful. I’m advocating that we settle on a plan that lasts for months (or longer) and not hours. In doing this, we can reduce the storm of questions that can swamp our minds each day.
Carnegie writes, “If you want to be happy, set a goal that commands your thoughts, liberates your energy, and inspires your hopes.” I’m suggesting when we set these goals, we think deeply about them, share our thoughts with friends and write down our decisions with an expiry date. We can then re-visit them in the future, and live unencumbered from doubt.