Have you ever made a list of goals for your life? Most of us have. I’ve tended to make such lists when I’ve gotten disgusted with myself. When I feel stuck, I pull out a notepad and make a list.
It’s a good thing to make concrete goals and put them onto paper, isn’t it? Sometimes, yes. But I’ve slowly come to realize something about my elaborate plans and goals.
I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I’ve realized lately that I’ve mostly made those lists as a way to make myself feel better — and as a way to avoid having to take action toward what I wanted.
That’s right. My goal-setting has usually been pure fantasy. Wish lists. I might as well have been asking a genie to grant me three wishes.
I don’t have one of those lists in front of me right now, but I wouldn’t share it with you if I did, because all it would do is show you how ineffective I’ve been at pursuing my goals. I’m really good at complaining. I’m pretty good at talking.
But I haven’t been very effective at doing.
I’ve recently realized that there’s plenty of competition in this world to be heard as a complainer or as a talker — but the field for real “doers” is wide open.

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