A Technique for
Deciding When to Say No
Instead of
trying to do everything, figure out what deserves your time and energy
Ina
culture that tends toward the myth of no limits, acknowledging that we can’t do
everything seems restrictive. Our industrial naïveté proudly proclaims that we
have unlimited time, unlimited resources, and unlimited capacity. Our
enlightened progress that emerged in modernism has told us that supply is
infinite, demand is infinite, and we, too, are infinite.
The
desire to escape death seems to have produced a culture that mythologically
posits immortality.
But
those who are honest about death, who have the humility to understand and to
embrace our finitude, are those who just might live rightly in the world as it
actually is.
Essentially,
you can’t do everything—so what should you do? What are you going to focus on?
Despite
our desire to be like gods, we might do better if we accept reality—that we
have limits, that we can’t do everything, and, therefore, that we have to make
decisions about how we are going to fill the only hands we have. Coming to
terms with our own limitations can be difficult, but there are some concepts
and techniques that can help us decide when to say “yes” and when to say “no.”
The law of
two-thirds
In
the world of business, the law of two-thirds offers criteria for decisions
about what will define a product or organization. Essentially, you can’t do
everything so what should you do? What are you going to focus on?
This
concept, when approached with honesty about our limitedness, identifies three
primary elements that are instrumental in the success of a business:
Quality
Speed
Price
In determining what to say ‘yes’ to, you’ve also decided
what to say ‘no’ to.
You
must consider all three, but you can only choose two. For example, a restaurant
wants to have quality and it wants to be fast? Then it is going to be more
expensive. A business desires low prices, but also wants to maintain quality?
Speed is going to be reduced. You want something that is fast and cheap?
Quality will certainly be affected.
In
determining what to say “yes” to, you’ve also decided what to say “no” to. It
is simply impossible to do all three equally well. If you attempt to be
everything, do everything, and choose all the options, you will, in effect,
fail to be or do any of them.
The myth
of juggling
Our
propagation of infinitude—the mythology that we can do everything at once—is
often accepted without question because it exists in the realm of the abstract.
Let’s make it tactile with a physical example: juggling.
Your
body is limited in capability, takes up a limited amount of space, and has a
limited number of parts. A juggler, for example, usually only has two hands
(though I have seen people juggle with fewer hands or just feet). Juggling
requires a person to use the body’s limited parts to control many things at
once. While multiple objects may be tossed into the air, only a certain number
can be held (and therefore focused on) at a given moment.
Our
lives can be compared to juggling. We believe that by learning to juggle a
seemingly infinite number of objects, we become unlimited in our capacity. But
the reality is that you can only focus on a limited number of things at once.
We praise a culture of jugglers, but we fail to acknowledge that while objects
may be flying around in the air, we are only really “holding” what the limited
body is capable of holding.
In
pursuit of juggling more and more, we end up never really holding anything. An
object, a relationship, a focus, or a commitment sits in your palm for only a
brief second before it evaporates from your care and is replaced by the next
thing. You may be in control of all the objects, but you never actually focus
on any of them.
Gardening
offers another good analogy. If you are growing a plant from seed, the cautious
approach—one that increases your chances of a plant ensuing from the
germination process—is to plant multiple seeds together. Once you plant them,
chances are high that at least a couple will sprout.
The
problem we face, in the reality of the physical limits of a plant, is that if
you try to grow multiple seedlings crammed next to each other, none of them
will grow to their potential. They will fight for space, nutrients, light, and
water. Instead of one fully functioning and healthy plant, you will have both
plants, but they will both be diminished, malnourished, and stunted.
In
trying to have it all, you end up with nothing.
In
trying to be unlimited, you fail to achieve what you wanted from the seeds in the
first place.
The
human propensity to try to be everything and do everything actually circumvents
that desire because we end up not fully doing anything.
If
you want that plant to grow, you need to get rid of the other seedlings. You
have to choose your priorities.
A standard
for living
In
order to discern priorities, it might be helpful to first discern what
determines your priorities—the standard that informs how you choose what you
choose.
These
ideals can change over time. In our youth, for example, we may pursue things
that we regret as we grow older. But the cliché that you only have one life,
only get to do this once, offers wisdom that ought to be considered.
Essentially, what do you want to die with?
What
I’ve found is that naming your standard—naming that which you want your
identity to be grounded in—immediately makes some things irrelevant. If your
standard is cultural success and the heroism of modern achievement, then that
will determine what you are going to say yes to. If your standard is health,
love, and meaningful relationships, a certain set of priorities will be
nonnegotiable. If you don’t define a standard for yourself, you will default to
whatever is most accessible. And we usually don’t naturally drift toward our
true desires—we only fulfill them by intentionally being aware of them.
We usually don’t naturally drift toward our true desires — we
only fulfill them by intentionally being aware of them.
Using
the law of two-thirds, the business world has named three helpful standards in speed,
quality, and price. A business has to make decisions about these standards,
which then define its priorities. The standards determine the business’s
identity.
While
quality, speed, and price might not be as relevant to us as individuals, we can
still ask: What do I want to die with? What standards should I prioritize with
my limited time and capacity?
This
is an important question because it will determine your “yes”—and, by default,
what you say no to.
When to
say yes
In
reference to your life, the law of two-thirds is actually about being busy.
The
same that is true of businesses, gardening, and juggling is true of our
schedules and priorities. Our culture runs on the treadmill of constant
productivity—we praise the efficient worker and the person who, in apparent
humility, talks about being so overwhelmed. The fast, chaotic schedule is noble
in our society, but it might also be absurd. In life and in business, when we
try to do multiple things, we never actually do any of them.
Being
busy, then, might just mean a lack of priorities.
It
takes humility, strength, and fortitude to acknowledge your limits.
Weak,
naïve, and disingenuous is the person who wants to appear as if they can do all
while not actually engaging wholeheartedly with anything.
When
you are a part of 18 organizations, and you work two jobs with endless
responsibilities, and you also are an avid duck-racing enthusiast on the side,
and you volunteer your time to a local charity, while also attempting to read a
book a week and be available to help your friends with projects—not to mention
that maybe parenting and marriage are a part of the equation as well… you won’t
be able to do any of these things to their full potential.
There
is room to argue that some people, such as single parents, simply have to take
on more. But, even in this case, it remains true that this person has many
priorities, yet limited hours and energy.
The
question then isn’t, “How am I going to do all of these things?” (You will
never be able to fully do all of them.) The question is, “Which ones am I
actually going to do?”
When
nothing is enough, you give yourself permission to feel as if you are
accomplishing much. You get to enjoy the highlight film of life that our
culture promotes as the successful soul. But it might actually be giving
yourself permission to never have to do any of it.
I have yet to meet someone who has accomplished
everything under the sun and proudly proclaims it was worth it.
I
wonder if the Christian tradition was right in claiming that the achievement of
gaining the whole world will cause you to lose
your soul. Maybe it could be said that in choosing to
have it all, you are choosing to never actually live. I also wonder if some of
us would prefer this—being a cultural hero without any of the drudgery of
investing in anything deeply, getting to feel as if we have defied death and
postured a sense of immortality.
Maybe
the seemingly heroic decision is actually the cheap, easy option. I have yet to
meet someone who is both wildly successful by our rampant cultural standards
and satisfied. I have yet to meet someone who has accomplished and juggled
everything under the sun and proudly proclaims it was worth it.
I
have, however, met folks who accomplished the heroic feat of growing both
seedlings and mourned that they never enjoyed the fruit. I have met folks who
experienced everything under the sun and concluded that it was all akin to
vapor extinguishing the meaning from their lives. I have met people who walked
away burned-out, empty, and yearning to have it all back.
I’ve
also met the wise, seemingly provincial simpleton who is content—who holds the
chosen objects well, who grew one plant and enjoyed its produce, and who
embraced finitude and therefore life.
When
we try to be so many places at once, we aren’t actually anywhere. When we try
to hold everything, we end up holding nothing. When we try to do it all,
despite what societal norms and cultural ideals tell us, we might actually be
failing to do anything. We just might be buried with a full schedule, a list of
accomplishments, and a futile attempt at immortality.
So
what do we do?
We
follow the example of a business wrestling with the law of two-thirds.
What
are the things that you can do well and give your time to fully? What are the
things that you can excel at by selectively focusing on them? What are you
willing to compromise because it would spread you too thin, not allowing you to
thrive in your chosen priorities?
I
find it empowering that Jesus — who,
independent of your religious convictions, seems to have done some pretty good
things — also appears to have believed in focusing on a
few priorities. There are accounts of Jesus being confronted by crowds or
Israeli authorities
questioning what he is doing — saying it
isn’t right, or it isn’t enough according to their expectations. And how does
Jesus respond? He moves on. He lets some things go. He has a few things to do
and he does them. Not everything. A few things.
So
what are the few things you will do?
In
respect to your limited capabilities, what do you want? What standard is
important to you? What goals do you want to be buried with once your life
extinguishes into the universe like vapor and the water rushes the shore to
devour whatever it is you built in the sand? When, as the Jewish book of
Ecclesiastes says, the golden
bowl of life breaks, what will you have held in
that bowl?
We
may want to heed the wise ancient voices that encouraged the meager life of a
few things held poignantly in love.
This
isn’t to say that you can’t have hobbies that aid rest, enjoyment, growth, and
experience — or that you can’t, after determining what
is necessary, take on a role that ensures life and health for those you love.
But it is imperative that we name our intentional priorities and be content
with them — and be willing to let go of what might be working
against those priorities.
What
do you want to hold in your hands? What is the plant you want to grow?
What
seedlings might need to be pulled as a result?
If
your time, energy, and resources are limited, what can you realistically invest
in and be fully present with? If you could be great at only three things that
reflect the standard you hope to take your last breath with, what would they
be?
Say
yes to those things.
And
realize that it will mean saying no to other things.
Tyler Kleeberger
https://medium.com/s/story/the-law-of-two-thirds-cfad7c4d42eb
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