Goldilocks and the Three Bears

Another Stab at Motivation

My first of three elementary schools had half-day administrators. Third-grade mornings were with the afternoon principal, and afternoons with a first-year teacher. I had enough teachers by then to discover if I didn't like the teacher, classes were challenging, and I did not do well. If I enjoyed the teacher, the course was easy, I had fun, and I got A's. In third grade, I figured out how to change how I liked a teacher. Once I found one thing, I found more. Just looking made class fun for me, and school was more effortless. In reframing that time, I had a goal to like the teacher. Grades were not even part of the equation.

Sixth grade, the third school I attended, in a new town, added to my understanding of goals. It is bad form to ask your classmates where they live. Only new kids would ask, and demonstrating you are new keeps the tag on longer. Joining the Boy Scouts accidentally provided a way to discover where everyone in my class lived. We sold wreaths and garlands for the troop's events funding. A plan formed on its own to solve where my classmates all lived.

If I visited 25 houses daily after school, it would take six weeks to touch each home in town. The public reason was evident as I wore my scout shirt and kerchief. Somehow, the private reason made the action fun for me. Two goals in sync with each other made the time fly. I often did more than 25 houses each day, spent a couple of Saturdays at it, and finished in five weeks. I knew where all my classmates lived. I accidentally sold more wreaths and garlands than the rest of the troop combined. Two in the troop were upset because I sold a wreath to their parents. A public goal backed up by a secret, private hidden goal became a fun way to operate.

I eventually realized the unintended consequences were attached to the secret goal I kept hidden. Could I manage the unintended consequences? I never brought a school book home. I did all my homework in class and left those books in my locker at school. Written reports I let ferment and grow in my mind until the day before they were due. I write it out the night before, do a revision or two before bed, and complete the task with a final review in the morning. I discovered a key was to remain emotionally unattached to outcomes.

As long as I did the work, what I needed to know on a test often occurred during the moment of taking the test. If I didn't know the answer, I would skip the question to discover the answer later in the test and go back and add the solution. It was a fun game to play. I never studied or crammed for a test. I had done the work, and the answers would be there. I got A's. So what.

In the final semester of senior year, I needed to fail. The last semester doesn't really count, but it does decide things like valedictorian and salutatorian. Even after two years, I was still the new kid in school. I lettered in football, basketball, and track, sang in the choir, played tuba in the band, and enjoyed the speech and debate teams. I did not appear like a brainy kid. Two classmates had been best friends since kindergarten and were always number one and two every year. With a semester to go, I was told I should have a speech prepared for graduation. My goal now was to get straight F's somehow. An F took more work than getting an A. Answering every question on a test with the wrong answer still got me an A+ on tests. "You have to know the answers to get them ALL wrong."

I secured a few B's and one F after handing in A work for the semester to get the F. I did not have to speak at graduation and still shocked some because I was in the top five, the kid most didn't know. Later, attending US Navy schools, I was chastized with "capable of 4.0 and satisfied with 3.2, give him extra attention." I always succeeded at an exam, and school barely prepares anyone for what's real.

What works for me, and what doesn't? Having fun works. Finding how to have fun is often fun enough until it isn't. I can gamify anything for a while, but ultimately, it has to take me where the Spirit wants me to go. Hard work and perseverance, often called grit, appear when I'm having fun. That vehicle runs out of gas fast if the fun evaporates.

Ambition, being recognized by myself, my peers, and my superiors as the best at something, was fun once. As habit or motivation, been there, done that, what's next? Clearly, some people desire power. I have an interest in control over Self, but over anyone or anything else, it does not call me to action. The pursuit of fame as a primary or hidden agenda demotivates me. Money as an incentive fails me every time. I do best with a base salary or draw against commission and then thrive on the adventure.

A track record of success is not calling me to action either. I'd prefer a series of failures, as discovering what does and doesn't work is fun. The ecstasy of a new thought, an insight, will keep me involved for days without sleep or care. Mastery over Self is a game of discovery, revelation, unconcealing, and delight. It has paid me so far. My dad played until he ran out of time in his early 90's.

There is a sweet spot that moves daily: not too hard, not too soft, not too cold, not too hot. I await a path where I am rewarded for being world-class at effortlessness and fun. I can endure making anything fun if I can eventually avoid it, disappear it, or pass it off to someone else.

What motivates you?