Plunging toward something terrifying lets you know that you're making progress, pushing your limits, forcing growth. The best, most enjoyable points in my life have been preceded by fear (leaving home for college, starting really tough roles, dropping a safe job so I could get into the software business, moving across country).
Conversely, the points of the most significant stagnation have been entirely devoid of fear. If I'm not scared, clearly things are too safe, too mild, too absent of challenge.
I measure how well I'm using my days by recency of fear. I know if I'm getting too comfortable, things are getting slack and it's time to start evaluating what new risks and challenges could lead to interesting rewards.
Have I screwed up? Sure. Plenty of gambles didn't pan out, but each and every one of them taught me a lot. Most also gave me a great pivot to work with, leading to new opportunities I never would have found.
It's a more proactive regret minimization framework, but I like it. Most importantly, it got me to the Bay Area, the best place I've ever lived.
It depends on what you mean by inaction. If by inaction you mean letting fear hold you on your current course then you may be right but we should distinguish between that and intelligently weighing and discarding an option.
The stories we hear about are the ones that worked out. That figures, the people who jacked in a $100,000 a year job to found a business that died on it's arse (and remember most do) aren't so willing to talk about it. It's important not to have your vision skewed by the availability of overwhelmingly positive examples.
Life throws a lot of chances at us and, if we've made good decisions up until now, there's a very real possibility that you're already in a situation that is better than those being offered to you.
I'm not saying don't try new stuff, just that the idea that staying where you are is automatically some sort of failure is bunk.
Sure. I ditched a safe $60,000 a year (plus bonus and other meaty goodies) job because I wanted to work in software. This is good money in Orlando, FL and I did this in mid 2009, when the economy was terrifying. Eventually I ran out of money as an indie. So my effort did die on its arse. But now I work in the software business. It was awesome.
I'm sure there are plenty of ways I could have ended up less lucky than I have. I try to think of luck as a function of work, though. I want to believe I'm a survivor, but I've definitely been fortunate.
All I'm saying is that if you've got some sort of direction you feel is important but you never take action, that's the failure. If you take action and don't succeed, there's a lot you might do to make the most of your new position, thanks entirely to your having taken the risk.
Plunging toward something terrifying lets you know that you're making progress, pushing your limits, forcing growth. The best, most enjoyable points in my life have been preceded by fear (leaving home for college, starting really tough roles, dropping a safe job so I could get into the software business, moving across country).
Conversely, the points of the most significant stagnation have been entirely devoid of fear. If I'm not scared, clearly things are too safe, too mild, too absent of challenge.
I measure how well I'm using my days by recency of fear. I know if I'm getting too comfortable, things are getting slack and it's time to start evaluating what new risks and challenges could lead to interesting rewards.
Have I screwed up? Sure. Plenty of gambles didn't pan out, but each and every one of them taught me a lot. Most also gave me a great pivot to work with, leading to new opportunities I never would have found.
It's a more proactive regret minimization framework, but I like it. Most importantly, it got me to the Bay Area, the best place I've ever lived.