Your Best Work is Ahead of You (and Other Stories)
Grand Canyon Backpacking Trip, Day 4
This is a nested story about how the stories we tell ourselves shape our worlds.
Part One: In Theory
Why do we navigate through the world using stories? What is the hidden cost?
Swimming in Stories
If stories were physical phenomena, they would be stateless, manifesting as solids, liquids, and gases.
Solid – Stories solidify when we allow opinions to masquerade as facts. We run into the walls of the invisible container we call “I”.
Liquid – Like a fish in water, stories are life’s setpieces. We’ve internalized our stories for so long that we forget they were just stories.
Gas – Stories are unborn and unceasing, existing beyond time. Inquire into a story’s source and it will dissolve into thin air.
All of our core desires collapse into three categories: desires for approval, security, and control. All stories serve the needs of these three masters.
Approval – We tell stories to portray ourselves in a positive light. (See: Performing Arts)
Security – We tell stories to make sense of an uncertain world. (See: Economics, Religion)
Control – We tell stories to elevate “I” above the “Other.” (See: History)
Instead of “Why am I telling this story?” ask “In what ways does this story serve me?”.
We all contain a Ministry of Truth, organizing our lives into convenient narratives. These archival records wait for our approval, security, or control to be threatened. The record is edited with each access to protect against the latest threat. Sometimes, we get a rare glimpse at the inner workings of our editorial machine.
In cases of severe epilepsy, the right and left brain are surgically separated. Each hemisphere has separate perceptions, concepts, and impulses to act, withholding information from the other side. The language center bridges the inferential gap as best as it can. But patients share this guess with the conviction of a certain fact.
And the Reason is You
A handy rule of thumb: anything that comes after the word “because” is bullshit.
Why? Because… because is the cradle of reasons and all reasons are invented. We DO NOT know why we do things, any more than we know the sound of one hand clapping. Like split-brain patients, we lack access to the reasons themselves – so we invent them.
No invented story is objectively true or false. Each is just one perspective and one interpretation of the multitudes available. But only one possibility gets carved on a stone tablet.
This editorial process is habitual and automatic. Our stories become ingrained and deeply internalized. We forget where they came from or whether they ever really happened in the first place.
Perception is a subjective bet. Uncertainty is maladaptive.
This software ships with bugs.
Storytelling is a creative act and all storytellers have reality distortion fields. We see what we’re looking for.
This is the law of karma: our actions persist in neverending cycles. The karma of our past creates conditions and perceived patterns in our present. We shape our stories and our stories shape us.
These karmic cycles are closed loops where our stories ravenously consume their tails. We tell stories and then act to collaborate on them. And you thought the internet was a confirmation bias machine.
Action → Story → Action → Story
Identity is how we see ourselves, the story of “who I am.” This narrative alters our perception, filtering out and denying anything contradicting it. Our stories become self-reinforcing and self-fulfilling. We are consumed by our own personal myth.
As Robert Anton Wilson puts it, “What the thinker thinks the prover will prove.” The mind does not care what story you’re telling. You can think whatever you want; the mind will prove it true.
I call this performative aspect of our stories Participatory Theater. Once you identify with a story, you’ve confined yourself to sticking to the script of that character. You’re not deciding, you’re play-acting. You are typecast in a role invented by yourself for yourself.
And yet, paradoxically, we still tell stories. Always have, and always will. We can’t stop, can’t prevent it. It’s hopeless. (Just try!)
Don’t think about a pink elephant.
Part Two: In Practice
This can get quite abstract without an example.
In Part Two, we inquire into a particularly dangerous narrative. What does it look like in practice to replace a story with a more helpful one?
Your Best Work is Ahead of You
Of all the stories that surface in conversations with clients, friends, and myself, one stands alone in its commonness and devastation:
“I’ve peaked.”
What is your most impressive accomplishment?
It’s my responsibility to inform you that you can where you once were is a place you can never return to.
This story – is it a virus, a drug, or a religion?” He shrugged. “What’s the difference?
“I’ve peaked” is the Snow Crash of stories: Insidious, intoxicating, and deeply ingrained. An all-pervading, perception-altering, self-fulfilling prophecy.
Take it from me. I’ve spent the last decade(+) trading on the reflected brilliance of past glories.
It doesn't work.
Welcome to Mount LocalMax (elevation: impressive, population: you)
The first time I retired from working was at age 23.
At the time, I was ranked in the top 20 online poker players worldwide. There was little time to celebrate reaching the summit of my professional career before I received the news of Black Friday, indicating that my profession, as I knew it, would soon be no more. What was left to do but ride off into the sunset and find the perfect forever beach?
I stand proudly at the summit and admire my great achievement. Mount LocalMax is my hill, and I’m the king here. It took everything I had to get to my peak.
I’m not the climber I once was. Why walk down from here and risk it all? Those mountains are so steep, and the trails are too crowded with competing climbers. Not for me, thanks.
Hmm… What if I go explore for a day hike? I’m not seriously trying to climb that other mountain. Maybe some new journey flavor can spice up this old destination.
'Hey there! Looks like we’re … exploring in the same direction. Might as well keep each other company. It can get lonely at the peak sometimes, you know. Did I ever tell you the story of how I got to the top of LocalMax?'
An easy recipe for a tough time: Measure anything you attempt against an unattainable bar.
It's Time to Turn on the Volume
What is the origin story of “I’ve peaked”?
We rely on spatial metaphors for narrative sensemaking. Our personal mythology is like a topographic map with elevation measured in units of external validation.
Your ego loves bringing this map to Show and Tell, beaming with pride. He is a needy bastard, don’t mind him.
Like plants reaching towards the sun, we plan, plot, and scheme methods to stake claim to territory representing greater heights. To be without the validation’s warmth is suffocating. Each achievement becomes a mere forward base in a forever war to occupy the highest ground.
It all starts with a single dot (y) representing where we are now. We draw a line through that point where (x) = [current mood] and extrapolate that slope into eternity, allowing ourselves an exhale of relief when our forecast calls for future crushing.
There are no straight lines in nature. We invented them. Straight lines are a defining human characteristic. Just like stories.
Our stories present the world in only two dimensions: up/down, and forwards/backwards. But we live in a multidimensional universe. Silly flatlander.
Your area feels so tight because you forgot to turn on the volume. You fixate on the plane of (x)/(y) when there are whole spheres of (z)’s out there to explore.
You have full permission to plot a new course in a different dimension: in/out/ahead/sideways. They’re all good.
When Facts Dispute Legends, Stop Printing the Legend
It’s easy to recognize someone trapped in an achievement orientation. Achievers narrate their career arc as a stacked tower of surprising but empowering triumphs, each victory foundational for the next. It’s self-consciously impressive metrics all the way down.
With enough recitation, the legend becomes so natural and complete that Achievers can convince any listener. Though really, they don’t even need an audience. Convincing themselves is satisfying enough.
Achievers are the most fragile when their story feels the most secure. Awareness and objectivity tend to abandon us when we need them the most.
What happens when *gasp* new facts dispute your legend? The expanding gap between narrative and reality eventually generates too much dissonance to bear.
Down rounds. Downsizing. Downgrades. Why is our elevation decreasing if our life is one big “up and to the right”? Our whole map of reality is called into question.
Sorry for Your Loss
That was a terrific identity you had. Too bad you had to leave it on the side of the road.
Untethered, we traverse the non-linear stages of grief, slouching towards acceptance.
Denial: “This is all I know.”
Anger: “This isn’t how I usually show up.”
Bargaining: “If only they knew.”
Isolation: “This isn’t for me.”
Acceptance: “I’ll never ___ again. And that’s OK. What got me here, won’t get me there.”
While you navigate the grieving process, remember to differentiate between content and context. Content is like a court reporter, a verifiable record of current events. Context is everything we manufacture from this record – our projected implications of what it all means.
Releasing an earlier narrative of success feels like backsliding. It’s natural to flinch. It’s easier to luxuriate in our familiar filth.
Ego’s favorite game is protecting us from discomfort. We pretend we can hide from inconvenient facts. But digging our heads into the sand doesn’t work.
The light does not create cockroaches, it only makes them scatter. Your content was sitting there, unacknowledged, this whole time. You chose not to look.
Don’t buy into the defeatist narratives reinforcing an unsustainable status quo. Yes, you are now venturing into new and unfamiliar waters. That does not mean you’ve wasted your time or made a mistake. You no longer need to swim with that giant anchor tied to your ankle.
Failure to accept leads to an unacceptable life.
Practicing Epistemic Hygiene
Like all stories, “I’ve peaked” feeds upon belief. Directing energy toward our projections reaffirms an illusion of solidity. We act as if believing in something makes it true. (If this were true, wouldn’t we be more discerning with our beliefs?)
What does storytelling feel like from the inside? A never-ending odyssey.
At our best, we are Odysseus, navigating ourselves as a sea vessel with narrative sirens on all sides, poking their heads out of the water like tricky icebergs. We need to plot a safe course through these narratives without getting shipwrecked.
Where is your peak? Wherever you believe it to be. If you sincerely want to believe that your best days are behind you, nothing I’ve shared can convince you otherwise.
My position? Few things in life have a worse ROI than rehashing our past.
If you believe you’ve already peaked, daily life loses its luster. You’re not quite depressed, it’s more like your sense of wonder and magic is extracted away. Everything seems mundane. The technicolor of nostalgia greyscales the present.
You lounge around waiting for a miracle second wind before setting out towards a less favored destination in more difficult conditions. (What show is premiering tonight?)
You can’t architect a new future with the blueprints from old stories. It’s like pumping the gas while flooring the brakes. You’ll raise eyebrows and burn some rubber but your view out of the windshield won’t change.
Watch the watcher. Notice what you notice. Inquire without identification.
You can wash your hands of the past and wipe the slate clean, in this very moment.
Airflow Overflow
I’d love to help you with your oxygen mask as soon as I’m sure my mask is secure. Why is this thing so damn complicated? Are you sure it works? What if my mask comes off? I feel constricted, do you have a mask in a larger size?
The default modus operandi is to ensure our survival before contributing to others. But at what point is survival no longer threatened? What is enough? When will we feel we have sufficient time, money, knowledge, skills, and freedom not to grip our resources so tightly?
Feeling scarcity, we allow craving and aversion to dictate our relationships. We pull desirable objects towards us and push undesirable objects away. We're so occupied forming judgments about how it is all working out for us that we’re never quite with it.
No realistic quantity will ever make the appearance of scarcity go away. If that coffee isn’t enough, don’t bother with a yacht. Even if you could feel truly satisfied, you’d soon worry about losing it. It’s hopeless.
A perceived lack of abundance is our greatest obstacle to making a greater contribution. Instead of sitting up straight and looking out, we continue to pour into a cup that is already full.
Dropping the Suitcase
Our peak achievements are a source of connection and power. But placing these moments on a pedestal creates unhealthy competition between our past and future selves. Our pride and attachment to success fabricate barriers, preventing us from thinking and perceiving clearly.
What makes it past our barriers? Only that which matches our current story. We grasp onto confirming evidence and discount discard all outliers.
Our past selves (our oldest and most diehard fans!) can be difficult to please but we always manage to pull it off. When it comes to inner dialogue, never deviate from your source material. You might wake up and realize it’s all fiction!
What doesn’t make sense isn’t worth much… is it? Then why keep it? Let’s ensure we save enough space for everything that proves me right.
Our attachments become normalized. We forget that we're the ones who picked up all that baggage in the first place.
Here’s the truth – you are the only one holding onto your stories. And you can stop holding on at any time.
It takes an ongoing effort to carry a suitcase, but no effort to stop holding on. You just stop. Drop the suitcase.
New Stories on Today's Menu
I have some exciting story options to share with you guys today. The chef put a lot of thought into preparing these. I had the opportunity to taste-test them myself and would recommend giving them a try.
Life is a dance through endless alternating cycles: expansion and contraction, explore and exploit, stability and turbulence. One movement’s end plants the seed for the next phase. Let the rhythm flow through you. Opportunities for expression abound if you keep the beat.
So you won’t be the ultimate winner in that game. Pick another! All games are made up so there are infinite games to choose from. Keep playing.
Equanimity is the ability to see all things as equal. From this perspective, accomplishments and failures are two sides of the same coin, only differentiated by our projections. You have the freedom to flip your current tale on its head.
There are many new stories to choose from. I can’t wait to see what you come up with.
Thanks for reading.
Is your best work ahead of you?
I offer performance coaching to support founders, executives, and investors like you in showing up as the best possible version of yourself.
If this article resonates, I’d love to have a conversation about shifting your narrative and stepping boldly into the next phase of your career.
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