25. Building the New: The Secret to Meaningful Change

Why does change feel so hard?

In this episode of The Epiphany Effect, Ash explores a powerful quote from Socrates: "The secret to change is to focus all your energy not on fighting the old, but on building the new."

Through personal stories, leadership lessons, and practical insights, you'll discover why lasting transformation comes from creating better habits, systems, and possibilities rather than constantly battling what's broken. If you're working toward personal growth, stronger relationships, or meaningful change in your life, this episode will give you a fresh perspective on where to focus your energy.

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Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:10

Hey everyone, welcome back to the Piffany Effect. I'm your host Ash. This is the podcast where we explore how the words of the wise can spark insights and inspire meaningful action in our lives. Today's episode is centered around a quote attributed to the Greek philosopher Socrates. The secret to change is to focus all your energy, not on fighting the old, but on building the new. It's simple, but almost suspiciously simple. In fact, when I first read that, I thought, sure, Socrates, that sounds nice. But have you ever tried changing literally anything in real life? Because change, as we all know, is messy. Organizations resist it, habits resist it, other people resist it. And if we're honest, we resist it too. But Socrates wasn't just talking about change in theory. He was pointing to something deeper. Where we put our energy matters more than what we're trying to eliminate. Today we're going to explore what that really means, why fighting the old rarely works, why building something new changes everything, and how we can apply that wisdom in our personal lives, our work, and even our communities. Along the way, we'll talk about the psychology of change, the surprising power of small beginnings, and why sometimes the best way to stop doing something is to start doing something better. Most of us approach change like we're trying to evict an unwanted house guest. We point at the old behavior, the old system, the old habit, and we say, all right, that's it, you're out. We declare war on it. We make rules, we add policies, we create New Year's resolutions. And somehow the old thing just keeps showing up again. If you've ever tried to stop checking your phone before bed, you know exactly what I mean. You tell yourself no phone after eight. Then suddenly it's 10:37 and you're watching a video of a raccoon stealing cat food from someone's porch. Not that I've ever done that. Okay, maybe once. Or twice. But the point is this removing something doesn't automatically create something better. Nature hates a vacuum, and so do our habits. If we only focus on eliminating the old, we leave empty space. And empty space almost always gets filled by the very thing we're trying to get rid of. That's why Socrates' insight is so powerful. He wasn't saying ignore the past, he was saying the real leverage of change comes from creation, not confrontation. Let's think about this in a different way. Imagine someone walks into a room and says, this place is a mess. Now imagine they spend the next hour pointing out everything that's wrong. The clutter, the dust, the crooked picture frame. Technically, they're not wrong. But the room is still a mess. Now imagine someone else walks in. They start clearing a space, they set up a table, they bring in better lighting. Suddenly, the room begins to transform. Not because someone fought the mess, but because someone started building something better. This is the essence of Socrates' wisdom. Real change happens when we shift from critics to creators, from problem fighters to possibility builders. And this shift is powerful because it redirects our most valuable resource, our attention. One of the clearest examples of this in my life came from a time when I was trying to change a habit that honestly felt impossible. It was one of those habits where you know exactly what you should do, and yet somehow you keep doing the exact opposite. You know the type. I kept trying to force the change by focusing on what I needed to stop doing. I made rules, I created reminders, I gave myself motivational speeches. At one point, I even wrote the goal on a sticky note and put it on my mirror, which worked great. Because how could I not look at the sticky note while still doing the thing I was trying to stop doing? Eventually it hit me. Instead of trying to eliminate the old habit, I needed to build a new routine that made the old one unnecessary. And when that shift happened, when the focus moved from removal to creation, everything started to change. Not overnight, but steadily, because the energy had moved from resistance to construction. Modern research on behavior change supports this idea. One of the most influential voices in this area is James Clear, author of the book Atomic Habits. Clear explains that lasting change happens when we design systems that make the new behavior easier than the old one, and not through willpower, but through structure. In other words, if you want to stop doing something, the most effective strategy is often to start doing something better that naturally replaces it. This is why people who want to read more often start by placing books where their phones used to be. This is why teams that want better meetings don't just complain about bad ones. They create clear agendas, facilitation roles, and shared expectations. They build the new. And once the new exists, the old loses its grip. Here's where the challenge shows up. Building something new takes courage. Criticism is easy. Creation is harder. It's easy to say this system is broken. This culture isn't working. This habit needs to go. But building something better requires experimentation, patience, humility, and the willingness to start before everything is figured out, which is deeply uncomfortable. Because building something new means we might fail. And failure has a way of making us feel like we should have just left things alone. But the truth is, every meaningful improvement in history came from someone choosing to build rather than complain. Every innovation, every reform, every breakthrough, someone stopped fighting the old long enough to imagine the new. One of the things I've learned over the years is that meaningful change rarely begins with grand gestures. It starts small, almost annoyingly small. Sometimes the change begins with a single conversation. Sometimes it begins with someone asking a different question. Sometimes it begins with one person quietly trying a new approach. And those moments matter because they introduce possibility. They prove that the old way isn't the only way. And once that possibility exists, it begins to spread. Not because people were forced to change, but because they saw something better. This idea is incredibly important for leaders. Because when leaders want change, the instinct is often to push harder, more pressure, more accountability, more urgency. But sustainable change rarely comes from pressure alone. It comes from clarity and vision. When people see a compelling alternative, they begin to move toward it naturally. This is why the best leaders spend less time explaining what's wrong and more time painting a picture of what could be better. They build the new. And of course, this idea isn't just about organizations. It's deeply personal. Every one of us has something in our life we are trying to change: a habit, a mindset, a pattern of thinking, maybe even a story we've been telling ourselves for years. And the instinct is often to attack the problem directly, to fight it, to criticize it, to judge ourselves for it. But what if the real question isn't how do I stop this? What if the real question is, what new thing could I build that would make this old thing irrelevant? This reminds me of something that happens every January. You know the moment, the gym is suddenly packed, everyone has new workout clothes, fresh water bottles, and the determination of a superhero montage. And then by February, half of them disappear. Not because they lacked motivation, but because they tried to fight the old lifestyle instead of building a new one that actually fit their life. Also, if your new fitness routine requires waking up at 4:30, drinking kale smoothies, and doing burpees while listening to motivational speeches, it might not be a routine. It might be a cry for help. Sustainable change is rarely dramatic. It's consistent. There's a moment I think most parents know well, even if they don't talk about it much. It's not the dramatic moments. It's not the big breakdowns or major conflicts, it's the everyday ones. The I told you five times already moments. The why is this happening again five minutes after we just talked about it moments. And usually it involves siblings, because if you want a masterclass in energy, emotion, and zero interest in efficiency, just observe siblings trying to share space for more than 17 seconds. In this particular moment, let's just say things were escalating quickly. Nothing serious, no emergency, no catastrophe, but the kind of situation where the volume in the house is rising in direct opposition to the patience of the adult trying to manage it. One kid is frustrated. The other is defending their position like it's a Supreme Court case. And somewhere in the middle there's a toy, or maybe it was a game or a snack. Honestly, it doesn't matter anymore because the principal has now entered the conversation. And as the adult in the room, you do what most of us instinctively do. You step in to correct it. You start naming the problem. Stop grabbing, use your words, don't take things from each other. Why are we still arguing about this? In theory, all of those statements are correct. But in practice, nothing changes. If anything, it gets louder. Because now you've added a third voice into a situation that was already operating at maximum capacity. And this is where something interesting usually happens. You realize you're not actually reducing the chaos. You're just narrating it. It's like trying to put out a fire by describing it very accurately. At some point, I remember pausing and thinking, this is not working. Not because the kids suddenly become more difficult, but because the strategy wasn't actually addressing the energy underneath the behavior. And that's when that familiar idea starts to show up, the one Socrates was pointing to. Stop fighting the old, start building the new. Because right now, all the attention is on what not to do. Don't grab, don't yell, don't argue. Which, if you think about it, is a real strange way to guide behavior. It's like saying, whatever you do, do not picture a pink elephant. And suddenly, that's all you can think about. So instead of trying to eliminate the conflict in the moment, the shift becomes something much simpler, and honestly, much harder to remember in real time. Redirect the energy. Not suppress it, not debate it, not outlogic it. Just redirect it. So instead of continuing to narrate what was going wrong, the focus shifts to what could happen instead. Hey, can you two show me how fast you can reset this and start over like a team? Or let's figure out a way where you both get a turn without me being the referee of the year. Or sometimes just changing the frame entirely. This is turning into a problem-solving mission. I need two engineers, not two opponents. And something interesting happens in those moments. The energy doesn't disappear, but it changes direction, because now there's something to build, a shared goal, a new game, a reset moment, a different outcome to move toward. And it's not perfect. It doesn't magically turn siblings into calm, emotionally regulated philosophers, but it does interrupt the cycle. And more importantly, it shifts the focus away from the behavior you're trying to eliminate and towards the behavior you actually want to see more of. Looking back, this is one of those small parenting lessons that quietly becomes a life lesson. Because the instinct doesn't just show up with kids, it shows up everywhere, in relationships, in teams, in ourselves. We spend so much energy pointing at what's wrong, trying to correct it, trying to argue it into submission. But often the more effective question is, what am I trying to build here instead? Because when something better exists, the old doesn't need as much fighting. It just loses relevance. And in that way, something as simple as a sibling disagreement becomes a reminder. You don't always change behavior by confronting it harder. Sometimes you change it by giving energy somewhere better to go. Socrates understood something profound about human nature. Lasting change isn't about forcing people or ourselves to abandon the past. It's about creating a future that's too compelling to ignore. And building that future takes time. It takes patience. It takes repeated small actions. But over time, those small actions accumulate. And eventually, you look back and realize something remarkable. The old thing that once felt impossible to change is simply no longer part of your life. Not because you defeated it, but because you built something better. Today I want to leave you with the simple question. Where in your life are you spending energy fighting the old? And what might happen if you redirected that energy toward building the new? Maybe it's a habit. Maybe it's a leadership challenge. Maybe it's a personal goal that has felt stuck for far too long. Whatever it is, remember Socrates' wisdom. The secret to change is to focus all your energy, not on fighting the old, but on building the new. Because when we shift from resistance to creation, we stop reacting to the past and start designing the future. Thanks for joining me on this episode of The Epiphany Effect. If today's quote sparked an epiphany for you, I'd love for you to share this episode with someone who might need it. Until next time, keep reflecting, keep learning, and keep building the life you want to live.