Building things can engage us at a primal level of humanity

Humans have always been exquisite tool makers.

Roughly two million years ago, our species first learned how to use objects to extend their ability to modify features of surrounding environments. Such crude but useful implements became the critical step in the evolution of mankind.

How else do you think we climbed to the top of the food chain? Certainly wasn’t our rugged good looks or winning personality.

But from stone to bone to wood to metal, from ideas to words to pixels to bits, there is nothing we humans can’t turn into some kind of device. Hell, even if the tool we build only helps us, that’s still a win.

There’s no shame in exploiting a market of none. Because building things can engage us at a primal level of humanity that reminds us, we’re all creators. That’s a profoundly empowering feeling. It’s more than a skill, it’s an inheritance.

And I don’t mean to objectify everything in life as yet another object to be manipulated for efficiency and utility. I just think there’s something uniquely satisfying and deeply spiritual about making a thing, a tool fit to our exact specifications, which extends our ability to modify features of our surrounding environment.

Particularly when there’s no overhead. That’s my favorite kind of tool. The one that costs no money, takes up zero space, and doesn’t consume any energy.

I like tools that are conceptual in nature, but are nonetheless real, usable and powerful. Because then you can use them anytime, anywhere. There are no barriers to operation.

I remember at the beginning of the pandemic, like most people, I found myself with a huge surplus time on my hands. To the point that I started feeling guilty about not contributing enough to a world that was in so much pain. And so, I leveraged the confluence of excess time and extreme emotion into an ambitious toolmaking project.

The first phase was spending six weeks taking inventory of all my creative tools. I codified all the mindsets, approaches, behaviors and assets that I had been using the past twenty plus years in my professional endeavors.

How, specifically, did get so damn prolific? Some tools were questions, others were checklists or models, and others were interventions. Tons of practices, techniques, rituals, resources and more. Particular procedures that I used regularly, either intentionally or accidentally, for addressing and accomplishing tasks in my work.

Once the list was complete, there must have been four hundred tools. Holy smokes, I thought to myself. There’s a lot value here, and not just for me. I bet other creative people would find these tools helpful.

So I spent the next six months converting my proprietary taxonomy into a software as a service product. Prolific became the first framework for personal creativity management. I had a blast, felt insanely proud of this new project, and even acquired a nice little pool of users who paid me real money to use it.

My software also led to a new series of books and a host of other professional opportunities that couldn’t have materialized any other way.

But as I mentioned, that was only phase one of my toolmaking project. Over the course of the next year, while spreading the gospel about my software, I realized something. This toolkit was incomplete. Prolific was only the beginning. There were so many other domains of my life, that had nothing to do with creative work, for which I also had numerous tools.

From relationships to mental health struggles to spiritual practices to managing change, I was just scratching the surface here. This led to me spending another six months codifying the remainder of my tools according to the same taxonomy.

Mindsets, approaches, behaviors and assets that I used to create a fulfilling life.

Some tools were attitudes, some were algorithms, while others were filters and tricks. But all of them were specific ways in which I acted or conducted myself. I had hundreds of hacks, formulas and narratives that helped me change my patterns and manage emotions more systematically. More tools to equip me to navigate this absurd, complex and confusing sideshow called life.

In fact, with so many coping methods in my inventory, I once again decided to formalize them. Not as another software product, but as a simple database for quick and easy reference. Almost like a wiki for my own life. One that I could update regularly with new additions.

The best part was, I started keeping this database open as a browser tab on one of my external monitors. It never left my line of site. As if to encourage me throughout the day, psst, you’re going to be okay because you trust your resources. You can handle anything this world throws at you. These are the tools upon which you can build a new edifice, so your suffering can be gradually eliminated.

Do you have any ideas how empowering that is? How could a person become anything but with resilient with those resources as wind at their back?

Sure, the tools aren’t perfect, and they don’t always work. But wow, this kit was like having an artificial intelligence algorithm of my own consciousness. What started out as an exercise to pass the time during the pandemic, grew into a new business line, and more importantly, organically evolved into this mental, emotional and spiritual operating system for my daily life.

What’s your toolkit? How do you extend your ability to modify the features of your surrounding environment?

If you’re looking to level up your life experience, claim your toolmaking power. Start a habit of building things to your exact specifications.

Tools that you can use anytime anywhere. It’s invaluable to feel like you have solid resources to help you decide what to do and where to turn when things get tough.

What’s the operating system for your daily life?