Ben Norris

📖 Started: Digital Minimalism

By Cal Newport

🎥 Stan and Ollie

On healing retreat

🎥 Ralph Breaks the Internet

On healing retreat

📖 Against the Odds: The Life of George Albert Smith

By Mary Jane Woodger

As I posted this morning, I played a racquetball match against myself on Saturday. This morning, I had a rematch.

Again, I thought I would just share the text chain:

Me: Early lead for right hand. First game 11-7. It was closer than the score made it sound though.

Wife: I believe in you, left hand

Me: Holy smokes. Revenge of the left hand. 11-1. And it was up 9-0!

Wife: [Gif of Dwight yelling “Yes, yes, yes!"]

Me: And he pulls it out! Left hand in the third 11-9 to win the match. Boom!

Me: And now I’m sweating like crazy. Tough loss.

Me: 😅

Wife: Way to METABOLIZE

Me: That’s right babe!!

So, yeah, it was pretty epic.

I share my experience coming up with the intro music for my podcast, and the different iterations I went though.

The tale of an epic battle between the incumbent champion and the untested underdog. Good versus evil. Right versus wrong left.

Actually, the story is not nearly as exciting as I made it out to be. I went to the rec center again on Saturday and played racquetball by myself. Years ago, I played in college enough to get pretty good. But, like I said, that was years ago. I played a bit on Monday, and my right arm was so sore (I am right-handed) that I thought I would try using my left arm a bit on Wednesday. I discovered I was almost just as good with my left as I was with my right. Neither was very impressive.

While there on Saturday, I asked a couple college-aged kids waiting outside the next court if one wanted to join me while they waited for their friends. They replied that they were about to start doubles, but they did have a question about the rules for me. As one asked the question, the other started arguing with him, and after standing there for a couple minutes while they argued, I turned and went back into my court alone.

After warming up a bit, I did some drills and then decided to play something of a game to make me run around more. I thought I would just include my text chain with my wife to give you the raw emotion of the situation.

Me: My right hand just beat my left hand in racquetball 11-7. It was a pretty good game though.

Wife: Hahaha! How does it feel to be the best?

Me: Pretty sweet. Also, it was an epic comeback. Left hand was up 7-0, before right hand came back to win.

Wife: [Gif of Gru shouting, “That’s right!]

10 minutes later

Me: Wow, another close one. Right hand 12-10.

Wife: Is the left-hand going to just lay down and take it?

Me: Good question. It came back and was up 10-8, but choked on the serve and right hand came back to win.

Me: The match is over now. The court was reserved at noon, so with two games to zero, right hand wins.

So, yeah. Pretty intense.

There was a funny thing that happened while I was playing. I was in the end court, so there was no one around me, and I felt quite safe in my solitude. I began calling things out, like I might if I was really playing with someone. It started with simple things, such as, “Side out” or “Long!” on the serve. But after a bit, I got more into it. A few times, following a particularly nice serve, I exclaimed, “Whoa! Buried it!”

I found that I was complimenting the play of the other player. I knew that was the case, because one time I did not speak to the other player. Instead, it was a bit of trash talk: “Ha! Take that!” For the most part though, I was able to separate myself enough that I could give myself encouragement and compliments. That is not my typical self-talk.

When I was younger, one of my favorite Pixar shorts was “Geri’s game.” I could not wait until I became an old man and could go to the park and play chess against myself. I am not quite sure if my experience means that I am an old man, or that I did not have to become an old man in order to play against myself. Either way, it felt good to get some sincere compliments for my playing.

This game made me realize how much self-talk matters. Positive self-talk is a skill, and a crucial one to maintain good mental health. I want to work toward the day when I don’t have to compliment the other player to say nice things to myself.

Update: I had a rematch

Great inspiration on making small changes to set yourself apart: Sunday Firesides: The Slipstream of Comfort - The Art of Manliness

We often despair of finding success, and being noticed in a saturated field, feeling that we have to compete with everyone, and be many orders of magnitude greater. In reality, you just have to be a few degrees different to leave the masses behind.

This jumped out as being directly applicable to me as an iOS developer. It can feel like the App Store is overcrowded; that there is no room to distinguish my apps. But it really doesn’t require insane amounts of investment—just a steady commitment to make great work. Of course, that’s not a business plan, but it is a means of differentiation.

It’s also applicable more generally right now. This week I’ve been blogging more and have started a podcast. These are both skills that I want to develop more. It is easy to allow self-doubt to creep in and discourage me from pushing forward. “I’ll never be exceptional. I’ll never make a difference.”

The truth is—I don’t have to be exceptional, and I don’t have to make it big. I can make a difference to one person, even myself as I clarify my own thinking. In a world over-saturated with content vying for attention, a little authenticity goes a long way.

Had a great experience at church today. Just what I needed. Friendly people, peaceful spirit. God is great!

📖 The Voyages and Adventures of Captain Hatteras

By Jules Verne

🎥 Glass

On healing retreat

A trip to the local rec center can bring more real-life inspiration than watching the Olympic Games.

A couple days ago, I recorded a podcast episode about my experience at the rec center called At Your Own Pace. Yesterday, I took another walk around the rec center track, and wanted to share some additional thoughts.

People watching

I noticed more about the people around me this time. Not just the people on the track, but the people played pickleball and basketball down below. The people lifting weights. The people on the stairmasters. The people on the treadmills. As I discussed in my podcast, there is huge variety in the people at the rec center. The track is pretty small, so I saw a number of these people over and over as I walked around.

Treadmill guy

My walk lasted 45 minutes, and early on, I noticed a guy running on a treadmill. I didn’t pay much attention to him at the time, but as I got close to the end of my walk I realized that he was still there. Still running. He was not particularly athletic. He was younger than I, around the same height, and a bit heavier. And he just kept running. I started to pay more attention as I made my rounds. His shirt was completely soaked with sweat—wet shoulders, wet chest, wet back. Just before I ended my walk, I saw him get off. I walked over to him, apologized for interrupting his solitude, and told him that he inspired me more than anyone else there. He was taken aback, and responded, “Me?” I confirmed and wished him a good day.

I shared that story because of how much it affected me. I felt some anxiety as I considered approaching him, but I felt strongly that he deserved to know what an impact he had on me. After talking to him, I felt a surge of positive emotion, and hope that he did as well. It is something I would like to feel more often.

Olympics

Growing up, the Olympics were a huge deal in my family. I remember gathering around the TV and watching all sorts of events together. Whichever events and whichever athletes my dad cheered for became critically important to my young mind. I loved the experience of watching people who had trained so diligently perform otherworldly feats that I could only dream of. I was touched by the camaraderie I saw between people of all nationalities. The Olympics inspired me.

As I have grown up, I see more nuance with the Olympics. They still inspire me. But now I recognize more of what’s involved. As I watch TV specials about the athletes’ childhoods, I realize how much they and their families had to sacrifice in the service of my entertainment. Obviously there is much more at play than the few seconds of entertainment that is provided. But the utter absorption into their sports required by the athletes feels like a higher and higher cost.

Relatable inspiration

As I walked around the rec center track, I realized that I was feeling inspiration similar to what I get watching the Olympics. But there was a huge difference. I was inspired by the people at the rec center, not to dream of accomplishing the impossible, but to make small and meaningful changes. I saw myself in the treadmill guy, with just a little bit of chunk hanging out over his shorts. I saw him doing something to improve his health and his life. I saw middle-aged women on the exercise bike who were never going to be Olympic athletes, but they are going to be healthier today than they were yesterday. I saw old men with canes out on the track getting passed by everyone and continuing to walk around.

I saw greatness in the rec center that day. And I wanted to be better myself.

Oh, to be like a flower. Perhaps even a lily of the field. From my Daily Calm 🧘🏻‍♂️

Tweaked my site design to have a dark theme by default, and adapt for light appearance where that’s possible. As someone who lives in dark mode, this feels much better. 👨🏻‍💻

This is a big part of why I am trying to meditate more. There are mental skills that I desire, and the skill of concentration will help enable the others. From my Daily Calm 🧘🏻‍♂️

I share my thoughts from time spent at the rec center, and how those can be applied to life more generally.

Links:

Being the worst

One of the fastest ways to grow is to put ourselves in situations where we are inexperienced or even incompetent.

I took the opportunity the other day to join in an open Pickleball night at the local rec center. This was my second time ever playing in my life, and while I had a great time, I commented to a friend the next day,

You can only be the worst at something for so long, and then you have to leave 😉

This feeling was most pronounced in my final game. I was paired with a fairly experienced player, against two other experienced players. I was clearly the weak link. My shots were inconsistent and my partner was not able to carry us. We ended up losing 2-11.

After leaving, a few lessons stuck out to me. First, recognizing that I was an inferior player made me extremely humble. I was ready and eager to accept any instruction, hint, or encouragement from other players. While I am a fairly competitive person, it is hard to get too worked up when I know from the beginning that I am likely to lose. So being the worst changed my attitude and approach.

You often hear the virtues of a “beginner’s mind” extolled as a way to stay open to new ideas and to be able to learn from anywhere. Having this mindset allows you to be more pliable and teachable as you recognize how much you stand to learn. When you are not only a beginner, but the only beginner amongst non-beginners, this experience is heightened considerably.

Finally, being the worst removes you from the dangerous grip of imposter syndrome. This often creeps in when you start to fear that others view you as more capable than you feel, and worry that you will be discovered. When you are clearly the worst, that fear is washed away. No one thinks you are better than you are, although the reality is that you are almost certainly better than you think you are.

If you have the psychic resilience, regularly putting yourself in situations where you are the worst is a fantastic way to learn and grow. You will have empathy for those who are worse than you in other aspects of your life. Just make sure that in your quest to gain compassion for others, you preserve a healthy dose of compassion for yourself as well. You are going to need it.

🎥 Green Book

Alone on healing retreat

Breathtaking view on the way to my therapist. It must be a sign. ☺️

I have come to hate this phrase as a greeting. 😡

As I wrote about recently, I have been struggling lately with mental health challenges. This has made me more aware than ever of how often people ask a deep and probing personal question as a greeting with no thought or consideration behind it. It is an easy question to throw out, and at times an impossible one to answer.

Here are some examples of these deeply intimate and personal questions masquerading as greetings:

• How are you?
• How’s it going?
• How have you been?
• How you doing?

Even if the person you are greeting is not suffering in some way, although nearly everyone is, asking a personal question as a greeting is uncouth. Our socially-acceptable response is a lie, followed by an equally thoughtless question.

How’s it going?

Fine. How are you?

Good.

Good.

If someone ever stops and truly answers the greeting question, you are taken aback. Even more so if the answer is not shallow and positive.

One major problem I have with these greetings is the implied level of intimacy. Who are you to ask me how I’m doing? I don’t care about you enough to give you those details! I don’t want to tell you what my life is like right now. And I sure as heckfire don’t want to have to lie to you and tell you that I’m doing well, or even fine. I am not fine! And it’s none of your business!

In my more calm moments, I have come up with a solution that I find elegant and simple. I merely sidestep the question.

How are you?

Hey, it’s good to see you!

This has many benefits. First off, I don’t have to confront the dilemma of divulging too many personal details or telling an outright lie. Secondly, I am more direct and honest. In nearly all cases, I really am glad to see the person, I just don’t want to have an intimate conversation. Finally, it’s an extremely low-effort sifting process. Those who actually care how I’m doing will appreciate my sincere words, and will return to the question they consciously intended to ask. Those who don’t care won’t even notice. To them, I exchanged one socially-acceptable greeting for another.

Eventually, this question won’t bother me so much. When that day comes, I pray that I will remember how much it did bother me so I can be compassionate to others who are suffering. Until then, I will continue my sidestep enough that it will come with practiced ease.

This is so important. It reminds me of one of my favorite quotes from Thomas S. Monson:

Never let a problem to be solved become more important than a person to be loved

From my Daily Calm

My first microcast episode is mostly an introduction to me and where I’m at right now. I explore a bit of my mental health journey, and the kinds of things I’m working on right now in order to heal.

Links:

Coming out 💮 (tl;dr Hi, I’m Ben, and I have OCD. 👋)

So easy to forget. And so important to remember. Daily Calm 🧘🏻‍♂️

So much easier said than done, but this is my quest right now. Daily Calm 🧘🏻‍♂️

I sure love Sundays. It was a great opportunity to worship and feel close to my Savior, Jesus Christ. I need that more than ever these days.