Were the Grapes Sour, Fox?

How to overcome self-deception to achieve your goals.

It’s a hot summer, and golden fields of wheat are all around. In the distance, I spot a vine. My throat is parched, so I sneak through the wheat stalks. As I pass, the crackling sound of a rattle startles me. Maybe I’m mistaken; maybe it’s a snake that will capture me. I quicken my pace, ignoring the scratches left by the dry wheat exposed to long days of relentless sun.

As I emerge from the field, I feel serene, but it’s only a moment before my mind returns to a juicy, hungry instinct. I feel my heart race, my stomach growl, and I look at leaves showing the first signs of burning. Summer is ending. The grains are large and inviting. I hope those cursed farmers have yet to replace them with poisonous products. After all, I don’t have the hands to pick and wash them.

I approach closer, and as I’m underneath, I realize that… it can’t be: my usual bad luck… I stretch, yet I can’t reach the lowest grape. Hmm, let me think. Drooping branches? Nothing. Oh, how well-tended the vineyard is. Cursed farmers, why don’t they get drunk at the bar instead of being so diligent?

Indeed, it’s boiling. I need to rest. Actually, you know what? These grapes don’t convince me. Raven, what are you looking at? Ah, if only I had your wings, then I’d know what to do.

But no, it doesn’t make sense, this grape is sour. Let’s look for something else.

I’ve lived a week full of insights and encounters. Ever since I abandoned myself to deliberate networking, I can’t stop meeting people and putting my ideas in the pruning shears of others. If humans are always ready to criticize, exploiting it is crucial. Clarity and growth come from criticism.

But in this clarity, we often deceive ourselves. Rather than evaluating things from another perspective, we tend to devalue what we can’t achieve. It’s not about envying others’ success, or rather, not just that. It’s about giving up on finding a solution. We deceive ourselves, we settle.

The story of the fox tells us and engrains in our heads the idea that the fox fails in what it could have indeed achieved, and not being able to, lacking resilience, lacking sufficient will, inevitably returns home with an empty stomach.

So, the fox begins to blame the circumstances. This mechanism of self-deception is a valuable defense. The fox doesn’t want to feel incapable and convinces itself that the grapes are sour. But what if this were a power?

Staying in situations we can’t change is only sometimes helpful. And stoically enduring doesn’t always make us better. There’s a limit, and this limit isn’t given. Devoting a life to suffering pressure, adapting to others’ behaviors, and chasing an unattainable dream wastes time. If we don’t learn the lessons or move forward, we’re just wasting our time, which marches on relentlessly like a door closing as you stand sweating on the platform with that heavy bag cutting into your shoulders.

The fox deceives itself, but in this deception, it processes its grief and can move on.

I’ve seen others do it, immediately countered by the inconsistent formulation of hope for future days.

Here’s where the mistake manifests. Not analyzing the past with Sherlock’s lens is also a way to avoid being sunk by disastrous events. But doing so while thinking that the future will magically sort itself out because it’s far off in time turns into a bomb.

This week, I’ve learned that grapes are sour. I need to build a system to help me satisfy my hunger every day because it’s solely my responsibility if I don’t manage to pick one and verify how immature it is.

If you have doubts about how to do it, I’m here to help. I help people understand their mission, why it’s worth it, and how to commit to reaching it beyond every challenge. I also help companies take a leap and focus on their next project.

Choosing which grapes to eat without complaining about the circumstances helps you grow. And it helps organizations scale as a result of pursuing a mission.

If you liked this article, reach out to me on X/Twitter to continue the conversation.

Originally published at https://matteocervelli.com on May 11, 2024.