The myth of the big leap
Micro-moves, Major impact
There’s a scene I replay in my head, over and over: I’m standing on a metaphorical cliff, the world waiting for me to leap. My inner narrator, voiced by Morgan Freeman or Amitabh Bachchan, delivers the kind of line you would expect at the climax of a movie. I take a deep breath and jump… and land, not in a shining new future, but ankle-deep in a puddle. Wet socks. No trumpet fanfare. Just the splash.
For years, I bought into the “big leap” mythology. You know the script: quit your job, pack a bag, move to a beach shack where inspiration and success wait like loyal Labradors. Or make an industry switch and become Shah Rukh Khan or Satya Nadella by Monday—minus the dimples or the billion-dollar software throne.
But most change isn’t that cinematic. My life, and, likely yours too, resembles a slow-burning series: no frills, no shortcuts, just story, unfolding quietly, one episode at a time.
When I look back at my own so-called “leaps,” they are mostly sidesteps. I did not abandon everything and reinvent myself overnight. (Last week, I wrote about how my career zigzagged before dropping me, unexpectedly and somewhat gently, into the world of sales—a path I enjoy but never planned for.) Those shifts, I now see, were really a stack of small pivots. They only sound like a symphony if you squint from a distance.
Running proves the point. People imagine marathon training as a Rocky montage: sunrise jogs, triumphant music, a heroic finish. In reality, it is damp socks, existential questioning by kilometre 14, and the promise of parathas as motivation. The finish line lasts five minutes; the real story is one foot, then the other, on repeat.
Writing is similar. The myth goes that authors create in candlelit bursts of genius. Maybe some do. My routine with Accidentally Wise, and these weekly Substack pieces? A blinking cursor. One awkward sentence. Delete, repeat. Tea becomes a bribe.
Sales gets the same outsized treatment. Think power suits, big deals, celebratory dinners. In truth, it is more follow-ups than fireworks, more spreadsheets than schmoozing. I love it, but, like running and writing, success here is about showing up every day and working through the ordinary.
Over time, I have come to prefer progress made quietly. Small steps feel manageable, sometimes even comforting, in a way big leaps rarely do. You don’t have to upend your life to move forward. Just keep your eye on the big picture while taking the pivots right in front of you. They add up to something sturdier - and often, more satisfying - than any single leap.
So if you find yourself ankle-deep in a puddle instead of soaring into the sunset? Take off the wet socks, have a laugh, and keep walking. The story is not in the leap. It is in every step after.
Audio version generated via Google NotebookLM
"But most change isn’t that cinematic" - no change is easy, every step is a change and one should manage to be steady and not stumble. And, yes, of course, each step is a story, unfolding quietly, one episode at a time- as bubbles of memory.