In Defense of Doing the Same Thing Over and Over Again
“The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.”
This saying is widely attributed to Albert Einstein, but it’s a misattribution. While the quote is commonly used and often resonates with people, it’s not actually something Einstein said. The quote is believed to have originated in Narcotics Anonymous literature around 1980, though the idea has been traced back to the nineteenth century. Despite its misattribution, the saying highlights a common human tendency to repeat ineffective behaviors and the difficulty of changing course even when outcomes are consistently negative.
Well, whoever actually came up with that cliché clearly never tried to learn how to juggle.
Because if repeating the same action and expecting a different result is the definition of insanity, then every toddler learning to walk, every musician practicing scales, and every kid tossing tennis balls in living rooms around the world is straight-up bonkers.
Let me take you back to 1992. I was twelve years old, spending the night at a friend’s house. His older brother could juggle — three tennis balls, nothing fancy, but to me, it was wizardry. He showed me the basic cascade pattern and then, like a magician disappearing into the ether, he went to bed.
I made the same “mistake” hundreds of times. And then, somewhere around 3 a.m., something shifted. I caught all three. Not just once, but again, and then again. I had learned.
By morning, I was a juggler. I could do the basic three ball pattern. Within a week I was juggling in several patterns. In a few months I was juggling four balls. By age fifteen, I was touring the country. By eighteen, I had performed in thirty-eight states.
In the decades since that sleepless night, I’ve taught hundreds of people to juggle. The patterns are remarkably consistent. It takes most people around nine hours to become competent jugglers — about the same time it took me.
What fascinates me is how predictable the learning process is. Within minutes of starting, I can identify someone’s dominant hand simply by observing their second throw. Our brains get locked into patterns of dominance, and breaking free from that neurological preference becomes its own struggle. The non-dominant hand wants to mirror the dominant one, creating an awkward rhythm that takes hours to overcome.
But that doesn’t make the process any less worthwhile — just more of an endeavor. Anything worth doing is worth the struggle.
So much for insanity.
The Brain Behind the Balls
Modern neuroscience backs this up: repeating mistakes isn’t madness. It’s learning. Real, neurological rewiring. What looks like failure on the outside is often success happening in the background — one synapse at a time.
Here’s what’s really going on: mistake repetition is part of learning. Cognitive science shows we often repeat errors not because we’re irrational, but because our brains use mental shortcuts (heuristics) that take time to reprogram. Familiar patterns are sticky. We cling to what’s known, even if it’s flawed, because the brain favors the familiar.
That’s not insanity. That’s default programming.
Errors trigger growth. Research from Johns Hopkins shows that when we make and correct mistakes, our memory actually improves. Think of each mistake as a little note in your brain’s training montage.
You’re not failing. You’re training.
Why Mistakes Stick — and How to Unstick Them
We all have our own “dropped tennis balls” — repeated missteps in business, relationships, or personal goals. But with the right tools, those can become part of the path forward.
Try this: track the drop. Write down what led to the mistake. Emotions, triggers, circumstances. Spot the patterns. Own it honestly. No shame spirals. Just clear-eyed reflection.
Ask: what was I really trying to do? Plan micro-steps. Set tiny goals. If you miss deadlines, start with setting one alarm. One habit at a time. Swap, don’t just stop. Replace the bad habit with a useful one.
Think: take a walk instead of doom scroll. Laugh instead of lash out. Get mindful. Stay present. Catch yourself in the act of almost making the same error. Choose differently.
Ask for feedback: invite people you trust to show you what you might not see.
Expect the hiccups. Change isn’t a clean break. It’s a tug-of-war with your autopilot. Be patient. Grow on purpose. Every stumble is tuition in the school of improvement. Pay it gladly.
Final Catch
Insanity isn’t repeating the same mistake. Insanity is thinking you should be perfect the first time you try anything. If we applied that “definition” of insanity to kids learning to speak, they would all be committed by their second babble.
The truth is: repetition is how the brain learns. Feedback is how it grows. And what looks like failure on the outside is often brilliance booting up inside.
So next time you drop the ball, just smile. You’re not losing it. You’re learning.
