To goal or not to goal

I'm going to cut right to the chase here and say something controversial, but, nevertheless, true:

It isn't important or essential to have goals.

!!!

Don't get me wrong: Goals and goal-setting really work for some people. These folks derive a lot of satisfaction from training their eyes on a specific outcome and then working toward it.

But, by the same token, goal-setting can spell trouble for many of us.

When is goal-setting troublesome?

When we make our goal/goal achievement a contingency for our happiness, we set ourselves up to suffer.

This kind of goal-setting looks like choosing outcomes because you believe they will give you some feeling that you're currently lacking. In coaching terms, this is an example of an outside-in approach.

For instance, if you think happiness comes from losing weight or becoming a published author or hitting a specific salary threshold, and you set a goal accordingly, one of a few things will happen:

1. You become so hell-bent on achieving your particular goal that you're absolutely miserable in the process. Working toward it feels laborious, a total slog, and no part of this quest after happiness via your goal is actually bringing you any happiness.

2. You reach your goal and, within a short time, you wonder, Is this it? You return to feeling however you felt before, because happiness isn't embedded in anything external. It can't be; feelings don't work like that. (You might fight me on this and say, "Yeah, but when I started making $100K, I really did become happier," and I'd say, "That's great! I'm happy for you. But it wasn't the money or the goal achievement that made you happy; it was whatever you were thinking about the money or the goal achievement that inspired your happiness.")

3. You don't reach your goal and you beat yourself up for it. You use this failure as proof of your many character defects, and you feel even less happy than you did before you began your pursuit.

When it's outside-in like this, goal-setting doesn't make a whole lot of sense.

When might you want to play with goal-setting?

When it feels good, fun, interesting, or exciting to pursue something, you might find yourself dreaming up a goal.

This kind of goal-setting looks like going after something because you want to do it, and because it feels good in the moment. You don't need it, whatever 'it' is, to feel any type of way, because all feelings come from thoughts alone. In coaching terms, this is an example of an inside-out approach.

You want to see what it's like to complete a marathon, and it feels so good to run, so you sign up for one that's a year out and begin weekly training.

You think NaNoWriMo sounds like a cool challenge, and you've always loved to write, so you commit to writing a draft of a novel in a month's time.

The idea of doubling your income seems outrageous and delightful and, somehow, unlocks a bunch of creative ideas inside you, so you take it on for fun.

Since your emotional state is generated from your thinking, and your thinking changes no matter what's going on in the external world (that's the nature of thinking), goals and goal achievement aren't needed to feel good. In fact, they can't make you feel good. They can prompt thoughts that cause you to feel good (or not so good), but they can't, in and of themselves, create a feeling within you.

It's only when your emotional okay-ness isn't at risk that goals can be what they're supposed to be—that is, truly playful activities you can engage with throughout the game of life.

Whether or not you meet you goals doesn't matter. Nothing whatsoever is riding on them.

When it's inside-out like this, goal-setting is light and fun. Goals are changeable and even abandon-able, and if you do stick with and meet a goal, hooray! An added bonus.

Will you get what you want in life if you don't set any goals?

I don't know if you'll get what you want in life, but here's the thing: It isn't goals that get you what you want anyway.

Operating in and from the present moment is more likely to get you what you want. (This, in contrast to living in the past or the future—which is to say, living in your thoughts.)

From the present moment, you can make decisions that are rooted in what you want; you have the freedom to change your mind (in other words, the goal isn't in charge around here); and you're flexible and responsive to what presents itself in any given moment.

Life is happening all the time, regardless of your intentions, goals, efforts, and plans. You're not making life happen, no matter how much you feel like you are, or like you have to.

Don't you need to know what you want in order to move forward in life? Isn't defining what you want worthwhile?

Life moves you forward whether or not you know what you want (or think you do).

It's not your job to move life forward.

And, in fact, nothing you do actually moves life forward.

We're all presented with opportunities of all kinds, all the time. We have gut feelings about things—we think, Yes, I want that, or No, thanks; I'll pass, about a myriad of things all the livelong day. We don't need to do a whole lot of digging to unearth our true wants in life. We just kind of know what sounds good to us in the moment, and we go off and do it.

So, defining what you want isn't not worthwhile...but I wouldn't say it's categorically worth everyone's while. Maybe it's better to say: It's worthwhile if it's worth your while. In other words, you do you.

A five-year plan is great if that works for you. If you can truly see it as a game, if your grip on it is light (all the better if it's nonexistent), if you know it won't actually bring you any feeling—super, wonderful, carry on!

But if it doesn't occur to you to make one, or if you just think you should have one, because it seems like all the successful people do (they don't), skip it. You'll do just fine in life by operating in the present moment alone, figuring it all out as you go. We are designed to work this way.

What do you think?

How do you feel about goal-setting? Do you believe goals are necessary to your success and happiness? Or are you someone who hasn't really ever set a goal and doesn't intend to? Share with me in the comments below.

Ask Helen: a reader question about working hard

[N.B.: Today's "Ask Helen" comes from Vanessa Jean of The Goldenrod Chronicles, who didn't actually ask Helen—er, me—this question, but instead posed it to her Substack readers back in January. I asked her if I could answer it here, in my newsletter, and she agreed.]

As a people-pleaser. As a doer. As someone with a Lifetime Achievement Award in achievement. As a someone with some pride. And also as a recovering perfectionist:

HOW HARD ARE WE SUPPOSED TO WORK?

I am not asking ‘what is the bare minimum one must achieve’ in order to keep a job. I just mean, like—how much effort and with what intensity and how hard should one work?

Dear Vanessa,

I've got a short answer and a long answer for you. The short answer takes your question at face value, while the long answer pokes at it—not in an effort to invalidate what you're asking, but more to draw your attention to the innocent but insidious assumptions and efficiencies that the mind makes in posing such a question in the first place.

THE SHORT ANSWER

One ought to work however hard they want, knowing and appreciating that 1. their ability and/or inclination to 'work hard' is entirely dependent on a series of variables that are constantly changing and not even mostly controllable, and 2. there is no rubric for measuring such a thing.

THE LONG ANSWER

Okay, buckle up. I'm going to break apart your question and analyze it somewhat philosophically, with the aim of getting to the heart of it—and what I suspect is your underlying concern.

“How hard”

What is 'hard'?

Does it mean diligent and singularly focused? Or punishing and arduous?

Does it mean hours spent? Calories burned? Number of personal needs forgone?

Does it mean you need to lose yourself in the task at hand? Or count down the minutes until it's over?

Your mind might try to sweep away all these questions by saying, Oh, she's just splitting hairs! She knows what you mean! Everyone knows what it means to work hard!

And I would respond, "How convenient, Vanessa's mind, that you're choosing such a nebulous and unquantifiable word by which to measure Vanessa's efforts!"

This is how minds often operate. They tell us we're not working hard enough, but they're unable to clearly and consistently define what 'hard' means.

"are we"

Who is 'we'? All of humankind?

And can we really group everyone together like that and use the same metric for effort? Is there such thing as one-size-fits-all when it comes to working hard?

Or does 'we' include only those people who have crossed a certain educational threshold? Maybe people who are of similar intellectual ability?

Is 'we' only those who have specific financial needs? What about folks with particular goals or career aspirations versus those who have none, or folks who are inherently talented in some area versus those who are pursuing something that doesn't come naturally to them?

Even if you changed "are we" to "am I," as in, "How hard am I supposed to work?" many questions would remain. I'd want to know, compared to what, compared to whom?

The mind that groups us all together and poses a question about a general 'we' is, somehow, the same mind that will compare us unfavorably to others in one instance and convinces us we've worked harder than our lazy coworker in another. The mind is full of contradictions!

"supposed to"

According to whom? Who is measuring or judging? Whose standard is this? Who is the voice behind this phrase, 'supposed to'? And who could really tell, one way or the other, if you're fulfilling this ill-defined standard?

Your mind will try to fight me on this (it will probably find some really good examples to counter the following statements, but that doesn't change their truthfulness):

There is no such thing as 'supposed to'. There are no adults in the building, no true authority figures, no universal rules governing work, no best practices, no rubrics or measuring sticks, no moral imperatives. None of it exists.

All that exists is what is. 'Supposed to' implies there's a way it should be going...which isn't reality. (Reality is what's actually happening.)

If you were asking your question about this exact moment, I'd want to know what your energy is like in this exact moment—and by the time you answered, it would be a different moment, and your energy would have likely fluctuated—so, how hard you could have worked in that past moment would've depended on (among other factors) your energy level in that moment. And since your energy is an ever-changing variable, the 'hardness' of your work efforts are correspondingly dynamic.

It's all in flux. All the time. No exceptions. Change is the only constant.

Very innocently, the mind creates a set of rules (in an effort to keep you safe—a totally loving gesture, but misguided!) and then operates from that set of rules as though it's universally-recognized law. As though the very same mind isn't the source of those rules in the first place. 'Supposed to' is a telltale sign that the mind is holding you to something that feels really real...but that's actually of the mind's own creation.

"work?"

Are you referring to paid work? Does unpaid work count, too? What about underpaid work? And how about overpaid work? Does this question apply to folks who work in a volunteer capacity?

Does 'work' include work that feels more like play, regardless of pay?

Does it include illegal work?

Are all forms of 'work' created equal? Even if everyone's abilities were equal, would all kinds of work merit the same level of effort?

The mind oversimplifies. It uses a blanket term such as 'work' for something that's actually far more complicated, because it isn't interested in details; it's a thinking machine, striving for efficiency. It equates your work with the work of all people in the world, as though it's all the same and there's a single, morally-supported standard of effort—with a rubric for measuring said effort. The mind is incredibly reductive. It doesn't win any awards for nuance.

What I think you might really be asking

I suspect your mind has thought up such a question because, at some point, it wanted a concrete measurement by which to gauge your personal efforts. It wanted to compare (minds love to compare), it wanted some certainty (minds loooove certainty—even if it *is* always the illusion of such), and it wanted to keep you in check (minds love to manage us and maintain the status quo).

You see how this is, very likely, just a habituated thought, right? As I hope to have proved above, a mind can only ask this question if it conveniently bypasses specificity and accuracy. And then a mind sustains this kind of question by asking it often enough (or by alluding to such a vague metric as 'hard') so as to make it feel familiar and, therefore, legitimate.

Just because your mind is asking this question doesn't mean it's something you, Vanessa, really want to know. Or that you even believe it's something you could know. It might just be a question your mind has posed before (many times before), and you're accustomed to taking it seriously, actually giving it some airtime in your head, and trying to solve it once and for all.

But underneath this cleverly-worded question that your mind cooked up ages ago is, I think, a desire to be the authority of your own life.

Am I okay with not working myself to death? Am I okay with not working as hard as I might’ve worked in the past? Am I okay with not working as hard as some part of me believes I should work? Am I okay with not working as hard as I sometimes believe I'm capable of working? Am I okay with the fact that life feels easier for me when I'm not holding myself to some arbitrary and purely imaginary standards of effort and toil and devotion to doing? Am I okay with just being; showing up at my job, doing the things I agreed to do, getting paid, and returning to the rest of my life?

Your mind has made it seem like a legitimate question to outsource (this is something all minds do)—when, really, it's another case of an inside job.

Are you comfortable working however you want to work in any given moment? And, if you're not comfortable, can you welcome those uncomfortable feelings, and let them hang out a while until they shift? (They will shift; they always shift.)

I hope this helps!

Love,
Helen

A how-to potpourri

How to stop feeling overwhelmed

STOP SAYING YOU ARE.

Seriously. Stop labeling that feeling you're having about your situation.

Once you attach a label, you make it this Whole Thing; you solidify it and take ownership over it and it becomes who and how you are. You continue to collect evidence to support it and the feeling grows.

We love labeling things.

"I'm anxious," we say.

"I'm a chronic procrastinator."

"I have an addictive personality."

We give a name to it and it becomes part of our identity. And once we see it as part of our identity, it's infinitely harder for us to show up fresh to each moment.

"I'm overwhelmed" is no different.

Don't claim it for your own.

Instead of seeing the mess of things that need your attention and feeling any which way about it (after all, feeling is highly irrelevant in these situations), ask yourself, What needs to be done? And then do that—just one thing at a time, knowing that you're not effective or efficient when you're unfocused.

How to better handle your problems

It always helps if we first understand that problems don't have to be problematic.

Shift your perspective.

Instead of seeing a problem as an upsetting inconvenience or as something that shouldn't happen, decide right now that problems are going to occur and there's nothing wrong with that.

When a problem arises, avoid the temptation to catastrophize. (This kind of pattern-interruption takes practice, so don't expect to remedy it instantly.)

Adopt the go-to response: What action can I take? Or, What needs to happen here?

Be on the lookout for a partial solution. Resist the all-or-nothing game since it's likely to keep you mired in the problem for far longer than is necessary or desirable.

Finally, consider ways to convert the problem into a project. As the brilliant coach Steve Chandler writes: "A project is a lot more fun, emotionally. A person can have a favorite project. A person will never have a favorite problem. Words carry emotional histories" (Time Warrior, 60).

How to improve at anything

Give it more of your time and attention.

It's not more complicated than that, though we often make it so.

How to find your purpose

Spoiler alert: We all have the same purpose.

The purpose of a human BEING is to EXIST. That's it.

None of us did anything to get here, so how could it be that there's some singular purpose that each of us has to magically discover and then fulfill in our lifetimes?

If what you're curious about is what you ought to be doing with your life, try coming at it from a different angle. Instead of asking, What's my purpose?, try asking, What am I on a mission to do?

The great thing about the latter is: Missions can change! You might be on one particular mission at this point in your life—and, at a future juncture, perhaps in a different season of life, you might choose an entirely different mission for yourself.

Missions leave room to grow.

In other words, you get to conjure up that drive to do something. Being on a mission is a supremely active, engaged, and empowering way of relating to what you can do with you life. You don't have to wait for anything to reveal itself to you, and you don't have to tirelessly quest after some mysterious and often elusive calling that may or may not suit you in a few years' time.

The main ingredient in every successful client is...

WILLINGNESS

That's right. The main ingredient in every successful client of mine is willingness.

It's what I'm looking for from the word 'go,' before a client actually becomes a client. I'm gauging a person's willingness from our very first interaction, all the way through our initial coaching conversation, and oftentimes well into our coaching relationship.

Sometimes I even test a client's willingness by proposing an edgy challenge or giving an assignment that borders on the absurd.

I don't secretly enjoy anyone's discomfort! What I do enjoy, however, is helping a client see where there's room for them to grow. Where they might be unknowingly locked into a way of doing or being. Where they can become even more willing—and not just in deed, but in spirit.

Why willingness?

Well, without willingness, we don't have a coaching program—we have a tug-of-war. And tug-of-war isn't cute on anyone except a toddler. (Even then, 'cute' can be a bit of an overstatement. IYKYK.) But toddlers always get a pass when it comes to this; they're pretty much wired to resist any and all efforts to push or pull them along.

So, then: What do I mean by willingness, in the context of coaching?

I see it as a kind of flexibility. An openness to new thinking. Being receptive to suggestions and welcoming help when it's offered.

Willingness has movement. It tries one thing today, because that’s what the occasion calls for—and then it tries something else tomorrow, if that’s what’s needed.

It doesn't stay put; never digs its heels in (or if it does, it's willing to examine why that was the default reaction).

Willingness knows it doesn't know everything. Willingness is open to the fact that it might even know nothing!

It doesn’t need to prove itself or be right. No, it won't let ego get in the way like that (in fact, it pretty much drops ego altogether, knowing that ego can’t help but get in the way).

Willingness has an easy curiosity to it; it can show up playfully, with a light heart. Willingness embraces experimentation as a necessary part of the process.

Don’t get me wrong: Willingness can get frustrated. Willingness is no stranger to disappointment. Willingness is not always (or even often) easy to maintain.

But willingness stays in the game, no matter what.

My very best, most successful clients are willing, time and again, to become whomever they need to be to go after and get whatever it is they want.

Some questions for you to consider

Whether or not you're thinking of working with a coach, you can ask yourself all kinds of questions to get a sense of your own willingness. Call to mind a specific situation—a problem, a place of stuckness—and see what comes up when you work through this line of inquiry.

Are you willing…

• to think about it (whatever your "it" is) differently?

• to do it differently?

• to be wrong?

• to rewrite an old pattern?

• to not have all the answers?

• to ask more questions?

• to do it badly?

• to tell on yourself when you're not feeling particularly willing?

• to give it everything you've got?

• to see yourself in a new way?

• to change?

• to expect nothing?

• to be uncomfortable?

• to keep trying?

• to drop your stories about how life is, how you are, how "they" are?

What do you think?

Are you surprised to learn that willingness is the only truly essential trait in a coaching client? Drop me a comment below and let's discuss.

Ask Helen: a reader question about rest

Dear Helen,

I’m asking permission to take a nap during the day—is that okay? I find it very difficult to allow myself to do this, even when I feel it would be the best thing for me. It feels like “cheating” or “playing hooky,” especially if I’m really busy.

Thank you!
Sleepy

Dear Sleepy,

Not only do you have my permission (which you don't need, though I'm happy to give it), but you have my urging to take a nap whenever you're tired.

Naps are one of the great pleasures of life. They give us an opportunity for reset. A pause. A timely rest. A second wind.

And the gentle clarity and pervasive sense of well-being that can follow a good nap? Unparalleled, in my experience.

But you know all this. Your body knows all this. It's why you're craving a nap in the first place.

The problem, then, is that you're getting in your own way with your thinking. You're trying to talk yourself out of a nap because you have an idea of what you 'should' or 'shouldn't' be doing with your time when you're supremely busy. You have a story about what it would mean for you or about you if you allowed yourself to nap in the middle of the day, when your to-do list is long and urgent.

So, let me pose a few questions I might ask you if we were in a coaching session together:

• Why does it feel like cheating to take care of yourself?

• Do you see a way in which napping could actually set you up for success to tackle your work?

• Are there any true downsides to napping when you're really busy? If so, can you live with them? Alternately, can you trust yourself to deal with them, post-nap, if they're really troublesome?

I wonder if napping feels like a slippery slope to you—like, if you give in and rest, you might never want to get out of bed again. You might spend your days napping endlessly and shirking all your responsibilities. And what if, deep down, you're really just someone who wants to be horizontal 24/7, and succumbing to this temptation would mean descending into the depths of sloth, from which you can never return?!

I know this sounds hyperbolic and maybe even like I'm teasing you (I'm not, I promise), but I suspect there's an element of this concern behind your question.

My dear Sleepy, let me assure you: Napping doesn't work like that. Nothing does! We're self-correcting creatures.

We might create a habit that feels difficult to break, but once we wake up to the ways in which the habit is no longer serving us, we're free to change—and we often do change, just like that. Without too much fanfare or labor, we adjust. Recalibrate. Life rolls on.

If napping became truly problematic for you, you'd know. You'd see its effects on your life (I have a hard time imagining anything but positive effects, but I want to follow your concern all the way here, so stick with me), and you'd know it's time to reevaluate your habit. You wouldn't continue to stay in bed all day, every day, while your life crumbled around you. You'd take action. You'd find the balance once again. Life would roll on.

Listen to your body, Sleepy. Give yourself a nap when you need it, and get out of bed when you know it's time to resume your day.

You have infinite wisdom beyond all those chatty, concerned thoughts—and you don't have to do anything to access it other than let your mind settle.

I hope this helps!

Love,
Helen