#350 Don’t wait for the storm to pass
Don’t wait for the storm to pass.
Write in the rain.
Don’t wait for the storm to pass.
Write in the rain.
I don’t wake up every day in love with the prospect of writing a blog post.
But I do love that part of my identity is that I publish something every day.
By not publishing, I would lose that part of my identity and end up frustrated because I gave up something I enjoy. And that’s painful.
So I write.
The secret to sticking to your habits: make the pain of quitting bigger than the pain of getting over the resistance against doing what you know is good for you.
Because the pain of discipline is always easier to bear than the pain of regret.
Passion is writing whenever you can.
Discipline is writing even when you can’t.
We all live in a maze of mistranslations and misunderstandings about who we think you are and who others think we are.
Now, by lack of a way to know who we truly are, misunderstandings can be comforting, my friend; there’s no doubt about that.
But when you get so lost in the maze that it causes suffering, it might be time to start mending the misunderstandings.
Could it be that mending is nothing more than making another mistranslation about who we are that makes us happier?
After all, I can perceive myself as a struggling writer or a skilled wordsmith – both perspectives hold their truths.
It’s the power of our misunderstandings that molds our reality.
Getting worked up about traffic jams is not pleasant, but it’s predictable. And addictive.
So is giving up on writing a book, quitting a workout regime, and re-living any conflict or failure.
Not pleasant. But predictable.
This is how you’ve always felt. And this is how you’ll always feel – unless you become aware of the unpleasant, predictable, addictive patterns and decide to act differently.
Not only once, not twice, but every time you become aware of the pattern until you’ve built enough self-trust that you know the unpleasant predictable events aren’t inevitable.
I’ve tirelessly written at least 300 journal entries on the same topic in the belief that in the 301st, I’ll strike gold and find the exact words I’m looking for.
And it took me a while to accept that that’s an illusion.
Maybe every attempt is really just the same struggle to find the right words for ideas, thoughts, insights that were never meant to be captured into words in the first place?
And yet I bend, I twist, I turn, I squirm,
I write, re-write
and never am I satisfied.I get closer, or so I think
And then the next day, I jump back in
and instantly sink.I need answers…
Even though deep down I know,
the only certainty is that I’ll never get them.Yet, I have to try.
Because while every day of writing is a struggle, the true value lies in the daily struggle of writing.
Although it might look like I’m not making progress, writing and creativity is just not a linear process.
In reality, as long as a I write every day, I’m focusing my mind on what I’m trying to say. I’m sculpting away, and someway, somehow the essence will emerge from my 300 journal entries and reveal itself.
How? I don’t know.
When? I don’t know.
Probably not while I’m writing (read why here)… even though the writing is what makes it possible.
Anyway.
Now I know day 1, 11, 50, 299, 300, 301, 3001 are all equally important…
I’m finally ready to accept the struggle
and write in peace.
In a podcast segment about practicing Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu,Tim Ferris and Joshua Waitzkin discuss a principle for managing expectations they call:
“The first rep doesn’t count.”
Tim Ferris, Josh Waitzkin: https://tim.blog/wp-content/uploads/2018/08/148-josh-waitzkin.pdf
In other words: when performing a move for the first time, your body and mind need to get used to it. Gradually,you’ll get better – and the more aware you are of your body, the faster you’ll make progress – but judging someone on their first attempt doesn’t say much about their future potential.
This holds true for many skills in life, like starting a daily publishing habit.
Publishing a post or a video for the first time always feels funny (and often frightening). At this stage, judgment or feedback is futile. It’s all about jumping the hurdle of getting started
Publish five times, you’re ready to get some feedback (both from yourself and from others)…
Publish for the fiftieth time, and you’re well on your way to turn it into a habit… and fly.
So whenever I start something new, I manage my expectations by repeating to myself:
The first time feels funny. The fiftieth time I fly.
And for bonus points: What would it feel like the 500th time?