Every once in a while, I come across a “piece of wisdom” or “life principle” that bothers me for years—in a slightly painful yet advantageous way. One such idea is: “How you do one is how you do everything.”
When I initially heard this statement, it didn’t ring true to me. I tend to be skeptical of generalizations. But over time, I encountered that idea more than once—and somehow, it stuck with me.
When something like this happens, I know there must be a hidden gem waiting to be unearthed. So, I ask myself: “If it were true—or mostly true in a relevant way—what could I learn from it?”
Letting such a thought experiment run in the back of my mind can be somewhat uncomfortable. In a way, there needs to be an initial worsening before things can improve. We use our convictions to filter our perception of the world, and adopting a new perspective based on an unfamiliar belief will inevitably cause emotional friction. In other words, it can suck to make the effort to change—and improve—your mind. That’s why so many people prefer to stay ignorant and stick with their habitual thickness. This is part of being human—or at least, that’s what I’ve been told.
In that respect, I don’t like to “be human”. So, I embrace the pain and do it anyway.
For quite a while now, I’ve been running this sentence through my head: “How I do one thing, I do—pretty much—everything.” And this damn often turns out to be enlightening in situations where I wouldn’t have expected it. On one hand, this reveals a lot about my self-sabotaging patterns (and yes, we all have them—it’s part of being human). On the other hand, it points to overlooked opportunities to gain leverage over unconscious programs I would prefer—and fully intent—to get rid of.
Why does this give me leverage? Because it makes me hyper-aware that changing one truly impactful thing in a single area of my life ripples into others. For example: If someone dislikes how they communicate with authority figures, I’d argue they should first eliminate dysfunctional patterns in other interactions. Tackling the biggest resistance head-on is often less efficient than taking a slightly longer but gentler path that actually accelerates progress.
When I want to be more relaxed, assertive, disciplined, or attentive, I don’t just focus all my energy on doing things differently in those rare situations where my nerves are already on edge. Instead, I place a high value on embodying those traits in situations where nothing disastrous would happen if I dropped the ball.
Ultimately, we can leverage how we do one thing to transform everything. This is the main lesson I’ve learned from that slightly bothering idea.
