When doing something is actually easier than not doing it

Have you ever noticed that animated characters always wear the same outfit in every episode?

This pattern captured my imagination a child. A cartoon’s sense of consistency deeply satisfied my sense of order. It fit my personality as a kid who like predictability, routine and discipline.

I remember thinking, wow, does Bart Simpson just have closet full of blue shorts and red shirts for every day of the week? Amazing. That’s gonna be me someday.

I also remember during art class one day, our teacher unraveled the comic mystery to us. He explained how cartooning was this very time intensive art form, and giving characters a standard look saved a lot of effort on the part of the animators.

This meant artists didn’t have to waste any time deciding how to dress the character in the next episode. They could focus on the story instead.

This consistency was especially popular in cartoon franchises that had a heavy merchandising tie in. Toy companies had to maximize the resemblance between the characters and their action figure counterparts so they could sell products to kids like me. And rotating and varied wardrobe would mess the whole enterprise up.

Guess it’s blue shorts and red shirts forever.

Looking back on my childhood obsession with cartoons, it’s interesting to note how applicable those animation lessons are to my adult life. Because for me, it’s all about using constraints to conserve effort, unlock discipline, eliminate decisions, prevent excuses, increase freedom and optimize expression.

Think of it as operational scaffolding.

Commitment is the constraint that sets me free. If I can reach the point where doing something is actually easier than not doing it, then I’m usually in a good spot.

This applies to everything from making art to working out to practicing meditation to staying inspired to doing chores to keeping in touch with friends. My life is essentially a succession of daily practices serving multiple life purposes.

And it’s funny, we’ve always been told that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. But in my life, that’s precisely what keeps me sane. A commitment to seek what’s fresh, spontaneous and interesting in the same place I looked for it yesterday, that’s the joy.

Regardless of fickle forces like mood, intention, desire, motivation or environment, I merely show up and see what kind of energy I have today. And whatever happens, happens. I get what I get.

There’s no need to judge myself for the outcome, or lack thereof. All I can do is trust that my love of the process will create a feeling that will last until the next day when I get to show up and do the work again.

Godin explored commitment through constraint in his bestselling book on shipping creative work:

Tomorrow morning when you wake up, you probably won’t feel like engaging in the practice, and if you do, you probably won’t feel that way the next day. What you do is decide. You decide that you’re a runner, and runners go running every day. And that decision lightens the cognitive load so much because there’s no time or reason to negotiate with yourself because you already had the meeting. You already decided. Now the question is not, should you go or not. The question is, should you go left or right. But you’re still going.

What have you already decided about yourself? Are you willing to show up at the same place, every day and play the long term statistical averages of the process?

If so, then you’ll learn to use daily momentum to keep yourself from feeling detached from the process. The constraints will conserve effort, unlock discipline, eliminate decisions, prevent excuses, increase freedom and optimize expression. A

nd just like the animators, you won’t have to waste any time deciding how to dress the character in the next episode.

You can just focus on the story instead.

How does the operational scaffolding of your daily practice increase your chances of living as you would like to live?