Since December is obviously the prime time to visit central Canada, Adam and I are currently in Ontario, visiting relatives and playing in an unseasonably early snowfall, even for these parts. I’m not mad about it—I love the snow. I think I may even have manifested it, and I’m pretty sure that’s what everyone thinks.
This morning, I even got to hand feed chickadees, like a bundled-up, wintry Snow White. Did you know they’re called chickadees because that’s the sound they make? Well, I didn’t and I’m just delighted by this information. I like to think the chickadees were delighted with me, too.
Given that we’re sliding headlong into winter’s frozen pause, I think now’s a good time to talk about the idea of consistency, and what it really means or looks like, because, as per usual, I think we have it a little sideways. I mean, yes, consistency literally means: “unchanging in nature, standard or effect over time,” but I think we might get a little too hung up on the literal meaning, when it comes to our own relationship with consistency, or lack thereof.
For example, as winter arrives (clearly sooner in some parts than others) and we move towards solstice, you might be finding your willpower and motivation to do, well, most things, waning along with the ever-diminishing daylight.
Getting up early when it’s still dark as night to head to the gym might feel a little more daunting. Or, leaving the house for an evening activity, even an activity you normally love to do, might be a little less enticing after getting home from a long day at work, especially since it’s probably dark out by then, too.
I love my dance classes, but I have give myself a little pep talk to go to them, reminding myself that I love them and have fun and am always so glad that I went. It’s not that I don’t want to go to class, I just have inertia when it comes to leaving the cosy, warm house after it’s dark out.
Maybe you, like me, have some projects you swore you’d have completed by the end of this year. And maybe, like me, you’re nowhere near where you thought you’d be on them, for a thousand different reasons. For what it’s worth, if you’re like me, you probably tend to overlook all the progress you’ve made in other places while you focus on the areas you feel behind, though that’s a topic for another day.
When you’re finding that some of your get-up-and-go has gotten up and gone, you might feel guilty, disappointed or frustrated. After all, you should be able to motivate yourself, right? If only you were more disciplined, then you’d be able to be more consistent, and then you’d be succeeding, right?
Well, maybe. But, in my experience, we tend to hold consistency in a way that isn’t particularly sustainable for mere mortals (if I’m one, then so are you). We think consistency looks like doing the exact same thing over and over again, perfectly. And we tend to overestimate what we think we should be accomplishing, consistently over time.
Certainly, there are all kinds of things that require consistency. I mean, when it comes to my toaster, I definitely want consistency to match the literal definition of unchanging standards over time. It’s absolutely helpful to have consistency when it comes to cooking temperatures and thermostats, speedometers and kitchen scales.
But since we’re humans, and not cars or kitchen scales or toasters with automatic settings, it might be worth reevaluating what consistency might look like for a living, breathing mammal with a nervous system, and often a pretty nervous nervous system, at that.
After all, nothing in nature works like clockwork, because nature isn’t a clock. She’s not even on a clock. How could she be? We made clocks up. Even though the seasons consistently change—spring will turn into summer, summer to fall, fall to winter and winter to spring—sometimes, or most times, really, they look a little different, year to year. They look the same on average, and they always get the job done, but the seasons are under no obligation to meet the dates we mark on our calendars.
That’s why we have unseasonably early snowfalls, or bulbs shooting up a little sooner than last year, or tomatoes that take longer than last summer’s. The trees will change and drop their leaves, but because the conditions that cause those changes are also subject to change, we can’t know or predict exactly when that will be.
Arctic foxes and arctic hares don’t change their coats overnight like I do when I swap out my lighter jackets for my winter parka; they respond to their environments as the seasons change, when the seasons change, not when they should have changed. It wouldn’t be very helpful for either of them to be wearing snowy white when it’s still all green and brown outside.
So, what if we looked at consistency the same way? How differently might consistency look with a little grace and compassion and humanity, and honouring what the season brings and what we need in this season? Not just the season of the year, but the season of life we find ourselves in, which might change even day to day.
What if consistency didn’t look like militant, precision-based expectations of routine perfectionism, and instead met us where we actually are?
How often do you end up in an all-or-nothing game with yourself, taking no action because some action wouldn’t be enough? How often do you find yourself feeling like you just can’t get on top of your to-do list, or make enough progress on your projects and goals, because you’re not devoting 2 hours each day to moving it forward?
If fifteen minutes feels like a failure because you meant to spend an hour, you’re probably more likely to skip it, and this is where the real inconsistency comes in. Breaking a chain of action makes getting back into action even harder. Not only have you slowed down your progress, but beating yourself up about your lack of consistency adds weight to your inertia.
Guilt and shame are heavy loads to bear, period, but especially when you’re trying to move forward. What if consistency had less to do with your expectation that you should be able to show up exactly the same way every day, and more to do with showing up every day with what is actually available that day, instead?
What if consistency meant understanding that rest and recovery are actually essential components for human progress, and that including them in your plans, along with variable, realistic milestones, would create more real and sustainable progress over time?
What if consistency meant that in wintertime, dedicated action might look different than in summertime? It does in Nature, and we are Nature, after all.
Now, obviously, if I’m consistently listening to my body, taking action accordingly, and I’m not making enough progress, I might want to either reexamine my timeline, or take a look at what underlying factors are impacting my performance (not “performance” like perfection, but simply my intended results and experience of life). I have support in my life to help me do just that. This is what coaches do.
Making changes can be hard, but it’s much harder when you don’t think change is allowed. Maybe I need to get exercise earlier in the day, because I lose my motivation when the sun sets so early. Or maybe I realize that in winter, I actually like getting up early to work on my book while it’s quiet and dark, but in order to get up earlier, I’ll need to head to bed earlier the night before.
Maybe consistency looks like understanding that today, I only have a half-tank in me, so doing a fifteen-minute workout is better than no workout at all. Or maybe, and this is hard for driven people used to pushing through resistance, I realize that I’m feeling a little fatigued, and I need a day/weekend/week off of working out/working on my project, and I’m going to empower the heck out of my break, so that I can come back refreshed, invigorated and excited to jump back in, instead of burnt out, uninspired and disempowered by what once excited me.
There’s no sense in taking a break if you’re just going to make yourself wrong for it.
I’m not saying that we can never change our minds, but I am saying that if you tend to start a lot of things, but don’t finish them, or change your mind a lot, questioning your commitments, it might be worth taking a look at how you’re holding consistency. Being militant about things generally only works in the military, and even then, I’m not so sure it’s incredibly effective.
Consistency for plants means watering them when they need it, not on your calendar alarm. I’ve heard it said that humans are just houseplants with emotions, so consistency for humans means paying attention to what energy you have available today, and using it accordingly.
We all (hopefully) know that we can’t pour from an empty cup.
Human and humane consistency (consistency with compassion) means doing our best to show up in some way, even if what’s available in today’s cup looks different than yesterday’s, or different than what we think should be or wish could be in our cup.
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