May 14
In every undertaking, consider what comes before and what follows — and only then set about it. Otherwise you begin with enthusiasm but give up shamefully as soon as the difficulties come.
Enchiridion, 29
Listening mode
In every undertaking, consider what comes before and what follows — and only then set about it. Otherwise you begin with enthusiasm but give up shamefully as soon as the difficulties come.
When you picture the difficulties before taking something on, you usually imagine them large: a setback, some resistance, a week in which everything goes wrong. Against obstacles like these, resolve can be summoned. There is almost something you could tell as a story about them.
What actually makes you stop often looks less remarkable. An appointment that clashes with something else every time. A part of the work you didn't foresee because it was too boring to imagine. An afternoon when nothing stands in the way and you still don't start.
What becomes difficult then, above all, is reading your own reasons. Are you stopping because you have learned something about the matter, or only because the joy of beginning is used up? From the inside both feel similar: like sober insight.
So before you start, you can work out something besides the effort to be expected: what reason would later entitle you to stop. You won't always choose it rightly. But when you hesitate later, you won't hear only your tiredness. You will also hear a sentence you thought before anything was hard for you – and it doesn't necessarily sound wiser.
