Never underestimate procrastination.

I want to say something about procrastination.

Dan Sullivan once wrote (and I paraphrase) that when you procrastinate, it’s a sign that you’re not the right person for the job you’re avoiding doing. Whatever that thing is, it probably ought to be done by somebody else. Your task, then, is to find the right Who for the job (a pivotal concept from his book, Who Not How).

But in writing—and countless other callings—that example doesn’t follow.

To call out another encouraging thinker, I’d imagine that Steven Pressfield would refer to procrastination as an effect of experiencing Resistance. I love his philosophy of Resistance and highly recommend his works, The War of Art and Turning Pro.

But as I've come to know it through my own relationship with the philosophy of living, procrastination is what happens when you’re called to do something towards your greater purpose. It’s big and it’s scary, and a hundred reasons why not to do it materialize with zero effort and all at once. (And due to my procrastinating, I’m short on time here, so I’ll get to the point.) 

Writing is hard. It’s scary, because it requires me to show up as the most real, honest, vulnerable, yet focused version of myself that I know how to summon.

All day, I waited and waited before sitting down to write this post. What came out when I begrudgingly showed up at 9:30 at night (before I wrote what you’re reading now) was an insult to the Muse.

It wasn’t good. At all. It was boring.

And maybe this is boring, too, but at least I might get you to walk away with this:

Pay attention to where you are procrastinating. You might have some unfinished business with yourself there, concealing yourself from experiencing the person you were brought here to be.