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Nassim Nicholas Taleb shares a helpful rule in his book, Skin in the Game.

“Anything you do to optimize your work, cut some corners, or squeeze more ‘efficiency’ out of it (and out of your life) will eventually make you dislike it.”

Taleb summarised a feeling I’ve often had, but haven’t been able to articulate.

Last year I started doing stretching and mobility exercises each morning. It should take about 20 minutes, but when I tried to condense the exercises into 15 minutes, I felt sick of them after 2 weeks.

After reading this idea, though, I put no time limit on my next session. It took 27 minutes to get through all the stretches, but I felt amazing at the end of it. The slower pace allowed by body to get the most of of the exercises.

For the activities that we do for our mind, bodies, and the home, perhaps its worth trying to take the foot off the gas and move at a slightly slower pace. Maybe we’ll end up loving something that used to feel like a chore.

Note: This is the first post in a weekly series called ‘Seneca Sundays’. Seneca’s writing is as profound as it is practical, and his timeless wisdom should be sipped and savoured, rather than gulped down. So, each week I’m going to reflect on one of his ‘Moral Letters to Lucilius’, and summarise the most practical and useful principles to share with you.

This weekly series is an experiment. I may get through all 124 letters, or it may end after a few weeks. What I do know is I welcome yours thoughts, feedback, and suggestions along the way.

Finally, I must say, I’m not a scholar, nor am I an academic. I’m simply curious about how Seneca’s principles—written almost 2,000 years ago—can help us live a better life. I’ll make mistakes along the way, and I trust that’s just part of the journey. So keep me honest, dear reader.

Why start with Letter #2?

I’m not going to write about the letters in sequential order. I’m going to let my curiosity lead, because it’s more fun that way. However, I’m starting with Letter #2 because it kicked off this whole idea.

In this letter, Seneca implores his friend and Sicilian Governor, Lucilius, to “stick to a limited number of master thinkers” rather than flit from book to book. It was this idea that inspired me to digest one of Seneca’s letters each week, instead of racing through them all and missing out on all they have to offer.

So, here we go.

1. Reading many books is a distraction

Just like when a plant is moved too often, it cannot grow strong. Or when one travels too much, they’ll have many acquiantances, but few friends. We lose out on real depth and quality of learning when we jump from book to book.

“Everywhere means nowhere.”

Seneca also suggests we stick to “standard authors” because there are too many books for us to read. I smiled at this: the paradox of choice also existed in Ancient Rome—1,400 years before the invention of the Gutenberg press.

2. Stick to a limited number of master thinkers, and digest their work

There are two parts to this piece of advice.

Firstly, there are only a limited number of “master thinkers”, and even then, we only have time for a select few. So we must choose carefully. My personal approach is to stick to a) the basic ideas, b) the big ideas, c) in the main disciplines, and d) to ideas that are practical and helpful in daily life.

Secondly, once we’ve decided the “who”, we need to actively, slowly, and deliberately digest their work. As Mortimer J. Adler puts it, “using nothing other than the words, lift ourselves from knowing less to knowing more.” It takes time, effort, and persistence to deeply understand the words of a master.

3. Claim something for yourself

From the many things we read, “claim a part of yourself.”

Wrestle with the words, underline, make notes in the margin. Refine and whittle down the key points until there is something clear, simple, and memorable for you to claim for your own.

Seneca goes on to say, “Each day, acquire something that will fortify you against poverty.”

We shouldn’t focus on monetary or material wealth here, but rather ask ourselves: what can we learn today that will help us build a sound mind, a health body, and a loving home?

4. What is enough?

“It’s not the person who has too little, but the person who craves more, who is poor… What is the proper limit to wealth? It is, first, to have what is necessary, and second, to have what is enough.”

Here’s to knowing when enough is enough.

It’s normal to dislike uncertainty, disorder, and chaos.

But chaos—as a result of unexpected challenges, setbacks, and even bad luck—is inevitable. It’s part of the natural order of life.

It’s not by accident.

When we embrace that chaos will turn up—no matter how hard we try and avoid it—it helps us build the mindset to fight it. It helps us bring order, structure, and form to the madness.

There have been a few occasions when I’ve gone hiking or kayaking with folks who are much more experienced than I am.

One thing I’ve noticed about them is that when it starts to rain, when the wind picks up, when the path is muddy, or when the temperature is just above freezing, they’re not phased.

With a calm smile, and without a word, they put one foot in front of the other and press on.

When we choose to go on a journey, there is a tax to pay. There’s no point complaining about the wind, rain, mud, and cold—it’s simply part of the journey.

I’ve been thinking a lot about metaphors recently, and this is no exception. The hike is just an example, the tax applies to any journey we choose to go on. From a job, to studying, to a relationship, to life itself.

Since moving to at-home workouts, kettlebells have become the foundational piece of equipment in my strength training programme.

The kettlebell is a double-edged sword, though.

For all their benefits—compact, portable, works a broad range of core and stabiliser muscles—they do have their dangers: dropping a heavy hunk of cast iron can cause damage to humans and property.

So every now and then I refresh my knowledge on kettlebell lifting techniques to minimise the risk of injury. One piece of advice that stood out to me was “always start from the ground up.”

The key idea is to make sure you have complete control over the kettlebell as it moves from the floor, past your knees, and up to your hips. Get the squat and the deadlift movements right before you start incorporating exercises that bring the kettlebell up to your chest, and especially before you starting lifting the kettlebell above your head.

As with strength training, and with kettlebells, starting from the ground up in any new project, endeavour, or venture is to build a foundation that will last, and one that minimises long term risk.

Imagine you’re in a race.

There’s your pace, and then there’s the path.

Your pace may change from minute-to-minute, but as long as you stay on the right path, you’ll eventually reach the finish line.

Although life isn’t a race, it’s a great metaphor for any habit we hope to build, or goal we want to achieve.

It’s easy to focus too much on our pace: how fast am I progressing towards my goal?

When what really matters is simply staying on the right path.

Go too fast, too early, and we’ll run out of steam before the end. Go too fast and we also risk veering off track and losing our way.

Worry less about pace. Care more about being on the right path.

We’ll get there eventually.

“You’re efficient when you do something with minimum waste. And you’re effective when you’re doing the right something.”—Tom DeMarco

I believe most of the challenges in the workplace—my own included—are due to focusing too heavily on the former: improving efficiency.

And that adding more slack into our days, following the 80/20 slow down rule from yesterday’s post, will allow us to be more creative, purposeful, and impactful. By slowing down, we get to spend more time answering the effectiveness question: what is the right thing to do right now?

The 80/20 rule says 80% of the output comes from 20% of the input.

It’s also known as the Pareto Principle, after Vilfredo Pareto, who noticed that 80% of the peas in his garden came from 20% of the pods. He then went on to research how this 80/20 relationship can we found in many other places (e.g., 80% of the work is done by 20% of the employees, 80% of road accidents are caused by 20% of drivers, etc.).

The 80/20 rule is often used to optimise: how do I get the maximum impact for the minimum input?

However, I’ve recently been experimenting with the 80/20 rule as a “slow down” mechanism. What do I mean by this?

When I’m commuting by bike, I usually try get to my destination as quickly as possible, even though I sometimes I get stressed because travelling at higher speeds is more dangerous. Recently, however, I started travelling at 80% of my normal speed. The journey takes a little longer, but the pleasure of the ride increases by an order of magnitude.

Similarly, I now try and stop eating when I’m 80% full—adopting a “never hungry, never full” approach to nutrition. This helps me feel lighter and more alert. And on the odd occasion when I’ve overeaten, I’ve felt horrible and my body has immediately started craving for a more tempered amount.

I’m still a big fan of using the 80/20 principle to optimise, but it’s also a helpful tool to help us slow down and get more enjoyment out of our daily activities.

“Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now, and we will never be here again.”—Homer, The Iliad

In one of the oldest works of western literature—written in circa 800 BC—we find a pithy sentence that still helps put things into perspective today.

It’s a Lindy Line.

A number of you enjoyed my post on optimism earlier this week. So I thought I’d keep the theme going—after all, this blog is about noticing, reflecting, and sharing!

The seeds, when they gathered, all looked down—trying to find a clear patch of soil to settle on.

One, however, looked to the skies.

The others laughed.

“Where will you find a place to grow your roots,” they said.

“You’re destined to fail,” they chided.

The lone seed, against all odds, found a spot, in a gutter, atop an old church.

Again, the other seeds laughed.

“Why are you spending your time in the dirty gutter?”

“There’s no soil up there.”

“You’ll never grow into—or amount to—anything.”

But as the winter days passed, the lone seed put down its roots, committed to its new home, and when spring arrived, it’s flowers came into bloom, and it remarked:

“The view is so much better from up here!”

Photo taken of the lone seed, in the gutter, of the old church, near my home here in London.

I was listening to the news this morning and my stomach sank when I heard the following headline: “US Government backs waiving intellectual property rules on vaccines; pharmaceutical companies oppose.”

After a year of living with the pandemic, seeing the current tragic scenes in India, and knowing developing nations have only vaccinated a tiny fraction of their populations, I couldn’t help but picture pharmaceutical executives scheming to retain their IP and control the production and distribution of vaccines.

I know there is an immense amount of complexity, nuance, and subtext to this debate—and I’m not going to pretend that I understand it—but this feels like a moment when these companies can, and should, put humanity before profits.

Here’s hoping this situation unfolds to give billions around the world better and faster access to much needed vaccines.

A room has 4 walls, but it’s the empty space between them that’s valuable.

A door is only useful if the void it creates allows us to pass between two spaces.

A cup finds its purpose in the hollow space.

There is value in the empty spaces.

It’s a nice reminder to fill our days with less—to allowing for more meaningful, creative, and purposeful thinking.

I write regularly about momentum. I hold it in high regard because I’m a big believer in the value of small, consistent actions adding up over time. In other words, compound interest—not just in finance, but in all areas of life.

But what happens on the days when we don’t feel it, when we’re unwell, when circumstances are out of our control, and we’ve been thrown for a loop?

We should just do what we can.

Without judgement or admonishment for missing the high bar we set for ourselves.

It’s more effective to slow down from a gallop to trot than to fall off the horse altogether.

Momentum matters. Just do what you can. Yesterday ended last night, and tomorrow is a new day.

Optimism is a small fishing line, an inner-city canal, no bait… and a really big net.

Spotted today on my cycle along Regent’s Canal in London.

The Lindy Effect is “a theorised phenomenon by which the future life expectancy of some non-perishable thing, like a technology or an idea, is proportional to its current age.”

Basically, the longer something has survived, it’s also likely to have a longer life expectancy.

Plato. Shakespeare. The Beatles. We can reasonably expect the works of these masters to last well into the future. But in this case, we’d expect Plato to survive a lot longer than the Beatles, and for Shakespeare to fall somewhere in between.

For me, the Lindy effect is super useful when deciding what to read next. To “read a Lindy book” is to read texts that have stood the test of time. Compare that to books on the current New York Times bestseller list, like Matthew McConaughey’s memoir ‘Greenlights’. Sure, McConaughey is a big star now, but his book’s prominence and relevance will eventually wane, and it’ll one day just be noise.

Focusing our limited time and energy on Lindy books, will give us the maximum return on investment in the long run.