The future I want to see affects the present I create.
And so does the future I don’t want to see.
Do I let fear of what could go wrong reign my day?
Or excitement about what could be?
Whatever I choose, I may well end up proving myself right.
I don’t care what I write.
I care that I write.
Because only once the daily act of writing isn’t in question anymore, can I start writing what matters.
When everything is urgent, how do we know what to do first?
One solution is adding more nuance:
What’s the most urgent?
What’s the most important?
Breathing is urgent.
A crying child is urgent.
A toilet visit can be urgent.
Sending that email out tonight right before bed instead of tomorrow, maybe not so much?
Here’s the important question:
If you’re going to prioritize the urgent matters anyway, why stress yourself out by calling everything urgent in the first place?
Making everything urgent devalues truly urgent matters.
Because when everything is urgent, nothing is urgent anymore.
Not all tasks and activities we must do feel fulfilling or rewarding. There’s no way out of busy work.
But we can avoid prioritizing and attracting it to the expense of work that matters.
Enter the hour of misery.
One hour of busy work and chores a day.
60 minutes. Not more. But also not less.
If, after 60 minutes of misery, you feel like you should do much more, it’s time to realign priorities.
Delegate.
OR come to terms with the fact that you’ll never finish the pile of busy work tasks – then carry on with the important stuff anyway.
After all, tomorrow’s another day.
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.
It’s easy to be non-violent when you’re in a flower garden
Josh Waitzkin – The art of learning
It’s easy to be kind to others when the world has always been kind to you.
It’s easy to say you want to be a writer when you never really put yourself out there to prove it.
To learn writing, I must confront the uncomfortable parts of writing – and learn not to respond by running away from it.
To learn non-violence, I must confront violence – and learn not to respond with violence in return.
To learn kindness, I must confront being hurt – and learn not to use that as an excuse to perpetuate the cycle of hurt.
To build trust in myself, I must stay true to my values under difficult conditions.
Dissolve your worries
Face your fears
Evolve your expectations
What you desire is near
