How to Engineer an Obsession

Why passion requires a different toolkit than a standard New Year's resolution.

Illustration by Mihajlo Stojanovic

"Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive." — Howard Thurman

Before I started writing about the psychology of passion, my life revolved entirely around fitness.

I spent 15 years obsessed with human performance. I know exactly how to get someone to start a new gym habit (start slow, stop the black-and-white thinking, schedule it). I also know exactly why people fall off the wagon three weeks into January (no plan, too much intensity too soon, no “why”).

But in recent years, I’ve been increasingly fascinated by a different question: How do you build a new passion into your life?

It is easy to assume that building a passion requires the same toolkit as building a habit. But I think there is a subtle — and critical — difference.

When we talk about “good habits,” we are usually talking about “Push” activities. These are the things we know we should be doing: stretching, flossing more, doing our taxes. They are forms of maintenance. We have to “push” ourselves to do them. We do them because we want to be responsible, functional human beings.

Passions, on the other hand, are “Pull” activities.

These are the things that pique your curiosity. The topics that send you down internet rabbit holes at 1:00 AM. The activities where you lose track of time, not because you are “disciplined,” but because you are captivated. They pull us in.

Here is the problem: Because passions rarely feel like a “have to,” most adults don’t prioritize them. When life gets busy, the “Push” activities (work, laundry, exercise) bully the “Pull” activities out of the schedule. We treat passion as a luxury item — something we’ll get to after the chores are done.

But this is a big mistake. According to research from passion researcher Robert Vallerand, people who prioritize passions aren’t just having more fun — they are mentally and physically healthier, have stronger social connections, and actually live longer. Passion isn’t a bonus; it’s a vital nutrient.

So, how do we make space for it? We have to treat the “Pull” of passion with the same structural respect we give our “Push” habits.

Here’s how to engineer a new obsession, based on behavioral research and 15 years in the fitness trenches:

1. Build the Container First

It is easy to believe that if you’re truly passionate, the fire will carry you through everything. We think that if we just find the “perfect fit,” the grit will take care of itself.

But that is rarely how it works. Passion is a volatile fuel. It evaporates. Without a solid container to hold it, the spark eventually burns out.

When I decided to get serious about Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, I didn’t rely on willpower. I didn’t decide to show up “when I felt like it.” I built a container. I found a gym nearby and committed to a schedule that scared me a little: training twice a day, nearly every day. I created an extreme routine: Alarm at 5:45 a.m. Write. Train. Eat. Work. Train again. Sleep.

The structure worked. The routine and the accountability kept me going on the days when the feeling of being “on fire” vanished.

Of course, you don’t need to train twice a day to pursue a passion. But you do need to protect the time.

Here is how to build your own container:

• Leave the house (The “Third Space” Rule): Passion rarely survives on the couch where you also watch Netflix and take a nap. Go to a studio, a library, or a park. Your brain needs a visual shift: We are doing the thing now.

• Pay for it (Skin in the Game): Free habits are easy to break. We value what we pay for. Book a class, rent a desk, or hire a coach. Put enough money on the line that skipping a session stings a little.

• Set a “Professional” Schedule: Don’t try to fit your passion into the cracks of your day. Treat it like a dentist appointment or a client meeting. If it’s Tuesday at 6:00 PM, you are unavailable to the rest of the world. No apologies.

2. Don’t Set a Goal. Design a Quest.

If 15 years in the fitness industry has taught me one thing, it’s this: vague goals do not stick.

People who tell me they want to “lose ten pounds” or “get in shape” rarely sustain it. And if they do, they usually gain it back the moment the scale hits the number. Why? Because it’s a chore. It’s a subtraction. It’s focusing on what you want to lose, not what you want to do.

Before I knew a thing about behavioral psychology, I saw this pattern intuitively: The people who stuck around were the ones who turned their goal into a Quest.

They stopped focusing on the scale and started focusing on an adventure. They didn’t want to “exercise”; they wanted to hike Kilimanjaro, surf in Costa Rica, or compete in their first amateur boxing match.

There is research to back this up. Performance goals (what you can do) are infinitely more motivating than aesthetic goals (how you look). They create a positive feedback loop of competence. But more importantly, they build Identity.

A “Goal” is something you do. A “Quest” changes who you are.

When you sign up for a race, you stop being “someone trying to run more” and start being a “runner.” When you commit to a gallery showing, you stop being “someone who likes to paint” and become an “artist.”

Here is how to design your Quest:

• Pick a “Boss Battle”: A quest needs a climax. Don’t just “learn Spanish.” Book a trip to Mexico City in six months where you commit to only speaking Spanish. Don’t just “learn to bake.” Commit to baking the birthday cake for your best friend’s party. Give yourself a deadline with real-world stakes.

• Chase “Scary-Fun”: In psychology, we call this eustress — the good kind of stress. Your quest should feel 80% exciting and 20% terrifying. If you aren’t a little bit afraid of embarrassing yourself, the quest isn’t big enough to hold your attention for long.

• Measure Skill, Not Outcome: Stop tracking the lagging indicators (weight, followers, subscribers). Track the leading indicators (miles run, pages written, hours on the mat). You can’t control the outcome, but you can control the mastery.

3. Find Your “Scenius”

In fitness, we have a saying: “You can’t out-exercise a bad diet.” In passion, the rule is similar: You can’t out-willpower a bad environment.

If you are trying to write a novel, but you spend all your time with people who think reading is boring, you are swimming upstream. If you want to train for a triathlon, but your friends’ idea of cardio is a bar crawl, you will eventually burn out from the mismatch.

We often think of passion as a solitary pursuit — the lonely artist in the studio, the writer in the cabin. But that is largely a myth. Most great breakthroughs happen in clusters.

Musician Brian Eno calls this “Scenius”—the communal form of genius. It’s the idea that intelligence and creative energy aren’t just individual traits; they are generated by the scene you are in.

When I walked into that Jiu-Jitsu gym, I wasn’t just looking for a mat. I was looking for a room full of people who were vibrating at the frequency I wanted to be on. I needed to be around people where “obsessing over details” was the norm, not the exception.

How to find your Scenius:

• Audit Your Inputs: You become the average of the five people you spend the most time with. If you can’t change your friends yet, change your digital inputs. Follow accounts that obsess over your craft. Listen to podcasts that speak the language. Curate a digital Scenius until you find a physical one. (And read books about other passionate people.)

• Go Where the Obsession Is: Don’t just take a class; look for the community. Does the writing workshop have a coffee hour afterward? Does the run club get breakfast? The “passion” often lives in the hang-out time after the activity.

• Draft a “Co-Conspirator”: If you can’t find a group, convince one friend to join you. It’s harder to skip a session when you know someone is waiting for you in the parking lot. (My friend Martin Dasko is a master of this.)

4. Sign a Six-Month Contract

Every new passion follows a predictable curve:

1. The Honeymoon: Everything is new and exciting. You are learning fast. Dopamine is high. You feel on fire.

2. The Dip: The novelty wears off. You stop improving every session. You realize how much you don’t know. The work becomes… work.

This is where 90% of people quit. They interpret the boredom or the frustration as a sign that “this isn’t for me.”

But as I wrote about here, this friction isn’t a sign to stop. It’s the price of entry for long-term passion and mastery.

To bridge the gap between “Newbie” and “Regular,” you need a contract with yourself.

The Strategy: Give yourself a mandatory timeline. When I coach others who want to start a new pursuit, I usually get them to commit to a six-month contract. Together, we decide, in advance, that they are not allowed to quit before that date, no matter how frustrated, bored, or self-doubting they feel.

You can choose your length of course, and give yourself a little time to experiment first — there’s no need to stick with something you hate.

But by pre-deciding, you remove the daily negotiation. You don’t have to ask “Do I still like this?” You just look at the calendar. If it hasn’t been six months, you go.

The Logistics of Passion

It might seem unromantic to apply this much logic to something as soulful as passion. We want it to feel like a lightning bolt — sudden, effortless, and magic.

But fortunately, that is rarely how passion works.

I say “fortunately” because lightning is unreliable. You can’t engineer a weather event. Thankfully, passion is less of a chance occurrence and more of a choice — a decision to build something into your life that gives you energy and wakes you up. And because it is a choice, you can create the logistics around it. You can engineer an obsession.

The “Push” habits keep your life running. They ensure the bills are paid and your teeth are clean (my dad, a retired dentist, would be happy about this). But the “Pull” activities? They are what make our lives worth living. They are the difference between merely functioning and actually feeling alive.

So don’t wait for the lightning. Build the container. Design the quest. Find your people.

And then, get to work.

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