My Big Idea About Small Ideas
We've become obsessed with big ideas that promise total transformation. You know the ones: the perfect morning routine that will change your life forever, the productivity system that will finally make you efficient… hell, I even tried a seven step “curly girl” method promoted by Elyse Meyers. Which is to say, I watched the first two minutes of a YouTube video before noping out of there, but I wanted to believe that scrunching and plopping my hair would turn me into a better person. These big ideas come with comprehensive frameworks, multi-step processes, and the implicit promise that if you can read the right books, buy the right gear, and implement everything perfectly, your life will finally work.
For many of us, especially the neurodivergent and chronically stressed, the weight of these big ideas feels oppressive, not inspiring. The prospect of having to do something, anything, every day for the rest of your life makes me want to run screaming into the desert, never to be seen again.
That’s why I like small ideas.
Small ideas don't demand loyalty. They don't require you to reshape your identity or overhaul your life. They're intellectual experiments, creative provocations, different ways of seeing that you can try on without commitment. Small ideas ask, "What if I tried riding a bike down the end of the street and back?" Instead of "What if I became a Bike Person?" They suggest, "Maybe I'll put down my phone and get out the watercolor paints" rather than "I am allowed to scroll on my phone for a maximum of 30 minutes per day, and only after dinner and the dishes are done."
Big ideas and daily routines offer the seductive illusion that with enough structure and self-discipline, we can somehow avoid having to grapple with anything messy, uncertain, or sad. This way of thinking sends the message that if we are not constantly optimizing ourselves, or radiating benevolent joy, there is something wrong with us.
Oliver Burke, author of Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals, talked about this on a recent episode of the podcast The Happiness Lab with Dr. Laurie Santos.
“The really powerful skill to develop, I think, is the … willingness to say what if I just meditate for ten minutes? What if I just went for a brisk walk? What if I just picked up the phone and talked to the long lost friend? With no confidence that I would do it well, no certainty that I’ll do it every day for the rest of my life, no guarantee that it’s going to turn me into the kind of person who does that kind of thing all the time. But it’s still worth more than all those things combined because it actually happened in reality”
Small ideas invite play rather than devotion. They spark curiosity rather than certainty. They make space for questions like "What if?" instead of confident declarations about How Things Are. They give us permission to start where we are, to try things without committing to them forever, to learn through direct experience rather than the safe distance of endless consumption. Small ideas acknowledge that doing something once, imperfectly, is worth more than all the perfect plans we abandon before we really get started.
So, that’s the idea behind Wonder Work. Sharing small ideas creates regular opportunities to explore what it feels like to shift our perspective, even if it’s just for five minutes. Curiosity can be practiced. Empathy is the natural outcome of seeing something from a different point of view.
In times of overwhelming change and uncertainty, we often grasp for big ideas that promise to make sense of everything. But real resilience comes from maintaining flexibility in our thinking — from being able to adapt our understanding as new information emerges. If there’s a small idea that made a big difference in your life, I want to hear about it!
