When I have a great idea, I get excited.
I’ll whip out my notebook, scramble for a pen, push the mess off my desk and start writing furiously. It’s thrilling! I enjoy the process of coming up with ideas, and the feeling that I might be coming up with the next big one makes me feel alive.
Half of me believes that this rush inspires me to keep coming up with more ideas. The other half of me believes the rush is what keeps me from consistently implementing them.
When I tell someone about my great idea, I see it as a game. How quickly can I make their eyes light up? How can I present these concepts in a way they’ll understand? How much excitement can I draw out of them? I enjoy the process of spreading ideas, and the feeling that others see the potential in them makes me feel like a genius.
Half of me believes this rush proves I should take the risk on my ideas. The other half of me believes the rush is what keeps me from ever doing anything about them.
My brother has a note scrawled on a torn piece of paper tacked above his desk. It reads as follows:
“One concept actually internalized is worth a thousand seemingly life-changing epiphanies.”
By this, I think he means that he can be the most brilliant armchair philosopher, he can read every book in the world, and he can think his way through every potential problem, all the way to success. But without actually internalizing these thoughts, training them to become habits and allowing them to change his life, they’re worthless.
I feel the same way about my ideas. I’ve stopped telling very many people about my ideas. I want to save the dopamine rush for when I actually complete them. I think my brain gets just enough satisfaction from having an idea and telling others about it. It no longer needs to finish the storyline of “making the idea happen” to get a sense of achievement. It already got that from just talking about it.
I want to stop this and get better at making my ideas happen.
Will you join me?