This year I’ve declared an ambition to be ruthless. Actively exhorting myself towards it — and feeling downright disappointed when I don’t measure up.
It makes perfect sense to me, but I get dodgy looks whenever I mention this to others.
Shouldn’t you be aiming for something ‘nice’ like “patient”, “playful”, “kind”, or “bold”? They say.
And I bet they’re thinking (like I still do sometimes) that it’s always the villain who’s ruthless — never the hero.
Those other qualities are all great — they’re things I aspire to. More importantly, though, I often live up to those ideas.
But I’ve realised I often have something important missing that constantly escapes my grasp. And ‘ruthless’ seems to be my best way of invoking it so I can hopefully call it more into being in my life. So I’m leaning into it as hard as I can.
Essentially, this started out as a planned ‘overcorrection’. When you constantly miss a target to the left it’s no good shifting your aim slightly right. You’ll inevitably find that you don’t adjust far enough.
The key is to deliberately aim way too far to the right. When you can miss the target on both sides then hitting it becomes just a matter of tweaking things within your existing possibilities.
So I thought that the more I can hit the cold, unfeeling essence of pure ruthlessness, the more I’ll have the ability to dial in the balance I actually want later.
But, as I’ve sat and explored its uses, I’ve found there are some pretty ‘pure’ strains of ruthless that are kind and generous acts in themselves…
One of the best ways to fail is to spread yourself too thin. To take on more and more stuff until you’re overwhelmed. Ruthlessness in this instance is not about being uncaring — it’s simple acceptance of the reality of our finite capabilities.
So choosing not to be ruthless here is literally to be deluded. You’re either failing to perceive reality in the first place; or you recognise reality but choose to ignore it.
This doesn’t just apply to what we choose to start. I want to be more ruthless in stopping too.
Sticking with tasks that we don’t have the courage to quit is one of the most common and damaging failures. That’s why I’ve got to be ruthless — it’s the way I’ve found to protect myself from that outcome. You see, I hate quitting because it feels like I’m wimping out. Describing it as ruthless turns that negative act of slinking away into a purposeful saunter off the stage with my head held high (plus maybe a cheeky knowing wink to the audience).
Without this attitude I’m left trying to spin too many plates. Ruthless is deliberately letting the runts of the litter fall off their sticks and smash on the ground. But it’s the kind choice in the end. It gives the others a better chance of surviving.
So, although it feels “coldly logical”, my quest for ruthless starts out from a warm, emotional place. But I’ve seen that it’s those very positive emotions that lead me off track in the moments that matter. Ruthless here is just my way of taking the tough intermediate actions that produce more generous and compassionate long-term outcomes.
When I try and be ‘nice’ by being everything to to everyone then I end up giving no-one my best. You can do anything you want, but you can’t do everything. You’ve got to make a decision.
You can keep boundless possibilities open for as long as you like. But in order to finish anything you’ve got to cut the alternatives off. Kill all your potential darlings dead with a single blow and never look back.