When you’re having a busy day and life gets in the way, writing one word can make all the difference.
One minute of running makes all the difference.
Thirty seconds of meditating.
Ten seconds of stretching.
One second of envisioning who you want to be.
That’s all it takes to change how you feel about yourself and who you are.
Because now, instead of giving up, you’re still on track.
It’s that easy.
Before I learned not to listen
I would stand
seemingly still
but secretly swaying
swallowed up by a willow tree
and its play with the windBefore I learned not to listen
I would hold my head against the rind
reach
reconnect with an old friend
the way it has always felt best
cheek pressed to chestBefore I learned not to listen
a breeze in the leaves
rustling ruminating
would sound like raindrops in my ears
making my eyes answer
with a torrent of tearsBefore I learned not to listen
a rolling thunder
thumping like a beating heart
would rumble from my cheek to my ear
replacing my fear
with a memory I used to held dear
we were never really apartBefore I learned not to listen
before the lust for language
reduced what I could see
and sense within
I would allow the whispers of the wordless world
speak to me like kinBefore I learned not to listen
Lukas Van Vyve
I would accept
that once upon a time
I remembered your name
and once upon a time we both knew
we were one and all the same
I made an account on Instagram to stay in touch with friends abroad. Now I habitually spend hours a day scrolling through Instagram feeds. Is this a purposeful pursuit?
I started journaling to clear my head. Now I habitually write and publish insights every day. Is this a purposeful pursuit?
Good intentions and purposeful actions inevitably turn into a habit, and that can be a good or a bad thing.
Constantly questioning our actions leads to paralysis.
But once in a while, gaining presence and reaffirming your intentions can be enough to put you back on track.
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.
Write before you start finding reasons not to write.
Run before you start finding reasons not to run.
Love before you start finding reasons not to love.
Before you react to what you fear in the world around you, act on what you feel in the world inside you.
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.
Admiring (flawed) early work is easy when we already know the late work is going to be great.
Everyone forgives Picasso or Da Vinci for a lousy early sketch. In fact, people pay good money to hang one in their living room.
Maybe the early work, showing that even the greats are mere mortals on a journey towards excellence, is the most valuable?
And yet, it’s much harder to be gentle on a beginning artist for shipping mediocre creative work – not in the least for the beginning artist themselves – when their path to excellence hasn’t unfolded yet.
After all, something that one day will be “my early work” is still “my current best work” today.
The road to excellence is invisible from the trenches.
But that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.
Which makes me wonder…
When I know that through persistence and daily practice, one day, I’ll look back on today’s creation, smiling, thinking: “Oh how far I’ve come… How much I’ve learned… And some of this was actually pretty good…”
Can I admire my creative work less for what it looks, feels, or sounds like, and more for who I’m becoming through making it?
Can I do the same for the creative projects of others?
With that mindset… How much easier and forgiving would the daily creative journey be?
