Stories of Whether Something Is Worth the Effort
A method for investigating the "why" behind our actions.
To What End? / What’s the Point?
When deciding whether or not to take an initiative or perform an action, we are faced with two possible questions.
The first question is summed up in the expression “to what end? / what’s the point?” and the second in the expression “why not?
With the expression “to what end? / what’s the point?,” what we are really asking is whether or not it is worth taking the initiative.
How do you figure out if something is worth the effort?
The question “to what end? / what’s the point?” is related to an assessment of the effort, compromises, and sacrifices required of ourselves or others in relation to what we want to achieve. It is a valid way to ask, at the outset, whether we perform a given action for the sake of the process (the path) or for the result (the destination). If we act because we enjoy the process itself, the problem does not arise because there is no question of effort. If, on the other hand, we act for the result, then the process of inquiry must continue.
Are you doing something because you enjoy the process, or are you doing it because you get something out of it?
If you enjoy the process, there is no effort. It’s pleasurable. But if you do it exclusively for the result, we must look more deeply into it.
If the result is the primary focus, we must ask whether the effort is worth it. To understand whether the expected result is worth the effort, we can try to reframe the result as an experience only, rather than as a “thing” or as something related to “identity,” which would reduce the distortion produced by the stories.
In the case where it’s about the result, you need to find out if the result is worth the effort.
The problem is that there may be stories that produce distortion, and that distortion increases your motivation to get the result.
For example, let’s say I try to sell you a “diamond” but in reality it is not a diamond. It is just glass. I am lying to you – the lie is a distortion of reality. You may be willing to buy the “diamond” at a certain price, but that’s only because of the distortion/lie. Distortion makes it more difficult to assess if something is worth the effort.
To understand if a result is worth the effort, we must remove the distortions. We do that by removing the story-component of the motivation. Stories influence our willingness to make an effort. So if I, as the seller, remove the lie that this is a real diamond, this reveals that it is just glass and your willingness to buy it for a high price disappears. The glass may still be worth something, but not the price of a diamond.
Removing the distortion is done through “reframing.”
We define “reframing” as removing the story-component of the “why” and this removes the distortions. This allows you to analyze the worth of something without distortion. You see it only from the perspective of experience, and you are then removing the story-component of the motivation.
When we remove the stories and any identity-story component, we reframe the result exclusively as experience. Then we can evaluate the outcome as experience only and not as something that defines our identity.
Experience Versus Results
For example, if I decided to climb Mount Everest, I might first ask myself whether I am willing to take this initiative exclusively for the experience of the climb itself, or because, once I reach the summit, I want to show the photos to my friends, expecting admiration and recognition.
There are three cases:
1. I climb the mountain because I enjoy the act of climbing.
I do it because I enjoy the experience of climbing. This takes no effort, because what is enjoyable does not take effort.
2. I hate to climb but I do it for the result-experience: the experience of being at the top.
I enjoy being at the top, but I do not enjoy the climb to get there. It doesn’t matter how I get to the top. If I’m rich, I’ll rent a helicopter so I can be at the top and not have to make the unpleasant effort of climbing. Otherwise, I’ll make the effort even though it is unpleasant – and I will make the effort exclusively because I enjoy the experience of being at the top. Either way, the only thing I care about is the experience of being at the top – seeing the view from there, enjoying the silence, feeling the air in my lungs.
3. I hate to climb but I do it for the result-story: being able to tell myself that I’m a great climber.
In case #3, the urge to tell myself, “I am a great climber who has reached the summit of Everest!” is the only reason I am doing the climb.
In case #3, climbing for the result-story, I climb because I am chasing an identity-story that will come from having reached the top through my own strength. This way, I can brag and say that I’m a great climber – I want the identity-story component of the experience. I can’t take a helicopter to the top. I have to have the unpleasant experience of climbing in order to claim the identity-story component of the result. It’s about ego and getting to say “I am a great climber.”
In order to distinguish between #2 and #3 – between doing it for the experience of the result itself versus the identity-story component of the result, we have to reframe the result as an experience.
Suppose I describe the event by telling myself, “I am a great climber because I reached the summit of Everest, and my friends therefore see me as cool.” Then, I could instead try to reframe the event as an experience only, saying to myself, for example, “I had the experience of reaching the summit of Everest. I then had the experience of feeling cool in my friends’ eyes because of it.” This shift in perspective helps us understand whether the effort of climbing Everest is worth the experience it brings without the distortion of stories.
We reframe the result, being at the summit, as a pure experience: “I had the experience of being at the summit, then I had the experience of sharing it with my friends.” By considering the experience itself – without the distortion caused by stories – we can now ask: Is the result worth the effort, or does it appear worthwhile only because of the distortions?
Sometimes people do things they don’t enjoy even without stories and distortions, such as working in a coal mine. But if they don’t enjoy a given experience, why would they do it? Because they value the result – like the paycheck – more than they dislike the discomfort of the work.
So we ask, do we value the result because it is an experience we want, or do we value the result because of the distortions caused by a story?
If we start out saying, “If I climb Everest, I will be a great climber and all my friends will see me as cool,” we recognize that as a story of identity. We must reframe it as an experience only: “I had the experience of reaching the summit” and “I had the experience of my friends saying nice things about me.” It may be a nice experience to hear it, but not because you believe it. That second experience (the experience of my friends saying nice things to me) may still have a lingering amount of identity-story component attached to it, so you reframe it again: “I had the experience of reaching the summit, and I had the experience of sharing a nice experience with my friends.”
Now you are dealing with the experiences themselves, not the story and, at this point, you can examine the situation free from distortions: “Is it worth this effort to have these experiences – the climb, the summit, and sharing it with your friends?” Maybe yes, maybe no. But now you’re deciding based on the experience itself, not on an identity story or any other story.
When you reframe what happens as experience, your perspective changes. You strip away the story-components and the distortions they produce, and you can finally ask, “Is the effort worth the experience it brings?”
If, when you strip away the story components and the distortions they produce, the motivation disappears, then it indicates that the motivation was based exclusively on a story: once you remove the story, the experience alone isn’t enough motivation to sustain the effort.
With the question “to what end? / what’s the point?” we therefore seek to weaken motivation and reduce the impact of stories in cases where an action is undertaken solely for the result, rather than for the process. This weakening occurs by reframing the event in terms of pure experience, stripping away any story component.
When we are motivated by result only, that motivation may be caused by a story. When that happens, dismantling the story weakens the identity-story part of motivation.
Let’s say you climb Everest not exclusively because you like sitting at the top, looking at the view, and enjoying the fresh air.
In that case, we have to reframe the result as experience only. By looking at the result as experience only, you can reveal the presence of a story. In this case, it may be a story of identity: “If I succeed in climbing Everest, then I’m a great climber.” By dismantling that story, you strip away the story-component of the motivation. Now you can ask yourself, “Do I like sitting at the top and enjoying the view, or do I just want to tell myself that I am a great climber?”
When you eradicate the identity-related motivation that comes from the story-component, you reduce distortion. You can then decide, with less distortion, if you are really willing to do something, or if you would be doing it only for the story.
“Why Not?”
When we decide to do something, we usually consider the reasons that might drive us to take that action. If we don’t find valid reasons, we usually choose not to take the action.
In general there is a bias toward inaction, and usually we don’t do something unless there is a reason for action. For example, you don’t stand up from your chair unless there is a reason to do so. That tendency to stay seated is a bias toward “not doing.”
However, we could look at things from the opposite perspective, by asking “why not?” This can be seen as a method for investigating the presence of “I shouldn’t” stories as a cause of inaction, rather than “I don’t want to” stories. Actions driven by “I shouldn’t,” unlike those driven by “I don’t want to,” are fueled by stories, since they impose limitations that do not reflect a person’s real desires.
When you don’t do something, there may be two reasons:
Option 1, You don’t want to do it.
Option 2, You think you shouldn’t do it, and the “shouldn’t” is based on a story.
For example, if I decided to make becoming number one in a sport my top priority, I might choose to give misleading advice to friends competing against me, to push them down the rankings. So, there could be a conflict between the desire to be number one and the belief that we should not give misleading advice to friends.
Here, I must rank my preferences.
I have to ask myself, “Is it worth lying to my friends in order to become number one?” If my preference is being number one, and I prefer being number one to having friends, then, yes, it is worth lying to my friends in order to become number one.
However, stories can create distortion, and in this case there may be a story – not a preference – that says, “I shouldn’t lie to my friends.” So then I ask “why not?” which can reveal a story of “shouldn’t” that was hidden and causing distortions.
At this point, by asking myself, “Why not?” regarding giving misleading advice to friends, I could discard the “I shouldn’t” story and consider whether what matters more to me is the desire to be number one or the desire to be friends with my competitors.
After removing the “I shouldn’t” story, I can now look at the preferences without distortion and rank them. I am now considering my preference – what I actually want – and nothing else. This shift is important: it doesn’t mean I automatically decide to lie, but that I now clearly understand my motivations, free of distortions so that I can make a decision based purely on preference.
In other words, we may discover that behind the decision to become number one in a given sport lies an “I want” that justifies the effort/sacrifice/compromise to lie to our friends. In contrast, behind the refusal to give misleading advice to competitor-friends there may be only an “I shouldn’t” story, rather than a genuine “I don’t want.”
After we remove the stories, there are only two possibilities.
The first is that I prioritize being number one.
Behind this preference, there is an “I want.” “I want to be first,” is how I feel, and that’s all there is to it.
The second is that I prioritize having friends.
It may be that not lying to my friends is what I actually want because my preference is I want to have friends. But it could also be that this is not my real preference – it is just a story that “I shouldn’t” lie to my friends. By removing stories, I will be able to see my preferences clearly, rank them, and decide exclusively based on my preference, without any distortions from stories.
This question (“why not?”) therefore assesses whether what blocks the action is a story of “I shouldn’t” or “I don’t want.” If it is an “I don’t want,” the matter is settled. If, on the other hand, we are dealing with an “I shouldn’t,” then we need to assess whether behind this story lies an “I want,” which could lead to action, or an “I don’t want,” which would not lead to action.
The fact that there is a story of “shouldn’t” doesn’t guarantee that you actually “do want” something. When you remove the story of “shouldn’t,” then you discover if you actually wanted to do something or not. For example, there may be a story that you “shouldn’t” lie to your friends. After you remove the story, you may then discover that you still don’t want to lie to your friends – that this actually had been your preference all along, it was just hidden by the story. Or you could discover that you are willing to lie.
Removing the story does not mean you are definitely going to lie. Removing the story just allows you to recognize the preference that was hiding behind the story so that now you can act on the preference and freely decide whether or not to lie.
Two Questions to Examine What Motivates Our Decisions
In conclusion, both the question “to what end? / what’s the point?” and the question “why not?” can serve as valid methods for examining the reasons and stories underlying our decisions, and for choosing, in light of these two approaches, whether or not to take a given initiative.
Together, these questions help me reduce the distortion to see my motives more clearly:
“To what end?” allows you to assess if the experience without the story is worth the effort.
“Why not?” allows you to uncover if it’s a preference or a story.