Shortcuts

A shortcut is a path that starts and ends in the same place as another but takes less time to traverse. If it does not start or end at the same place as another path, it is not a shortcut; it is a different path for a different purpose. Productivity and accelerated learning are all about finding shortcuts, ways to get from where you are now to where you want to be in less time. Finding a good shortcut is so gratifying that humans have spent their entire existence seeking them out and are willing to pay handsomely for them – to shortcut the process of finding shortcuts. This insatiable desire fuels all constructive and creative activity and yet it is the source of infinite self-destruction. There is one sinister and ancient shortcut –that is no shortcut at all – that has plagued man for all recorded history, the villain of the oldest story: deception. A lie is not a shortcut; it is a different path for a different purpose, and it leads to misery and self-destruction.

 

Estimated reading time: ~4 Minutes

 

“A man who lies to himself, and believes his own lies, becomes unable to recognize truth, either in himself or in anyone else, and he ends up losing respect for himself and for others. When he has no respect for anyone, he can no longer love, and in him, he yields to his impulses, indulges in the lowest form of pleasure, and behaves in the end like an animal in satisfying his vices. And it all comes from lying — to others and to yourself.” ― Fyodor Dostoyevsky

To Be Real

When I watched Disney’s Pinocchio as a child, I was horrified. Intense depth and darkness peer out from behind the eerie guise of a children’s film and the effect is an absolute nightmare. Pinocchio is Dostoyevsky’s liar, literally descending into the hellscape of “Pleasure Island” and becoming an animal because of his lies. The simple story of a marionette becoming a real boy is anything but simple; it conveys, in radical fashion, timeless and powerful truths. Consider the following excerpt from the transcript.

Fairy: Pinocchio, why didn’t you go to school?

Pinocchio:  School?

Jiminy: Go ahead. Tell her.

Pinocchio:   I was going to school till I met somebody.

Fairy: Met somebody?

Pinocchio:   Yeah. Two big monsters… with big, green eyes […]

Oh! Oh, look! My nose! What’s happened?

Fairy:  Perhaps you haven’t been telling the truth, Pinocchio.

Pinocchio: Perhaps? – Oh, but I have. Every single word! Oh, please, help me. I’m awful sorry.

Fairy:  You see, Pinocchio, a lie keeps growing and growing until it’s as plain as the nose on your face.

Jiminy: She’s right, Pinoke. You better come clean.

Pinocchio: I’ll never lie again… honest, I won’t.

Fairy: I’ll forgive you this once, but remember… a boy who won’t be good might just as well be made of wood.

 

Fortunately, our noses do not grow when we lie. Then again, perhaps it would be better if they did. The fairy is half-right; a lie keeps on growing and growing but, while it always eventually comes to light, it often happens suddenly, causing extraordinary pain and chaos in the process. It is rarely obvious until the precise moment it is uncovered. And this is one of the great dangers of deception. Deception is used to delay consequences. It is, therefore, by nature, impossible to fully appreciate its effects until later, sometimes much, much later. A house built on a lie is not a house, it is a pre-mature sinkhole.

 

One of the most significant moments of my adult life was the moment I admitted that I was a liar. Not that I had told lies in my life, but that I impulsively and pathologically distorted the truth. Without exception, I had always adopted the perspective that was most beneficial to me. All of my memories portrayed a twisted reality in which my intentions were pure and my reasoning inerrant. To expose what I had always known, but never said – even to myself – profoundly changed me. By exposing a lifetime of self-deception, memory-editing, and convenient lapses of understanding, I could finally do what I had never done before: believe, with evidence, in my capacity to tell the whole truth. If I could tell the truth, then maybe I could believe my own deadlines and actually stick to them. If I could tell the truth, then maybe I could believe myself when I claimed that everything would turn out okay. Until you have proven to yourself that you have the capacity for truth, there is no such thing as real deadline, there is no such thing as self-assurance or forgiveness, there is no real respect, there is no real you.

 

If you are trying to improve your life and the lives of those around you, good for you! You have unlimited potential to affect positive change. But be careful when you build this new house that it does not become a sinkhole.

If you are trying to be more productive, to waste less, and to learn faster, that is wise! But be mindful that your shortcuts are shortcuts, not different paths for different purposes.

And if you are trying to become someone new and someone better in the face of the deep darkness, take courage and don’t quit! But above all else, don’t lie to others and especially don’t lie to yourself, or you might just as well be made of wood.

 

If you are ready to stop lying to yourself and take the right kind of shortcuts, start here.