Take the Leap: Get SERIOUS

What Commitment Really Requires

Why do intelligent, capable people who sincerely value something repeatedly conduct themselves as though that something doesn't matter?

We want to become more knowledgeable, build relationships, improve our health, develop our craft, or build wealth. We may want these things sincerely, even passionately.

Yet wanting something doesn't make it a priority.

The distance between our convictions and our conduct can be uncomfortable. It can also tell us something worth knowing about ourselves.

The Comfort of Wanting

There's a peculiar comfort in wanting something.

We can imagine the outcome, appreciate its importance, and enjoy thinking of ourselves as people who value it—all without substantially changing how we operate.

We can genuinely value learning while avoiding situations that expose what we don't know.

We can value relationships while giving them only the time and attention that remain after everything else is done.

We can profess commitment to health while repeatedly postponing the practices that support it.

Our stated values may be entirely sincere. Sincerity doesn't settle the matter, however.

What's at work when our behavior consistently fails to reflect our stated priorities?

Sometimes we want the result but resist the work. Sometimes we fear failure, favor immediate pleasures, or underestimate competing demands on our time.

Sometimes genuine constraints prevent us from acting as we'd wish. Not every discrepancy between conviction and conduct represents poor judgment or insufficient commitment.

Still, the gap deserves examination.

Are we choosing deliberately? Are we avoiding something? Have we made room for what we claim matters?

Or are we simply enjoying the comfort of wanting?

Seriousness Requires Judgment

Seriousness isn't simply the willingness to work harder. It's the willingness to exercise judgment, accept tradeoffs, and allow a chosen priority to influence how we operate.

Sometimes that requires greater effort. Sometimes it requires doing less, abandoning an ineffective approach, or confronting an uncomfortable truth.

Consider leadership.

A leader can work extraordinarily hard and still persist with an approach that no longer serves the people or the work. Serious leadership requires questioning assumptions, welcoming unwelcome information, and changing course when circumstances warrant.

The commitment isn't to being right. It's to doing the work well.

The same principle applies to learning, relationships, craftsmanship, health, and wealth-building.

We must distinguish between what we want to accomplish and the methods we've grown attached to. Persistence may be warranted. Revision may be necessary.

Occasionally, sound judgment requires relinquishing a goal that no longer deserves our pursuit.

Seriousness isn't stubborn allegiance to a decision. It's sustained responsibility for the quality of our decisions.

Uphill Habits, Downhill Habits

John Maxwell uses the language of Uphill Habits and Downhill Habits to describe practices that move us toward our aspirations or pull us away from them.

It's useful imagery because our habits can carry us in a direction we haven't consciously chosen.

There's a complication, however.

We can mistake difficulty for progress.

We can work harder, endure more, and maintain demanding routines without questioning whether they're accomplishing anything worthwhile.

An Uphill Habit isn't valuable merely because it requires effort. Its value depends on where it takes us.

Similarly, ease isn't necessarily complacency. A well-designed routine can make important work easier and more consistent.

The essential question isn't whether our habits are difficult or comfortable. It's whether they're taking us where we've decided we want to go.

Our habits may reveal priorities quite different from those we profess.

One choice proves very little. Patterns, however, are revealing.

Our repeated behavior provides evidence that our declarations cannot.

We needn't condemn ourselves for discrepancies. We do need to examine them.

The Price of a Priority

Every meaningful commitment makes demands on our finite resources.

Time. Attention. Energy. Money, perhaps. The willingness to forgo alternatives.

We cannot give everything first place.

Yet we often behave as though choosing a new priority shouldn't require relinquishing anything else.

We add another ambition to an already crowded life, announce that it matters, and hope the necessary time and attention will somehow materialize.

When they don't, we conclude that we lack discipline, motivation, or sufficient hours in the day.

Perhaps. Or perhaps we haven't made a decision.

A priority isn't simply something we want to add to our lives. It's something for which we make room.

That may require reconsidering an obligation, establishing a boundary, changing a routine, or accepting that something worthwhile must wait.

Some obligations cannot be set aside. Nevertheless, within the choices available to us, seriousness asks that we exercise judgment rather than leave everything to habit, convenience, or chance.

Pleasure, rest, spontaneity, and the people we love are not impediments to a serious life. They may be among the very things we're serious about protecting.

When Enthusiasm Leaves

A declaration of commitment can feel exhilarating.

We imagine ourselves becoming more knowledgeable, capable, accomplished, or effective.

Then comes an ordinary Tuesday.

The work is unremarkable. Progress is difficult to see. Competing demands are present. Something easier or more immediately rewarding calls us.

What happens next?

Do we return to the work? Reconsider an ineffective approach? Adjust our expectations? Ask for help? Or do we continue treating the undertaking as important in principle and optional in practice?

Seriousness doesn't require blind persistence. A commitment deserves periodic examination, not automatic renewal.

Is the goal still worthwhile? Is our approach effective? Have circumstances changed? Are we honoring the commitment at an unreasonable cost to something more important?

These are questions worth asking.

When the undertaking still deserves our commitment, however, we act accordingly—even when the novelty has worn off and the rewards are not immediately apparent.

We needn't be solemn about any of it. We can approach demanding things with humor, curiosity, pleasure, and delight.

The leap is deciding to take something seriously; the real test is what happens afterward.