What would your future look like if you weren’t rushing to get there so fast?
What would your present look like if you didn’t let it be limited by the past?
What would your dreams look like if you realized your potential is vast?
Would you be free at last?
What would you finally dare to do today
if you knew whatever you try will never be perfect anyway?
Publish a story with typos and awkward sentences?
Run a marathon without finishing it?
Play a guitar piece and trip up five times?
Sing in front of other people and miss a note?
Try a new yoga pose in class and fall over?
Nothing will be perfect today.
Nothing will be perfect tomorrow.
But if you take imperfect action
and dare to publish imperfect work
everything you do will have the perfect taste of progress and consistency.
And that’s all that counts anyway.
Whenever you set out to establish a new habit, there’s often a nagging thought at the back of your mind wondering, “When will you quit this time?”
But the naysayer in your head that has had free reign for all these years can’t be silenced.
They can only be proven wrong.
“You expect me to quit? Watch me.”
“Say whatever you want; I am showing up today.”
Tiny Trust Builders, day after day, until the naysayer admits, “I was wrong. You’re not that person anymore.”
Once you’ve been writing daily for long enough, continuing to write is the easier option, more aligned with your habits and identity.
Just like for most people, it feels more natural to continue brushing their teeth every day than to skip a day.
But when you’re still building the writing habit, skipping the writing is the easier option.
Which means it shouldn’t be an option at all — until it has become an option you’re not interested in anymore.
Do you want to fear a future you resent, or focus on a future you create in the present?
Do you even want to know what happens next, if all it does is blind you from what happens right now?
Do you want to focus on a future you fear, if it prevents you from building what’s important, right now, right here?
You kind of want to run a marathon.
You kind of want to eat better.
You kind of want to move more.
You kind of want to feel better.
And everything kind of stays the same.
Only when “kind of” becomes “absolutely” and “want to” becomes “choose to” change happens.
I absolutely choose to write.
I absolutely choose to run a marathon.
I absolutely choose to eat better.
I absolutely choose to move more.
I absolutely choose to do whatever it takes to feel better.
Because there is no other way.
The outcome is not the book.
The outcome is not the marathon.
The outcome is not the successful business.
The outcome is not even the daily habit you form, even though they’re the stepping stones you need.
The outcome is the embodiment of the changes we’ve internalized, the growth we’ve experienced, and the evolution we’ve undergone, allowing us to say, “This is what I now stand for. This is what I believe is possible.”
The outcome is the identity.
Maybe it’s less about “What do I want to achieve?” and more about “What do I want to believe?”
