Why We Should All Be “Trying Not to Try”
Demanding nothing in return for his kindness, the sage eventually obtains everything;
The sage does not accumulate things,
Yet the more he gives to others, the more he has himself.
Having given to others, he is richer still.
Laozi from Dao De Jing
The quote above is Professor Edward Slingerland’s translation of an ancient Chinese wisdom that appears in his book Trying Not to Try: The Art and Science of Spontaneity, which is the book is an inspiration for me in writing this post.
We are living in the modern world that everyone is trying so hard to be someone or to achieve something. We are living in a world in which most of us are encouraged to “be better than others,” “do more than others,” “get ahead of others.” I think that it’s about time to pause for a second and reckon with the reason why we do what we do.
The logic behind this? Simple. The idea of “better” is relative, the underlying reason for all of these is to be “better,” which, in essence, is all about comparing yourself to others byways of the result. When we want to be better, we automatically (and unconsciously) shift our focus from the task at hand to our expectation.
And as the field of modern psychology (as well as behavioral economics) shows, when the task at hand has not received enough attention from us, it often results, ultimately, in failure — sometimes not only that task at hand but also other related tasks as well. Professor Slingerland uses many examples such as basketball players and golfers who were “in the zone” — playing their best games naturally — only until someone reminded that them that they should “try to keep up with their game.” That’s when the “hot hand” was forced to make an error.
These players started to make mistakes, mostly unforced (known as “choking”) leading not only to the bad result but also the end of the focus on the task.
So, why is “trying” so harmful to what we want to do? Why shouldn’t we be trying? And, ultimately, what exactly is to “try not to try?”
Actually, to tell you the truth, I have been thinking about the question ever since I learned from the author Mark Manson’s best-selling The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck that on the tombstone of the legendary writer and poet Charles Bukowski writes “Don’t Try.” Manson, using this same example, of the tombstone writes what he understands:
Bukowski’s life embodies [what seemingly sounds like] the American Dream: a man fights for what he wants, never gives up, and eventually achieves his wildest dreams. It’s practically a movie waiting to happen. We all look at stories like Bukowski’s and say, “See? He never gave up. He never stopped trying. He always believed in himself. He persisted against all the odds and made something of himself!
But it is then strange that on Bukowski’s tombstone, the epitaph reads: “Don’t try.”
The genius in Bukowski’s work was not in overcoming unbelievable odds or developing himself into a shining literary light. It was the opposite. It was his simple ability to be completely, unflinchingly honest with himself — especially the worst parts of himself — and to share his failings without hesitation or doubt.
The story of Charles Bukowski is deeply interesting because it creates, almost instantly, the sense of “cognitive dissonance,” or the state of having inconsistent thoughts, beliefs, or attitudes, especially as relating to behavioral decisions, in our mind.
How can someone who simply did what he liked, and never tried harder, become more and more successful as his life progressed? Shouldn’t it be the other way around, as in, we must strive harder and harder and perhaps never stop? What’s the deal with his success?
If we look at modern research from a psychological perspective, backed by scientific research:
We are at best at what we do when we are in the “flow” (some use the idiom “in the zone” which have a similar meaning);
We are at best at what we do when we are not doing it for external rewards or results, but for our own need to fulfill our internal desire; in other words, we are at best at what we do when we, simply, enjoy doing it;
We are at best at what we do when we do it with a clear, not clouded, mind. Our mind can be clouded by all kinds of thoughts including getting a reward; and,
We are at best at what we do when we do it for a purpose larger than ourselves.
There’s a long list of scientific researches from various fields that support the following findings. I remember a countless time seeing someone’s doing something so brilliantly, but only until they’re being “applauded” for the work that they do that their brilliance begins to fall apart. Needless to say, it also happens to me countless time, which may have been the reason why I have been taking the “non-consequentialist” approach to things.
Economists believe that humans are driven by incentives. Give them the right incentives and they’ll collaborate, manufacture, and come up with great ideas. But historically, though, I have to say that’s not how great ideas and performances come about. The best-selling author and entrepreneur Rolf Dobelli has for us a succinct answer. He writes in The Art of Thinking Clearly:
Science has a name for this phenomenon: motivation crowding. When people do something for well-meaning, non-monetary reasons — out of the goodness of their hearts, so to speak — payments throw a wrench into the works. Financial reward erodes any other motivations.
That is to say, rewards, financial incentives, and material results are not the reason that motivates people to do a great thing or the cause of how great ideas come about. They are the reason that makes the focus of the doers shift from that of the “unconscious passion” to that of the “conscious consequentialist.”
As science shows, we automatically let go of the mental capacity to perform once that happens. The legendary swimmer Michael Phelps, too, always remind us of how he never aims at getting a medal when he swims: “I enjoy swimming and it’s just a routine.”
Just a routine? — He’s the most decorated Olympian of all time, with a total of 28 Olympics medals! Great minds, pioneers, athletes are those who do what they do because they, “simply” enjoy doing it, and because of that some of them are even excellent in what they do and therefore contribute hugely to the community and society in which they live.
Let me return, one more time, to the ancient Chinese philosopher Laozi’s view on why “conscious effort” (the trying-too-hard) and especially those who “strive are responsible for the world’s ills” are actually not as useful as they think. Slingerland translates the following:
The highest Virtue [de] does not try to be virtuous, and so really possesses Virtue.
The worst kind of Virtue never stops striving for Virtue, and so never achieves Virtue.
The person of highest Virtue does not act [wu-wei] and does not reflect upon what he is doing.
The person of highest benevolence acts, but does not reflect;
The person of highest righteousness acts and is full of self-consciousness.
Starting from today, I am going to try not to try.
