doing things that are rewards in themselves
chasing the infinite game
For the past two months or so I’ve been waking up disgustingly early and I’ve been really enjoying it. I’ve been making myself a good pour over coffee and I’ve been reading a book. And the book punched me in the face: “Early in the morning at the break of day, in all the freshness and dawn of one’s strength, to read a book – I call that vicious!” And this made me think, Friedrich might be right this time. It is a little silly to start the day by reading thoughts of other people. Which is why I’ve replaced my book reading with jumping straight into my note taking app and writing whatever is on my mind.
For a while, I liked that more. But then after a while it became boring. I realized I am just spinning in circles. Same themes, same thoughts, same old. I realized I’m not that interested in writing thought pieces, in ruminating, in endless self-cannibalization inherent in personal writing that doesn’t expand the point of view outside the narrow navel gaze. I realized I have a tendency towards theorizing and I’m not particularly fond of that trait of mine. I value the practical more. I respect people who build. Talk is cheap, after all.
There is the Goldilocks zone when it comes to the practice of writing. Doing it too much ruins it. It takes all the fun out of it. And I’ve become more sensitive to detecting when this fun goes away. If I follow it, it absorbs me completely. The time stops existing. If I continue forcing it even after it leaves, it turns the activity into labor. Which is a great way to stop doing it completely.
I want to play infinite games. I never want to write to achieve a goal. I don’t want to reap rewards. I want only to do things that are rewards in themselves. I keep asking myself: is this fun? Was it fun once and now I ruined it? What’s stopping it from being fun? I want to be playful and serious at the same time. Serious about continuing the play. Serious about removing any obstacles to fun. And that sometimes means not overdoing it. I think this practice of publishing once a month keeps me in that zone. It’s not too frequent, but also not too relaxed. It’s just enough pressure.
I want to do things that are generative. I never want to passively consume. If my idea file is growing that means I’m doing the right thing. It’s so fun to think what can be done with the computer, with the internet. I don’t think we realize how good we have it. Isn’t it magical that there is a machine that you can tell what to do, that can solve some interesting problems for you, and then you can also share the solution with other people who have the same problem? Isn’t it magical that you can just do things? That no one is stopping you, that you don’t need permission from anyone? I keep thinking about this and comparing it to writing. Is writing the best I can do with these tremendous gifts I’ve been given or have I just squandered it?
Maybe I’m just overthinking it again. And this is another anti-pattern of mine. Have you considered that thinking more about the problem is probably not going to solve it? So I tell myself, I need to follow my intuition more. I tell myself it’s okay to do or skip doing something because I like it that way. Because it feels right. I don’t need to come up with elaborate argumentation for everything I do or don’t do. Maybe this all stems from the fact that I would like to be understood, to be legible and rational. And I just want to play more.