Why do we do what we do?
from shadows to rooftops
I love asking people why they do what they do. Why people vote the way they do, do the jobs they have, spend their weekends bowling, training for a marathon, fixing up an old motorcycle or traipsing through a city taking two trains to see a play. Beyond hobbies and interests, it intrigues me why some people do things in the shadows and others shout it from the rooftops. I’m just as interested in why people don’t do things, what holds them back.
I’ve noticed that women second-guess themselves a lot, triple-read an email before sending it, and worry endlessly about how they are perceived at work or by colleagues and friends. Is self-doubt connected to gender? It seems to sway that way in my non-scientific research.
Every essay I write here goes through the same rigmarole. I write it, then re-read it over and over again. Then contemplate deleting it. Then I finally take a deep breath and click publish, and then close my eyes and walk away, and just cross my fingers that people like it. But that’s a good thing; it keeps us on our toes and ensures quality, hopefully. Why do I do it? Because I am following a line that interests me, I am curious to see where it goes.
Doubt is all very well if you still do the thing in the end. Overcoming that “what makes you think you have something to say?” voice is part of the thrill.
Ambition is intriguing. I have very little, much to the chagrin of people close to me. I hate putting myself ‘out there’ with the exception of this weekly missive. And even then, I don’t chase numbers or readers. But some people have buckets full of it, and it drives them, like a little motor that lives inside their bellies. I love it when ambition is put to good use.
“And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.”
- Sylvia Plath
In a NYT Opinion piece from a few months back, David Brooks writes about motivation, ambition and the source of what drives us.
He writes:
How much are you driven by the intrinsic desire to be good at what you do? How much are you driven by the desire for extrinsic rewards like money and fame that being good can bring you? And most crucially, what is the ratio between these two motivations? I’d say if your intrinsic commitment to the craft isn’t dominant, by say 70-30, you’re on morally perilous ground. If you’re just doing it for the money and fame, you’re going to cut corners. You will lack a sense of calling and a true commitment to the vocation, and your lack of intrinsic passion will show up in your work and life.
He differentiates between two types of love and sees those as drivers towards the kind of work we put out into the world. Gift Love stems from abundance; we want to share and foster human connection. It comes from a place of delight and purpose.
Need Love comes from emptiness, a hole that needs filling and ultimately leads to isolation rather than connection. Brooks asks:
From where does my ambition flow, from a sense of abundance or a sense of hollowness?
Do we do good work for the quiet and noble satisfaction of knowing that good work is its reward?
For some, life is a ladder to be climbed. Is the measure, then, how we rank? Or is it by the quality of our output, irrespective of how it shapes up against the person sitting beside us?
Unsung heroes transform lives, and no one knows. Altruism in play.
In the course of many hours of coaching leaders and hearing stories about how teams and organisations work, I have learned a few things.
One is this:
There are many remarkably talented people, highly regarded by their teams, who are doing good work, purpose-led work. They aim to make things better, to have a good impact. They work quietly, head down and don’t often ask for accolades or promotions. But deep down, they know their worth and the impact of their contribution. So when a chance to progress comes up, they wrestle with taking it. Are they good enough? Will other people be better? Is it hubris to even try? Often they do try, and often they get the job. Their self-belief is buried under layers of self-doubt. They are driven by intrinsic motivation, and the extrinsic terrifies them.
Then there are other kinds of people. They chase promotion; they want to see their name in lights. They raise their hand for every opportunity, stand on the stage and share their self-belief that they have the answers. Some do. Some are good. But frequently not better than those I have described above. These people are led by a singular purpose: to promote themselves, their brand. They will spout words about compassion and empathetic leadership and then ignore or belittle the people who work for them. They don’t see what is directly in front of them, and they trip over their intentions; they can’t walk the talk. These people are all bravado and bluff: extrinsic motivation is what pulls them forward. But here is the kicker: they don’t know it, and due to their style of leadership, no one feels safe enough to tell them. So they carry on, oblivious to the damage they do. They have truckloads of confidence, but their purpose is all wrong.
Confidence without purpose is like rolling a boulder up a hill; it will only get you so far.
On the other hand, a wasted talent is forever hidden.
Imagine not sharing what you know, deep down, is good. Imagine not even knowing it is good. Imagine letting fear of failure drown out the deliciousness of sharing your work. What about all the colours we cannot see unless we look?
“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”
- Maya Angelou
While I am writing this, I can hear the leaf blowing menace outside my window. It is a huge pet peeve of mine. Why not use a broom and save us all the pain of enduring this noise? But I digress. The thing I hate even more than a leaf blower is when people with minimal talent get plaudits and fame, and people with incredible talent go unrecognised because they can’t self-promote or haven’t got the confidence to rise up and share. This applies to a struggling poet or a young executive who wants a promotion.
It all comes down to confidence, in the end. The etymology of “confidence” is quite beautiful. Confidence comes from the Latin confidentia, which breaks down into:
con- meaning “with” or “together” and fidere meaning “to trust” or “to have faith”
So literally, confidence means “with trust” or “with faith” - originally it referred to trust in someone or something else, but evolved to mean trust in oneself.
But what is the point of confidence if we don’t know why we know what we do? The answer must always be to look beneath the surface and ask why. What is your purpose here? What drives you? Carl Jung famously wrote, “Until you make your unconscious conscious, it will direct you and you will call it fate.” Dig a little, unpeel that onion. Find out what motivates you and let that be the engine that drives the faith. If you don’t, you are in danger of being married to your limitations.
“Argue for your limitations and, sure enough, they’re yours.”
-Richard Bach
If you are stuck, take Oliver Burkeman's advice: “just do more of the things that matter, for the projects and people and causes you care about most.”
Speaking of Oliver Burkeman, this, his most recent newsletter, encourages us to follow what makes life interesting. An interesting life is the prize, is it not? Follow what you care about, and you can’t go wrong.
Thank you for following and reading. I appreciate you being here. Sam x
your words always inspire! I also really enjoyed the Oliver burkerman article. have you read any of his books? if so, do you have a favourite?