Disclaimer: This reflection is derived from my notes from Andrew Huberman’s “Huberman Lab Podcast” podcast titled “How to Overcome Inner Resistance | Steven Pressfield”. It has been enriched by my interest in and experience with the subject, along with a brainstorming session with AI. AI generated the final output, and I have carefully reviewed it to ensure accuracy, relevance, and adherence to the key takeaways and lessons I drew from this episode.

Introduction

If you make things—words, code, music, products—you’ve met the shapeshifter that stalks every ambitious project: Resistance. It dresses up as procrastination, perfectionism, busywork, self-doubt, and a suspicious urge to reorganize your sock drawer. This post distills a long, generous conversation between Andrew Huberman and author Steven Pressfield into a practical, humane playbook: how to recognize Resistance, flip the “pro” switch, and build a day that ships.

1) Resistance is proportional to the importance of the work

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: the more a project matters to your growth, the stronger the Resistance you’ll feel. That fear you’re reading as a red light? It’s a compass needle pointing toward the right mountain. Pressfield frames it as a simple rule of thumb—choose the thing you’re most afraid of, because the size of the “shadow” (Resistance) scales with the size of the tree (your dream).

The modern world supercharges this force. The “free” stuff—feeds, alerts, frictionless entertainment—extracts payment in time, attention, and eventually soul. It’s never been harder to walk to the creative chair without falling into a dopamine pothole. Recognizing that terrain isn’t cynicism; it’s situational awareness.

2) Turning Pro is a decision, not a diploma

“Professional” doesn’t mean humorless or corporate. It means you do the work regardless of mood. Weather changes; climate persists. Pressfield’s phrase “turning pro” is a mental switch you can flip today—no course, no certification, just a commitment to behave like the kind of person who ships.

There’s a neat identity trick here: think of yourself as a two-part company. Part A is the CEO (protects time, pitches ideas). Part B is the Worker (executes without drama). Wear the right hat at the right moment, and you reduce ego noise. You also stop pathologizing yesterday’s missteps—those were amateur habits; today you act like a pro.

3) Build a day that resists Resistance

Short, intense blocks beat heroic marathons. Many seasoned creatives get as much done in two focused hours as they used to in four. Stop when you hit diminishing returns; you’re training a system, not serving a sentence.

Start and stop on purpose. Borrow the Hemingway trick: end a session when you already know the next line or step. Tomorrow’s start becomes downhill.

Standardize the environment. Phone stays out (unless it’s purely a capture tool), internet off, music off. The soundscape is your breathing and the clack of keys. Boring by design; effective by necessity.

Keep the schedule simple. Aim for roughly the same window each day, with minor flex when life elbows in. Routines aren’t handcuffs; they’re guardrails.

4) Don’t trust your memory—capture whispers

Most good ideas don’t debut at your desk. They wander in while you’re driving, showering, or doing chores—then vanish like dreams if you don’t catch them. Dictate to your phone. Jot the phrase. Treat the muse like a shy bird: move gently, capture quickly.

A simple habit loop: away-from-desk spark → immediate capture → park for later → integrate next session. You’re not “working” all day, but you are staying open for deliveries.

5) Rituals that lower the threshold

Creative practice isn’t purely mystical or purely mechanical—it’s both. Many makers “invoke the muse” not as superstition, but as ego-management: a way to step aside and let the work move through. Pair that with a concrete start ritual—same seat, same first move, same two-minute cue—and you’ve got a reliable on-ramp from everyday noise into focused flow.

6) The human factor: loved ones, critics, and the inner heckler

Resistance often borrows the voices closest to us. Friends and family might—out of their own fear—question your new endeavor, or remind you of the comfort you’re risking. Expect it with compassion and keep going. The real opponent is the inner chorus that says, Who are you to do this? Label it and return to the next action.

7) The 90-minute “Pro” Template (steal this)

• Minute 0–2: Start ritual. Sit. One line to yourself: Today I do the work.
• Minutes 2–60: Deep block on a single task. Internet off. Music off. When you know the next step, stop.
• Minutes 60–70: Micro-reset that uses your body, not your screen.
• Minutes 70–90: Short second block. Close by writing one sentence: Tomorrow I begin with…

If you only have a couple of hours in the day? Welcome to the club. You’re still on the field with full-time pros. The point is consistency, not total hours logged.

8) Debugging your Resistance (common symptoms → counter-moves)

• Symptom: “I’ll just check one thing first.”
  Fix: Pre-commit to a no-internet window. Router off, or use a blocker. Keep phone only for voice memos.
• Symptom: Endless polishing.
  Fix: Define “done” upfront: e.g., one pass that hits structure, one pass for clarity—then ship. Leave craft upgrades for the next draft/day.
• Symptom: Can’t start.
  Fix: Stop the previous session mid-line when you know what’s next. Future-you will bless past-you.
• Symptom: Burnout after long sessions.
  Fix: Favor shorter, sharper bouts. Quit at the first reliable signs of slop—typos, rereads, mental fog.

9) Why this works (the nerdy bit)

Repeated, deliberate sessions train your nervous system to recruit attention on command. Like strength training, the early sets—when you’re freshest—do most of the adaptation. This is why a tight hour of true depth often beats a meandering afternoon. Intensity + repetition rewires your ability to focus, which compounds over months into output and skill.

10) A closing note from the muse & the mechanic

Hold both sides of the craft. On the mechanic side: schedules, word counts, draft discipline, environmental constraints. On the muse side: humility toward where ideas come from and the willingness to be a conduit. If that sounds lofty, anchor it in the smallest possible action: show up, invoke, and move one real unit forward today. Then stop—before you hate it—and leave a breadcrumb for tomorrow.

Conclusion: Try this today

Write one sentence that scares you because it points at the work you actually need to do. That’s your compass heading. Now, 25 minutes offline. One step. Then walk away with the next step already cued. Repeat until your life looks suspiciously like a body of work.