Somebody described their situation
to you last week.
Four sentences.
You answered in about forty seconds,
and you were right,
and they knew you were right,
and they thanked you for it.
You have been carrying
the same shape
for seven months.
Notice what was different.
Not your intelligence.
Not how much you know.
You could see theirs from outside,
as a shape,
with two options and a cost,
and you picked one.
You see yours from inside.
From inside there is a history.
The reason it is not that simple.
The person whose feelings are in it.
The thing you tried in March
that half worked.
Every occasion on which
you already decided not to.
You think that detail
is what makes your case hard.
It is not.
It is what makes it
hard to see.
The inside view holds
more information
and produces worse judgement,
because most of that information
is not evidence.
It is defence,
assembled slowly,
by you,
for you.
And you apply a standard
you would never apply outward.
You accept a reason from yourself
that you would gently take apart
if a friend offered it.
Count what that has cost.
Seven months is not thinking.
Seven months is the same
forty second answer,
available the whole time,
refused because it arrived
without enough ceremony
for something that felt this large.
You wanted a solution
that matched the weight
of carrying it,
and the real one
is small, and slightly boring,
and was there in March.
So change the seat you are sitting in.
Write your situation down
as though somebody sent it to you.
Three sentences.
Third person.
No history,
because a stranger would not have any.
Then answer it
the way you answered them,
quickly,
in the plain voice
you use for other people.
If the answer is obvious
in three sentences,
you now know what all the rest
was doing there.
The thing you have been calling
complexity
is mostly just
proximity.
– Serguey Asael Shinder
