The Obstacle is the Way Expanded 10th Anniversary Edition: The Timeless Art of Turning Trials into Triumph

by Ryan Holiday

For all species other than us humans, things just are what they are. Our problem is that we’re always trying to figure out what things mean—why things are the way they are. As though the why matters. Emerson put it best: “We cannot spend the day in explanation.” Don’t waste time on false constructs. It doesn’t matter whether this is the worst time to be alive or the best, whether you’re in a good job market or a bad one, or that the obstacle you face is intimidating or burdensome. What matters is that right now is right now.

Remember that this moment is not your life, it’s just a moment in your life.

How you do anything is how you can do everything. We can always act right.

Perceptions can be managed. Actions can be directed. We can always think clearly, respond creatively. Look for opportunity, seize the initiative. What we can’t do is control the world around us—not as much as we’d like to, anyway. We might perceive things well, then act rightly, and fail anyway. Run it through your head like this: Nothing can ever prevent us from trying. Ever. All creativity and dedication aside, after we’ve tried, some obstacles may turn out to be impossible to overcome. Some actions are rendered ineffectual, some paths impassable. Some things are bigger than us. Some problems just keep happening.

Everything is a chance to do our best, to be our best. Just our best, that’s it. Not the impossible.

Life will cut you open like a knife. When that happens—at that exposing moment—the world gets a glimpse of what’s truly inside you. So what will be revealed when you’re sliced open by tension and pressure? Iron? Or air? Or bullshit? As such, the will is the critical third discipline. We can think, act, and finally adjust to a world that is inherently unpredictable.

In the meantime, cling tooth and nail to the following rule: not to give in to adversity, not to trust prosperity, and always take full note of fortune’s habit of behaving just as she pleases. —Seneca

She is using a technique designed by psychologist Gary Klein known as a premortem. In a postmortem, doctors convene to examine the causes of a patient’s unexpected death so they can learn and improve for the next time a similar circumstance arises. Outside of the medical world, we call this a number of things—a debriefing, an exit interview, a wrap-up meeting, a review—but whatever it’s called, the idea is the same: We’re examining the project in hindsight, after it happened.

A premortem is different. In it, we look to envision what could go wrong, what will go wrong, before we start. Far too many ambitious undertakings fail for preventable reasons. Far too many people don’t have a backup plan because they refuse to consider that something might not go exactly as they wish.

Today, the premortem is increasingly popular in business circles, from start-ups to Fortune 500 companies and the Harvard Business Review—and for good reason. But like all great ideas, it is actually nothing new. The credit goes to the Stoics. They even had a better name: premeditatio malorum (premeditation of evils).

Acceptance, too, often feels like resignation to us, especially when we are young, ambitious, and determined. I can’t just give up! I want to fight! You know you’re not the only one who has to accept things you don’t necessarily like, right? It’s part of the human condition. If someone we knew took traffic signals personally, we would judge them insane. If we met someone who was fighting gravity or the sunset, we’d pity them. Life deals us unavoidable, inalterable things. It tells us to come to a stop here. Or that some intersection is blocked or that a particular road has been rerouted through an inconvenient detour. We can’t argue or yell this problem away. We must simply accept it. That is not to say we allow it to prevent us from reaching our ultimate destination. But it does change the way we travel to get there and the duration of the trip.

Edison calmly but quickly made his way to the fire, through the now hundreds of onlookers and devastated employees, looking for his son. “Go get your mother and all her friends,” he told his son with what almost sounded like excitement. “They’ll never see a fire like this again.” What?! “Don’t worry,” Edison calmed him. “It’s all right. We’ve just got rid of a lot of rubbish.” That’s a pretty amazing reaction. But when you think about it, there really was no other response. What should Edison have done? Wept? Gotten angry? Quit and gone home? What, exactly, would that have accomplished? You know the answer now: nothing.

The good thing about true perseverance is that it can’t be stopped by anything besides death.

Our actions can be constrained, but our will can’t be. Our plans—even our bodies—can be broken. But belief in ourselves? No matter how many times we are thrown back, we alone retain the power to decide to go once more. Or to try another route. Or, at the very least, to accept this reality and decide upon a new aim. Determination, if you think about it, is invincible.

Whatever trouble you’re having—no matter how difficult—is not some unique misfortune picked out especially for you. It just is what it is.

Reminding ourselves each day that we will die helps us treat our time as a gift. Someone on a deadline doesn’t indulge themselves with attempts at the impossible, they don’t waste time complaining about how they’d like things to be. They don’t take people for granted, they are grateful for everything. They figure out what they need to do and do it, fitting in as much as possible before the clock expires. They figure out how, when that moment strikes, to say, Of course, I would have liked to last a little longer, but I made a lot out of what I was already given so this works, too.

First, see clearly. Next, act correctly. Finally, endure and accept the world as it is.