The cookie jar

Hey Friend,

There’s this guy named David Goggins. He’s more than a little insane, being an ex-Navy SEAL, ultra-marathoner, and overall badass. There’s a lot I’ve learned about discipline, suffering, and the power of the mind from David, but there’s one thing I want to talk about today: the cookie jar.

David shares the concept of the “cookie jar” in his first book, Can’t Hurt Me, which refers to a collection of particular types of memories: moments when you did something you did not think you could do.

He shares this concept in the context of pushing your body physically, so an example would be running further than you ever imagined you could. But the metaphor goes far beyond physical challenges and achievements.

Most of us have had countless experiences navigating something that we found intimidating, whether it be a new job, a difficult conversation, a breakup, or the loss of a loved one.

I think all of these deserve to be in the cookie jar, too.

The cookie jar is the source of confidence, as confidence is believing you’re capable of something, usually because you’ve handled it (or something similar) before.

Connecting this to my previous letter, the cookie jar is also crucial in making courageous decisions. By remembering where we’ve been and the difficult things we’ve navigated, we can make decisions knowing that we’ll figure out the unknowns when we need to. We don’t have to protect ourselves as much or be afraid of the “what ifs,” which is essential for being courageous. (I think solo travel helps a lot with this.)

The cookie jar can be used not only for confidence, but also for gratitude.

I once led a meditation asking people to reflect on everything they had in their lives that they once craved. This could be the car they drove, the amount of money they had, a relationship, a degree, a job, etc. Once they remembered they did not always have these things, they felt a wave of gratitude for them.

We’re all aware of our current dreams, but we forget our past dreams that have already been fulfilled.

I used to dream of living the digital nomad lifestyle, to make a few thousands dollars per month from my laptop with the freedom to go wherever I wanted, when I wanted. I did it. And now I’m used to it, just like almost everything else in my life.

At the core of the cookie jar is remembrance. It calls us to not forget our pasts but to actively use them to move forward, to take even the difficult memories and find a way for them to support as opposed to obstruct.

The past is what makes us who we are, and not in a restrictive sense. It makes us unique. It’s what colors all of our future accomplishments and gives them texture. It’s what we build on to weave a personal tale of meaning for our lives.

To not remember is to deny ourselves.

I feel myself gazing down the rabbit hole of all the places this could go, so I’m going to stop myself there before I’m a pair of shoes sticking out of the ground with no way out.

I hope this letter helped you remember and find a little more confidence, gratitude, and meaning in your own story.

I’m not great at thinking about the past, so I might need this kind of reminder more often than most. I’m excited to be starting therapy again and diving more into my own past, but more on that another time.

For now, a prompt for reflection: what’s in your cookie jar?

Until next week.

Take care,
Ryan