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  • #2 Why I write

    If writing and creating every day were as vital to my survival as drinking water, ingesting food, and bonding… What would life look like?

    Biologically, all behavior is driven by pain, pleasure, and the triggers and habits that come from repeated reaction to those stimuli.

    So I eat because I want to escape the pain of hunger – or heartbreak, sadness, and frustration.

    I connect with others because I’m neurologically hardwired to feel pleasure when bonding… and pain and deprivation when I’m abandoned.

    Similarly, I write because I want to escape the frustration of not being able to put into words an insight.

    I also write because I enjoy the rush resulting from finding the words that convey what I want to say.

    I write because I love the tingling in my back and neck when I combine those words into sentences with just the right rhythm, just the right cadence capturing the meaning, context, emotion of what I want to say…

    I write because writing wrests the essence from the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions racing through my mind and body.

    I write because when when I write, I feel that at last, I can make sense of life.

    And the more meaning I find, the more likely I am to write.

  • #13 Write & Publish. Then write some more

    Here’s a question Tim Ferris asks startup founders (and himself) when deciding to invest time and money into a new project:

    “If, in one (or two, or three) years from now, this whole project has failed miserably… Which assumptions you hold today were proven wrong?”

    Tim Ferris

    Answering the question first requires defining failure and success.

    For my project of publishing a daily insight on this blog success looks like this:

    Write & publish.

    Edit.

    Write & publish.

    Edit.

    Then write & publish some more.

    Good, bad, well-received or not, received or read by anyone at all, it doesn’t matter.

    Because first of all, writing is a creative outlet for me.

    Second: long as I write & publish consistently, I trust I will get better at writing and publishing.

    Finally: I trust that from all that sculpting away, day by day, will come better and better insights.

    A pretty low bar for success – which, counterintuitively, often leads to more progress long-term.

    Now we have established that:

    What are the assumptions that could be wrong if next year, it turns out I failed to write & publish every day?

    Here are some I can think of:

    • Writing and publishing every day is going to be a long-term fulfilling activity for me
    • I am truly fine with writing and publishing without anyone ever reading it
    • I am fine spending considerable time on starting a new project that I might never monetize
    • Writing & publishing every day really leads to better writing skills and interesting insights (although even if this assumption is false, it wouldn’t necessarily stop me from writing.)

    Will these assumptions be proven wrong?

    Only time will tell.

    Until then… I write & publish… then write & publish some more.

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    #78 Unconscious categorization

    Within a split second, I’ve categorized an object as an apple. Now I don’t pay attention to the dimensions, color, smell, and texture anymore.

    Within a split second, I’ve categorized an emotion as anger, fear, frustration, love. So I don’t pay attention to the physiological changes in my body anymore.

    I’m always categorizing – but I didn’t consciously create the categories.

    But what if I’m categorizing inaccurately?

    Can I interrupt instant categorization, governed by language, habits, patterns, past experience?

    Can I re-open my senses and see, smell, touch, hear, feel again?

    Can I start sensing nuances between the objects I behold?

    Can I discern nuances between the feelings I feel?

    Mindfulness, journaling, meditation, and learning languages can help with more conscious categorization.

    Because what if the anger I feel is nothing but fear?

    What if the fear I feel is nothing but frustration?

    What if the frustration I feel is nothing but unrequited love?

    And what if the love I feel is nothing but infatuation?

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    #142 Overcalibration

    Giving up on your intentions once doesn’t mean you’ll always give up.

    Quitting a workout routine or diet once doesn’t mean you’re doomed forever.

    Giving one clumsy speech doesn’t mean you’re a bad public speaker forever.

    Learning from the past is good. But predicting the future based on a small set of isolated past experiences is overcalibration.

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