Adjust Or Change?

When people tell me they want to change something in their lives, their history usually goes something like this:

They've attempted to climb a pretty large mountain . . . and rarely made it much past the foothills.

Sound familiar?

I think that's because wholesale change is just too big a chunk.

Adjustments, on the other hand, are bite-sized.

They're a little easier to digest.

I don't think I've ever met anyone who has actually "changed."

I've met plenty of people who have migrated from being maladjusted to making adjustments.

And that got me thinking about something my friend Doug O'Brien said moon’s ago about moon rockets.

He pointed out that a moon rocket can be off course for more than 90% of its trip.

Think about that.

It's headed toward the moon, and for much of the journey it's making little course corrections . . . constantly adjusting its trajectory to get where it's going.

It doesn't make one big correction and say, "Okay, we're done."

It adjusts.

And adjusts again.

And then adjusts again.

I think our lives work a lot like that.

Based on my experience, the word change seems to have a little "set it and forget it" attached to it.

We want to change something from this to that . . . and then be done with it.

We'd like it to be as easy as changing the color of the wall in our bathroom.

Pick a color.

Paint the wall.

Done.

But meaningful change rarely works that way.

Change is a series of adjustments.

It's a migration . . . not a quick coat of paint.

Think about a golfer who says he's going to change his swing.

What does that really mean?

Usually, it means he's working with a coach and making some adjustments.

Maybe it's his grip.

Maybe his stance.

Maybe the way he starts the backswing.

And when that adjustment begins to feel comfortable, there's another one.

Then another.

You don't suddenly wake up one morning with a completely different golf swing.

It's a series of adjustments that, when you stand back and look at the whole thing, it gets labeled as "change."

And I realize this may sound like semantics . . . but I think the wording matters.

If you've got the word change filling up your head, you can easily conjure up something that feels insurmountable.

"I've got to change."

That's a pretty big assignment.

But if you think about it as making a series of adjustments . . . well, that feels a little more manageable.

A little more attainable.

And I'm not simply talking about "one step at a time."

It's more than that.

It's taking this big, intimidating concept called change and breaking it down into pieces that are small enough to actually do something with.

Because when something feels overwhelming, we have a funny tendency to keep it at arm's length.

We think about it.

We talk about it.

We intend to do something about it.

And then somehow . . . nothing gets done.

So perhaps the question isn't, "What do I need to change?"

Maybe a better question is:

"What could I adjust?"

Just one thing.

One small adjustment that moves you in the direction you want to go.

What small adjustment can you make today?

It's worth getting curious about.

And when you discover the answer . . . act on it.

To borrow a line from astronaut Neil Armstrong:

"That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind."

Maybe that's how change really happens.

Not all at once.

Just one adjustment . . . followed by another . . . and another.

All the best,

John