I was 10 years old, passionately disinterested in Mr Tuck's
Math class, but completely sold on my first great obsession. To this
day, I can remember aching with ambition as I watched skateboarders Tony
Hawk and Danny Way twirling ten feet above a Californian half-pipe, in
brazen contravention of the laws of physics.
I dearly, desperately, more-than-life-itself wanted to be like them! The urge was all-consuming. And spurred on by this pulsating need, I donned my baggy pants, turned my cap backwards, skinned my shins irreparably and won the regional Skateboarding Championships three times; a feat I would never have achieved without that imitative compulsion.
We all have our favored legends, icons, and platinum-level achievers. They knock around in our imaginations and light fires inside us, whether they're as grandiose as international sports stars or as humble as the office leader we admire.
Watching them in action ignites our own hunger to perform, and despite the much-lauded modern view that we should 'only compete against ourselves', there is something deeply stirring in the primal human compulsion: "I want to be like that!"
Don't be fooled. Watching someone else do what you want to do, and burning with the envy to imitate, is immensely motivating. I still use its driving force to spur me on to this day.
No matter how far I progress in my own industry, deep down inside, that same little voice is still spurring me on, still watching the greats and whispering, "I want to be like that!"
I recommend that little voice to you. It gets things done. Not a popular view:
People who wear flowers in their hair and run home-industry stores selling herbs and crystals generally disagree. They would have you quell that urge. They'd have you renounce competitiveness as a Western disease, and replace it with positive and unqualified feelings about yourself.
Curiously, these folk are rarely seen at the Olympics. Or on the cover of Forbes. Or atop the New York Times bestseller list. Or at the skateboarding world championships, for that matter.
I'm much harder on myself than that. And I recommend a harder approach to you too.
It is a basic human drive to want to emulate our idols - take our place beside them on the pedestal - and it can draw surprisingly great things from us. Proviso:
Now, here's the problem: When observing our idols, we only see their 'on-stage' activity. Emulating that is meaningless. What we really need to emulate is their backstage preparation. And that's a whole lot less sexy.
Take the athlete: We see no more than the burst of glory, the flashing of cameras, the medal being lowered around the neck. We rarely see the years of agonizing work that preceded it.
Excellence isn't what you see. It's what came before it. Proficiency isn't the visible act. It's the invisible preparation. Mastery does not occupy a moment, but grows out of years of discipline.
This is where the urge to emulate our idols comes in handy; it is perhaps one of the few human drives strong enough to sustain the years of practice that excellence ultimately requires.
When last did you look at someone doing what you want to do, occupying the heights you would love to occupy, and feel something simmering deep inside you? A sort of yearning at the very centre of your being?
How deep is your ache? How painfully, compulsively, do you want to be like them?
Don't judge the ache. Don't buy the idea that it's somehow evil, covetous or ignoble. It can help you. Feel it. Let it burn a little. Seek it out when you flag or fail. And then when you've stoked the coals of performance-desire, take action.
Emulate the
back-stage preparation. If the desire burns strongly enough, you'll pick
up your skateboard and happily skin your shins. Over and over again.
Years will pass as you practice.
And one day you'll surprise yourself by looking around and discovering that you're right there on the pedestal, that they're lowering the medal around your neck, that you're standing beside your idol... perhaps even one step up!
I dearly, desperately, more-than-life-itself wanted to be like them! The urge was all-consuming. And spurred on by this pulsating need, I donned my baggy pants, turned my cap backwards, skinned my shins irreparably and won the regional Skateboarding Championships three times; a feat I would never have achieved without that imitative compulsion.
 |
| Douglas R Kruger |
We all have our favored legends, icons, and platinum-level achievers. They knock around in our imaginations and light fires inside us, whether they're as grandiose as international sports stars or as humble as the office leader we admire.
Watching them in action ignites our own hunger to perform, and despite the much-lauded modern view that we should 'only compete against ourselves', there is something deeply stirring in the primal human compulsion: "I want to be like that!"
Don't be fooled. Watching someone else do what you want to do, and burning with the envy to imitate, is immensely motivating. I still use its driving force to spur me on to this day.
No matter how far I progress in my own industry, deep down inside, that same little voice is still spurring me on, still watching the greats and whispering, "I want to be like that!"
I recommend that little voice to you. It gets things done. Not a popular view:
People who wear flowers in their hair and run home-industry stores selling herbs and crystals generally disagree. They would have you quell that urge. They'd have you renounce competitiveness as a Western disease, and replace it with positive and unqualified feelings about yourself.
Curiously, these folk are rarely seen at the Olympics. Or on the cover of Forbes. Or atop the New York Times bestseller list. Or at the skateboarding world championships, for that matter.
I'm much harder on myself than that. And I recommend a harder approach to you too.
It is a basic human drive to want to emulate our idols - take our place beside them on the pedestal - and it can draw surprisingly great things from us. Proviso:
Now, here's the problem: When observing our idols, we only see their 'on-stage' activity. Emulating that is meaningless. What we really need to emulate is their backstage preparation. And that's a whole lot less sexy.
Take the athlete: We see no more than the burst of glory, the flashing of cameras, the medal being lowered around the neck. We rarely see the years of agonizing work that preceded it.
Excellence isn't what you see. It's what came before it. Proficiency isn't the visible act. It's the invisible preparation. Mastery does not occupy a moment, but grows out of years of discipline.
This is where the urge to emulate our idols comes in handy; it is perhaps one of the few human drives strong enough to sustain the years of practice that excellence ultimately requires.
When last did you look at someone doing what you want to do, occupying the heights you would love to occupy, and feel something simmering deep inside you? A sort of yearning at the very centre of your being?
How deep is your ache? How painfully, compulsively, do you want to be like them?
Don't judge the ache. Don't buy the idea that it's somehow evil, covetous or ignoble. It can help you. Feel it. Let it burn a little. Seek it out when you flag or fail. And then when you've stoked the coals of performance-desire, take action.
 |
| Let the ache burn a little. And success can be yours. |
And one day you'll surprise yourself by looking around and discovering that you're right there on the pedestal, that they're lowering the medal around your neck, that you're standing beside your idol... perhaps even one step up!
Douglas Kruger is a professional speaker, trainer and author of the '50 Ways' series of books. His most booked keynote speeches are: The Rules of Hamster-Thinking, The Big Bum Theory, and How To Position Yourself As An Expert.
See him in action or read more of his articles at: http://www.douglaskruger.co.za. Email him at: kruger@compute.co.za or follow him on Linked In or Twitter: @douglaskruger
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