Hey.
Just an FYI — I’m in a reflective state writing this.
Most weeks, I want you to walk away with something concrete you can use. Or at least a way to see something differently.
This is me thinking in real time. Think raised eyebrow, eyes gazing out the window. Or, if you really know me, pacing around the room (over and over again).
Someone mentioned the word “pro” recently, and my brain’s been chewing on it for days.
I know this because I’ve started using it in conversation, as if my brain is experimenting with meaning through anecdotes.
Either way, the word is there bouncing around.
What does it actually mean to be a pro? And am I one?
Words have a funny way of mutating over time. I latch onto one, then run it through every possible scenario until it starts to lose its meaning. Just like saying a word so many times you’re convinced you’re saying it wrong.
There’s probably some value in that. There’s definitely some unnecessary overthinking mixed in too.
(If you’re wondering whether that’s a bug or a feature, I’ll just answer with ‘yes’)
So I’ve been pulling on the thread on this the word: pro.
And two definitions come to mind. Both have stuck with me for different reasons.
The first is from The War of Art by Steven Pressfield. I’ve mentioned this book once before.
Here’s how my brain distills/paraphrases his writing:
The professional isn’t defined by credentials or titles, but by commitment. And best understood by comparing a pro to an amateur.
The amateur plays for fun. The pro plays for keeps.
The amateur treats the work as an interest. The pro treats it as a vocation.
The amateur shows up part time. The pro shows up all the time.
What stuck with me this time wasn’t the romance of it, but the discipline. The unsexy idea that being a pro is less about talent and more about showing up when there’s no audience, no applause, and no immediate payoff.
The second comes from Geno Auriemma.
If you don’t know Geno, he’s the longtime head coach of UConn women’s basketball, the most winning coach in the history of the sport.
(I’ll paraphrase…)
A pro, is someone who’s proficient at what they do.
Pros make hard things look easy. And easy things look easy.
Amateurs don’t. They make hard things look hard. And they manage to make easy things look hard too.
It’s not about effort or hours. It’s about fluency.
So now I’m sitting with both.
On one side: commitment. On the other: fluency.
One side: inputs. The other side: outputs.
One without the other feels incomplete.
Commitment without fluency feels clunky. Fluency without commitment feels like wasted potential.
I don’t have a neat conclusion here. Just a growing sense of what it means to be a pro. Based on what I know now, from where I sit.
That’s where my head’s been this week.
Thanks for letting me think out loud.
See you next week.
Be well. Talk soon.
— Peter
P.S. If you have thoughts swirling, think out loud with me. Send me an email. I’d welcome the exchange.
