When we watch someone do something, we think we can do it too: how hard can it be? But the reality is often very different.
The illusion of competence often equates to confidence. We don’t know what we don’t know.
When someone eats your last Rolo, you feel a totally disproportionate sense of loss. It’s not about the chocolate. It’s about the gap. The narrative was broken.
So, we became wired not just for survival, but for pattern and narrative. We became restless, creative creatures—itchy with the need to make meaning. We drew patterns in the dirt, scratched stories on cave walls, and eventually, designed complex systems, cities, and even shoes that glow in the dark. All of this because our brains, forever uncomfortable with uncertainty, keep asking, What happens next?
There is a very famous film of Picasso painting live. About halfway through creating an effortless masterpiece he says “ Ca va tres mal” (it’s going very badly). Even someone like Picasso struggled to get a painting to go where he wanted it to go. It’s his self-belief, confidence and self-trust that allows him to work through the “bad” stage and experience that tells him that he can make it right. I’m certainly not in that league, but that helped me to understand that I should push through (although sometime you can try too hard and take a sketch too far) and trust my instinct.
I don't think many places in the UK have so much condensed beauty in such a relatively small area as the Cotswolds.
Rituals help us to chain-link one thing to another as we move towards our chosen aim. The structure of routine comforts us, and the uniqueness of our own rituals focuses our attention on our personal goals.
By giving meaning to our routines, we decide where to place our attention and what we care about.