Courtesy of INeedToStopSoon.com
“You’re going to screw up and make a mess.”
She was right.
My sister-in-law got in my head.
I had been alone for several days while she and my brother attended a funeral in our hometown, cooking and cleaning and caring for the the dogs without anyone to talk to.
Though I enjoy solitude, extended periods to myself invariably lead my mind to find entertainment in practicing random skills. This time, I settled on the chef’s trick of flipping eggs in the pan.
I’ve watched a lot of Food Network. How hard could it be?
I gave it a shot and got close.
I kept at it. By the sixth or seventh attempt, I could execute the basics with consistency. After that, it would be more remarkable if I failed than if I succeeded. Having added this little party favor to my cooking arsenal, I set about to show it off.
I called for attention.
I set up.
I heard those eight words.
I got nervous.
I flubbed the flip.
The meal ended up as delicious as it would have been, if a little less aesthetically pleasing.
I could only think of how easily I became rattled.
Why does new-found confidence disappear so suddenly?
How many of these little battles do we lose each day?
Our brains light up with a fresh idea and energy surges through us.
Enthusiasm bursts to the surface and we get excited to share our good news.
We tell someone and the reaction deflates us.
We hunch our shoulders in defeat and return where we came from.
We lose focus.
Here’s what happened in the kitchen: I heard her voice just as I readied my wrist for the flip and my concentration vanished. I became aware of the consistency of the egg. I noticed my grip on the pan seemed off.
Was the heat high enough?
Was it too early?
Was the right amount of oil in the pan?
I was thinking about everything but snapping my hand through the motion I knew worked and had performed several times without a hitch.
When adopting a new habit or changing a belief, the margin for error is slim.
Just as with long division and the crossover dribble, development is a conscious process at the start. Every step is measured and done and remeasured and redone until it becomes aut-o-mat-ic.
Such diligence is the difference between “good” and “great” and “exceptional” and “excellent.”
It’s time-consuming and rigorous, for sure, but worth the effort.
In the meantime, we must hold on for dear life to our fragile focus.