10,000 to Remember Who You Are

This week as I was driving my feral child to day care, I popped on an Audible to drown out another rendition of Wheels on The Bus … and I happened upon Malcolm Gladwel’s Outliers.

(Sidebar: this has been on my list to read for years and it is not disappointing!)

But anyway, he reminded me something I have always been fascinated with: Did you know that studies show that you only need 10,000 hours to become a master at something? For context, that's roughly ten years.

Yes, ten years to master anything.

Ten years to master Japanese.

Ten years to play the violin.

Ten years to decode British politics.

Ten years to become a world-class baker.

I can already hear you protesting that, sure, practice might make perfect, but in order to be a master, an expert, you obviously need innate talent first.

Wanna know what's banana pancakes?

Overwhelmingly, that isn’t actually the case.

I’ll spare you all the fascinating details (second plug to read Gladwell!), but here’s what I want this to mean for you: if you can become a master chess player in 10,000 hours, imagine what could happen if you gave yourself just a few hours a week?

And no…this isn’t me telling you to log more workouts or trade Instagram for a stack of self-help books.

What I’m pitching is this: take a few hours a week and 

let yourself be positively too f*cking much.

Hours where you rip off your bra, let down your hair, and stop being someone’s mother or someone’s employee or someone’s boss or someone’s partner or the sum of your life story…

Hours where you slam the door on expectations, silence the chorus of opinions, and finally turn back to yourself.

Warning: these hours won’t look polished.

They won’t smell like lavender candles.

They might be messy. They might be ugly. 

They might be raw.

But, the practice here isn’t mastery.

Nah, girl.

It’s remembering.

Remembering the girl who loved to dance before someone told her she had two left feet.

The lady who loved the job before her terrible boss squashed the passion out of it.

The woman who swore like a sailor before someone told her it wasn't “ladylike.”

The goddess who who didn't think to question her worth until someone informed her that wanting money was unattractive.

My invitation to you is this: become an expert at remembering her.

Her who laughed without worrying if she had a double chin.

Her who didn't always share.

Her who didn't pride herself in “managing stress”.

I’m pausing all programming right now, because something bigger is coming. But if you’re ready to trade in a few hours a week for the wild work of undoing, unmasking, and unhinging, I urge you to stay close.

We’re not just about to change your life.

We’re about to change the world.