The Power (and Horror) of Choice

Do you suffer from decision paralysis? Whether it's if you should go on that date, which car you should buy, or the next email you should answer, there are a lot of decisions, big and small, that we're faced with daily — sometimes hourly.

I'm reading The Success Principles by Jack Canfield right now, and I recently read a section in the beginning about making definitive choices. Canfield's opening anecdote described attending a workshop where there were different colored notebooks on the chairs for the attendees. Canfield sat at a chair with a yellow notebook on it but immediately wished that he had chosen a chair with a blue notebook. One of the first things the presenter suggested was for people to trade notebooks with somebody else to get the color they wanted.

Not a huge success in the greater scheme of things, but it was the beginning of reclaiming my birthright to acknowledge my preferences and get exactly what I want. Up until then, I would have discounted my preference as petty and not worth acting on. I would have continued to numb out my awareness of what I wanted. That day was a turning point for me—the beginning of allowing myself to know and act on my wants and desires in a much more powerful way.

This story really spoke to me because for as long as I can remember I have shied away from making decisions, yet I am actually very opinionated. When I was offered my current position, my editor asked me where I saw myself fitting in at the magazine over time. I actually said — no lie, "(Blah, blah, blah), I just want to do whatever I can to help." Are you kidding me? What kind of a boneheaded answer is that?

Okay, in my defense, things had moved so quickly that the question had caught me off guard. And, in one way, I really meant it — I don't think that there's a job description in the entire office that I would mind having. But, come on, if you ask me what my dream job would be in that office, I could give you a minimum of two (and probably up to 10) scenarios that are pretty damn specific. Yet, I never even hinted at either. What is that all about?

Depending on the situation, there are many reasons why I have a hard time choosing one option over others: There are too many options and I feel overwhelmed. I'm afraid of appearing too demanding. I'm not really fond of any of the choices. Or the opposite — I flat-out want it all. But most of the time I'm just afraid of making the "wrong" decision. But there are definite consequences to not having — and stating — preferences:

• Sometimes any choice is often better than no choice at all. Given option A or option B, sometimes I feel that if I just let myself be swept along by life, things will fall into place "just like they're supposed to," however that is. Unfortunately, along comes option C or D that either happens by accident or somebody else chooses for me, and I find myself wishing for that time when I had control over an outcome.

• You appear unmotivated, lacking direction. You won't look greedy or presumptuous (unless you're constantly spouting your desires to the exclusion of everybody else) — you'll look like somebody who knows what they want and probably how to get it. I didn't want to tell my editor what my ideal position would look like because it's not what I'm currently doing. It doesn't mean I don't enjoy what I'm doing; I just have other plans for the future. But I felt that I would somehow come across as ungrateful for the opportunity I had been given so far if I had stated those plans then.

• People will eventually stop asking for your opinion. I had a boyfriend that never had an opinion on what we should have for dinner, what movie we should see or which friends to hang out with. After a while, I got sick of hearing, "I don't care," so I just started making plans and letting him know what we would be doing. And eventually I decided that if I was making all the decisions and all the plans, what the hell did I need him for — get it?

There are a couple of things to consider that I think help when you are stuck making a decision:

• Your body knows way more than your brain does when it comes to decision-making. Almost without fail, anytime I've made a horribly wrong decision, my body sent me screaming signals telling me something was up. Anything from an upset stomach to insomnia. Usually, in these cases I wasn't able to logically explain what made me so nervous, but not heeding those feelings bit me in the ass. Unfortunately, it wasn't until recently that I could accept anything other than logic and reasoning as true decision-making skills.

• Flipping a coin really does work. No, I don't believe that you should trust your fate to whether you're staring George Washington in the eye or not. But if you really think you don't have a strong preference for a particular option (preferably when there's only two to choose from), assign one to each side of a coin and let if fly. When you discover the option you've "chosen," if there's any feeling of disappointment, guess what?

That's the part of you that does care, screaming to get out. Let it.

Rise Above the Noise - Book Review

Rise Above the Noise, by Mike Donghia

Last week, I was thinking that I wanted to try writing book reviews — a way to combine two of the things I love to do the most: reading and writing. Two days later, I received a request from a blogger I follow, Mike Donghia of The Art of Minimalism, to review his first ebook, Rise Above the Noise. Crazy how life works, huh?

I don't know Donghia, outside of reading his blog posts over the last several months, and I am not an affiliate for the book (as in, I don't get paid if you buy it), so what I'm offering up is an honest opinion of how the book read.

As you can probably tell from the title of his blog, Donghia blogs on being — and how to be — a minimalist. Rise Above the Noise is a book that brings together the ideas and principles from the blog all in one place. The content is new, the format is new, but the ideas are what Donghia's been writing about since last fall.

The title, Rise Above the Noise, refers to all of the "clutter" that we're bombarded by and that dilute our focus every day: crowded email inboxes, incessant chatter on social media sites, inane entertainment around the clock and too much stuff that we just don't need. Donghia has chosen to turn away from the current consumerist trend and pare his life down to what he considers really important, thus reducing the "noise" that he's exposed to. He seems to be really enjoying his new way of life, and this book (along with his blog) is his way to help others do the same.

On top of wanting to help those of us who buy his book, Donghia wants to help others too. He is selling Rise Above the Noise for $10 USD, and I've just learned that he will be donating 100% of the first week's (increased from the first 48 hours') proceeds to Hope International. Isn't that cool?

What Worked

• It's about more than the number of things you own. This book is about simplifying life and becoming a minimalist, which can mean a lot of things, depending on your definitions. To many, the idea of minimalism has become about counting how many things a person has, but Donghia stresses that it's more about what you do with your life and the quality it has, not the number of things you eject from it.
• There are many relatable examples. When Donghia talks about how important it is to get a restful night's sleep, yet how often he lies awake in bed, his mind buzzing from all the "noise," I feel his pain — literally. Then, a few paragraphs later, he talks about our persistent inability to make choices for fear of what he calls "chooser's remorse." I'm in the middle of writing a post about that right now; I think to myself, is this guy living parts of my life?
• Donghia's not telling people to quit their jobs and travel the world. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I follow several bloggers who have done just that and I think it's awesome. Hell, I want to be them. But for many, the idea is impractical or just unappealing. But here is a guy who is a minimalist as he goes to college and, I imagine, does a lot of things that the traditional college student does. He's showing people how they can simplify their life, maximize their happiness and still live the life they've already created, if that's their choice.
• He offers actionable tips and good resources. I have to admit that when I started the book, I first had the feeling that it was going to be one of those things where the writer keeps telling me what he was going to tell me, yet somehow never actually tells me what he says he's going to tell me. (Yea, barely makes sense to me either.) But Donghia delivers with concrete ideas to create the kind of life that he's making for himself, and shares his three key principles that tie everything together: restraint, responsibility and focus.

At the end, Donghia also suggests some tools that can help someone in their minimalist transition, including a website (his own), a great minimalist handbook and several computer and Web-related applications designed to help you simplify and focus.

 What Didn't

• Long and unclear introduction. As I said, I've been reading Donghia's blog for a few months and, even so, in the beginning I found myself asking, "Just where is this going?" In the first five pages of the book, a lot of different concepts are touched on, from freedom to streams of noise to "time theft" to control issues to the Cookie Monster. 

While I appreciate a Sesame Street reference as much as the next person, it was hard to keep up with Donghia's train of thought far enough to see if it was a ride I even wanted to take. Because I don't like not knowing where I'm going in a book like this (part of my own control issues), I might have stopped reading if it weren't for this review. But once I got through a few more pages, I was in.

Who Would Like This Book

• Somebody who is frustrated with their life but not sure why. I'm sure this book — and, more so, minimalism — isn't the answer everybody is looking for, but I think that somebody who knows they need or want to make a change will appreciate what Donghia is saying and probably be able to take away a few things to use or think about.
• Beginning and wannabe minimalists. I consider myself a member of both these categories, so I should know, right? On one hand, Donghia doesn't necessarily share groundbreaking news, but he really does have some good ideas and he frames them in a way that is making me think differently than I have before.   

In his section, "How to Rise Above the Noise," Donghia talks about "filling the void" when adjusting to new, simpler ways. I've been experiencing a lot of roadbloacks in my own transition attempts, and as I read this advice, I immediately knew that this was my problem. For me, if I got nothing else out of the book (which I did), this one piece of advice was worth it.  

• A younger demographic. Not to say that somebody over the age couldn't appreciate this book (I did), but I think that an under-30 crowd will be able to relate to Donghia better. As someone approaching her mid-forties, I believe that you can learn from people of all ages, and I took away quite a bit from this book. But I admit that there was a part of me that kept thinking that someone so young doesn't understand the very legitimate issues Donghia brings up in the same way that I do.
• Somebody looking for a less extremist approach to minimalism. As I said before, nowhere will this book tell you to sell all but 50 pieces of your worldly possessions and make sure your passport it up-to-date. While Donghia's certainly not the only minimalist who isn't "location independent," it's refreshing to see somebody mixing traditional and non-traditional lifestyle choices and making it work.

Final Thoughts
Bottom line: I liked the book. Not a surprise, since I've been reading Donghia's blog and know that I like both his ideas and his writing.

And it's spurred me to action: I've just reduced my RSS feed by half — down to those who really matter to me, and plan to do the same with my Facebook connections and the people I follow on Twitter this weekend. That's what I can do right now to rise above my own noise.

Once more, I'll say that this book isn't for everybody. But if you're fascinated with the minimalist lifestyle — or are just sick of your own — this could be a book for you. Even if you come away with just one idea you consider really powerful (like filling the void), it could be worth the $10, and (if you buy it by March 10), you'd be helping out a really great cause, too.

To buy and download Rise Above the Noise, click here. And if you do read it, let me know what you think!