Hey there,

Before we dive into today's idea: a quick recap of Medium Day last Saturday.

First off, thanks to everyone who attended my sessions! If you missed my sessions (or any other sessions you planned to attend), you can catch up on them out here. (If this link doesn't work, don't worry; I'll soon receive recordings accessible to everyone.)

I remember feeling so nervous before my first talk. So nervous, in fact, that my vision went dark and my heart overclocked. But why? I had prepared all my talks and had been writing about the topics for years. Here was an opportunity to talk about something I'd felt genuinely excited about. And yet, for a short time, I even thought about canceling the whole shebang and returning to the comfort of the written word, silence, blankets.

I think the fear stemmed from getting exposed. Or, more accurately: not being as good as I could be. FOMP: fear of missing potential. It may sound big-headed, but I knew I was an expert on these topics. My expertise wasn't the problem. The real problem was an imaginary incapacity to convey my expertise. I was sure someone would call me out, "Ha! I knew you'd be just as fake as your articles."

Of course, that didn't happen.

Once the tiny LED of my webcam lit up, knowing that dozens of people were quietly watching me behind their screens, I somehow got through it. I didn't blackout, the audience was overwhelmingly nice, and I almost didn't have technical issues.

It was much like taking an ice bath. Every cell in your body screams not to get in there, but then you jump, and -- bam! -- there's that initial gut-punch panic. But after some time, you adjust, knowing you can do it. And when you get out, you feel energized. Awake. Alive.

Anyway, this brings me to an idea I've thought about for quite some time now. Getting what you don't want, wanting what you don't need, and wanting to want what you need.

I'll explain.

Don't get what you want

One month ago, I was suddenly convinced that my current situation wasn't good enough. I decided that I needed to accelerate my writing career, make more money, gain more experience, and be more productive.

What I didn't know yet: I didn't actually need these things. I just wanted them.

And so, I went hunting for jobs like a hyperactive cat chasing mice. It started off alright. I applied to jobs that would genuinely help me flourish -- not just as a writer but also as a person. First, I applied for an editorial assistant position for Oliver Burkeman -- author of Four Thousand Weeks. Next, I applied for a content writer position for Ali Abdaal (YouTuber and productivity mogul). One rejected me. The other never got back to me.

I became more desperate.

I sent applications for everything that seemed remotely viable. Garbage man? Bring it on. Marketer? I'll sell my soul, but who cares. Working in a call center? It'll help me get more confident.

All I knew was that I wanted another job. What I didn't know was if I actually wanted what I wanted.

This messy application concert crescendoed in a job interview in which the interviewer seemed more concerned with going through their list of frumpy questions than finding out if I was a genuine fit for the job. (Can you name the three most important features of customer service? How do you cope with stress?) When I asked about the pay, it was marginally above minimum wage. Yikes. But hey, I wanted this job. So I told them the "inspiring" work environment would compensate for the low pay.

"You seem like a good fit," they told me at the end. "We'll get in touch with you next week."

I never heard from them again. Worse, the other companies I applied to never got back to me. Not even the garbage company.

In other words, I didn't get what I wanted.

It'd be a neat lie to say this didn't affect me. Of course, I felt disappointed. Frustrated. Doubtful about my identity and abilities.

But as the weeks passed, I came to see the rejections as a blessing. It made me see my life in a new light, much like a bad vacation can help you appreciate your trusted home once again.

In fact, the more I get rejected and disappointed, the more I'm convinced that silver linings are a natural symptom of not getting what we want. Why? Because it provokes a vital question for everything we do in life:

"Do I actually want this?"

See, lots of our wanting impulses are just cravings to satisfy our monkey mind or desires we adopted from a pathological society. Sure, I want fast food or candy when I see it, but I don't want to want it. Likewise, I might want to earn more money or get a new job, so I can brag to others about my productivity and value on the "market." But are these fake goals actually the best use of the time I'm given?

Not getting what we want is like a bullshit test. If we truly want something (that is, we want to want it), we'll try again -- no matter how often we get rejected or how frustrating the task might seem. This bullshit test is partly how I know that I want to keep writing and expressing ideas: even after thousands of hours "wasted" on articles that nobody read, I still feel the drive to show up. Write. Hit publish.

Conversely, when we don't get something we want and lose interest soon after, there's a good chance we didn't actually want it. If that's the case, we're invited to return to the drawing board and figure out what we actually want to pursue. And perhaps, we'll find that we don't always need to want stuff, chase milestones, reach goals.

This whole process of adding another layer to our wants is more complex and challenging than simply following our animalistic and societal urges. But we can hardly say we live freely and intentionally if we don't take this extra step of questioning our wants.

As it turned out, I didn't actually want that extra job. I had pursued it out of the feeling I wasn't good enough and an obsession for more. More work, more money, more stress. In this sense, I'm glad I got rejected. I'm relieved that I didn't get what I wanted because I didn't want to want it.

Answering the question of what we actually want may take a lifetime of trying different things and seeing what sticks. But rejection, failure, and disappointment help us get there. Paradoxically, not getting what we want can show us what we really want.

Until next time,

Stephan

Thanks for reading! To respond, just hit reply. I love getting questions, feedback, and comments, and they're (by far) my biggest motivators to keep writing this newsletter. If you know someone who'd enjoy this email, simply forward it (or share this link: [ARCHIVE URL GOES HERE]).