This post is a bite-sized 4-minute snack.
I read about this concept a while back in Tim Ferris's book Tools of Titans. It's a powerful analogy about chasing the right targets and something that has stuck with me.
In the usual flyby manner, I turned it into a short story for dramatic effect and a bit of a twist.
Enjoy!
A long time ago, in the vast expanses of the Serengeti, lived a mighty lion. As each day began anew, the sun rose, painting the sky in energetic hues. The lion would greet the dawn with a resounding roar that echoed across the plains, stirring fear into the hearts of all who heard it.
One day, as was his routine, the lion was on his way to find some fare when suddenly, out of nowhere, he encountered a scurrying little mouse in the wild. Unable to resist the thrill of the chase, the lion sprung into action, muscles straining as he charged after the tiny creature. The mouse let out a high-pitched squeak that pierced the silence of the Serengeti. After an exhausting chase, the lion finally captured the mouse, only to not quite realize that he was even more famished than before.
Days turned into weeks, each passing day a mirror of the last. More mice showed up, and the lion couldn't resist chasing them. He lost sight of the prize entirely. His once awe-inspiring strength was waning, and the lion found himself growing weaker and weaker. Each day, he chased the mice relentlessly, depleting his energy reserves until he was nothing but a shadow of the fearsome creature he once was. His eyes, once bright and alert, were now dull and tired. He was no longer the king of the plains; instead, he became a grumpy, fatigued beast.
In his worn-out condition, he saw the urgency for change. The thrill of chasing the mice, while mildly rewarding, was like savoring a sliver of cheese when he was in need of the entire block — something substantial that could replenish his energy.
He crawled onto the nearest watering hole in search of some water. He could barely make it; his body weakened. Before being able to quench his thirst, he saw a giant antelope lurking nearby. This was it, he realized. He mustered all his remaining strength and channeled it into hunting the antelope. But, to no avail, the lion passed out from exhaustion.
He grappled back to wakefulness once more, his body aching as it awakened from a restless slumber. Above him, the vultures were already circling ominously, anticipating his downfall. His energy tank was near empty, and he knew he was on borrowed time. Suddenly, a horde of tiny field mice appeared, their tiny feet thundering over the dry ground like an animated marching band. This time, the lion kept it together, realizing another chase might very well be his downfall. He waited patiently for another antelope. The hours felt like days, each moment expanding into an eternity of anticipation.
And then, it arrived — a formidable antelope, its majestic form striding confidently across the plains. The lion charged. It was the most intense battle he had ever fought in his life. He almost collapsed, each movement sapping the remaining energy from his limbs. Despite nearing his own demise, he prevailed. After satisfying his hunger, the lion was finally able to get a good night's rest.
From that day on, the lion vowed to always put in the effort to hunt the big antelope first and not get distracted by the tiny field mice. He still occasionally chased field mice, but only after he had satisfied his hunger. This was now more of a hobby or sport rather than his unforeseen primary vocation.
The lion learned a valuable lesson about prioritizing.
Big things first, little things second.
With this newfound wisdom, he lived a long and fulfilled life.
As the lion learned— while the field mice might be an easy and fun target, chasing them drained his energy and put him in a caloric deficit. He might be proud for a while, but eventually, the lion would starve. On the other hand, hunting an antelope was significantly higher effort. But the reward was also much, much greater, and the lion would be fulfilled for a long time.
The concept applies to the stuff we prioritize in our lives as well. We might not live in the wild and have to outrun hungry lions, but we all have the same amount of time and energy in a day. Are we spending those resources chasing the small stuff or going after the big wins? While chasing mice might be satisfying and easy in the short term, it's the big antelope that move things forward in the long term.
Field Mice could also be the little things that drain our energy and don't really add much value, but we still compulsively keep doing— e.g., social media, emails, chats, or any other good'ol form of procrastination. These might give us a short-term rush but are a net negative in the long run. Antelope are the big tasks that make a noticeable impact on our goals and move us forward. These are harder in the short term but significantly more valuable in the long run.
It's the same at a higher level for the projects or businesses we choose to spend our time on. If you have to decide between going for multiple competing ventures, look at the output of each. Which one is closer to the proverbial antelope? Prioritize that first.
Now if we did manage to catch an antelope and have a bunch of spare time and energy, we could go out and chase field mice all we wanted (or perhaps get some deep rest instead). That would be akin to a hobby or sport. Nothing wrong with that, as long as the order doesn't get reversed and the lion isn't still hungry. Otherwise, we’d have a weak and grumpy lion, wouldn't we?
Big things first. Little things second.
The simplest productivity system you could ever come up with.
As simple as it gets.
Ask yourself:
Am I chasing field mice or hunting antelope?
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