{"id":33963,"date":"2013-07-16T17:26:35","date_gmt":"2013-07-16T22:26:35","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.artofmanliness.com\/?p=33963"},"modified":"2025-12-15T20:08:37","modified_gmt":"2025-12-16T02:08:37","slug":"self-efficacy-and-the-art-of-doing-things","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/beta.artofmanliness.com\/featured\/self-efficacy-and-the-art-of-doing-things\/","title":{"rendered":"Self-Efficacy and The Art of Doing Things"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"High<\/p>\n

Editor’s Note: This a guest post from Ian Walker.<\/em><\/p>\n

A Thing I Didn\u2019t Do<\/b><\/h3>\n

In Lethbridge, Alberta, where I went to university and lived for five years, there is a very large, very long, and very high train bridge. It stretches across a giant valley that has been carved away by the Oldman River. It\u2019s a beautiful area in the heart of the city. The river is surrounded by rolling hills, and the university sits atop them like a boat carried by the waves of the sea. The valley is so deep and just wide enough, that were a train to go down into it, even gradually, it would never come back out. So in an effort to prevent trains from being swallowed in the belly of Lethbridge, early workers built the bridge across the valley. Trains don\u2019t have to dip or climb: they just go straight across. Over 300 feet tall and 1.6 kilometers long (just under one mile), the High Level Bridge, as it\u2019s called, is the largest of its kind. It was completed in 1909 by manly men who probably all had moustaches or beards, wore suspenders or flannel suits, didn\u2019t have safety equipment, and had never driven a car. And I don\u2019t understand how they did it. The bridge has always fascinated me. And from all angles – from the highways on both sides, underneath it, and even on top of it; whenever I really look at it, I\u2019m in awe. It’s the symbol of the city and its main attraction. People have their picture taken by it, it\u2019s on postcards<\/a>, and a Google image search of \u201cLethbridge\u201d fills the screen with mostly pictures of the bridge. It is<\/i> Lethbridge, and in a sense, my whole experience living there revolved around the bridge.<\/p>\n

Early on in my time in Lethbridge, I mentioned in conversation how fascinated I was by the bridge and how I would love to know how it was built. The person I was talking with happened to have recently visited the local museum, where a video is regularly shown that documents the construction of the bridge. Perfect. I was talking to the right person at the right time and my problem was solved. A gift from the universe. But I spit in the universe\u2019s face. Despite my deep interest in the topic, the proximity of the museum, the low admission fee, my flexible student schedule, and the fact that the experience would provide me exactly<\/i> what I was looking for, I never went. The whole time I lived there, I never went.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve thought about this many times. Why didn\u2019t I ever go? Why wouldn\u2019t I do something so easy – something I wanted to do<\/i>?<\/p>\n

Theory of Doing Things<\/b><\/h3>\n

Bored out of his mind in Mundare, Alberta (population 855), Albert Bandura decided to grow up to become a world-famous psychologist. And what Albert Bandura decides to do, Albert Bandura does. Now among the most cited psychologists, and clearly a doer of things, Bandura is the authority on getting things done. His Social Cognitive Theory revolves around the concept of self-efficacy<\/i>. According to Bandura, self-efficacy is, \u201cthe belief in one\u2019s capabilities to organize and execute the courses of action required to manage prospective situations.\u201d In other words, self-efficacy is your belief in your own ability to do the things you want to do.<\/p>\n

People with high levels of self-efficacy:<\/p>\n