You’re on a lifelong journey, and it’ll be over before you know it.
Which doesn’t mean you’re in a rush.
After all, who’s to say that going slow and intentional won’t give you a longer life than rushing through the days to cram in as much as possible?
Some days I have ten ideas to write about. Some days, zero.
But when I lack ideas to write about, the ideas aren’t really gone. I’m in a scarcity state: my brain chemistry prevents me from accessing the insights.
When I feel lonely, friends and family I can connect with aren’t really gone. I’m in a scarcity state: my brain chemistry prevents me from connecting with them.
Scarcity is like pollution.
When noise pollution of cars, planes and construction machines drown out the singing of the birds, the birds aren’t really gone. I just can’t hear them.
When light pollution drowns out the stars, they’re not really gone. I just can’t see them.
So how do I get out of scarcity? How do I reduce pollution?
Here’s what works for me:
Notice I’m in scarcity mode. Then move. Meditate. Do stream-of-consciousness journaling.
Then find a place where I hear the birds.
Find a place where I can see the stars.
Write anyway.
And connect with friends and family anyway.
It’s not about content, it’s about consistent content.
It’s not about running, it’s about repeated running.
It’s not about meditating, it’s about many moments of meditating.@
It’s about repeated rehearsal, until you finally get it.
You don’t have to change or improve who you are.
But you could develop new parts of your character without dismissing the existing parts.
They’re not the same thing.
Be here for the triumphs.
Be here for the losses.
Be here for the dreams.
Be here for the doubts.
Be here for the courage.
Be here for the fear.
Be here for the victory.
Be here for the defeat.
Be here for the laughter.
Be here for the tears.
Whatever you do
Whatever you fear
Be here.
when the cracks in my faux finish
finally appear
my mind screams out
you’re coming too nearyet i resist the need to hide
lean in to the fear
let the cracks grow wide
because after all these years
slowly steadily submerged under layers of snow
frozen frightened i don’t know where else to goi feel i’m sliding back into my head
but you don’t let me
instead
you keep me here
make even more light appear
look at the fear
until the icy flawed frozen faux finish finally fully melts away
into a trembling torrent of tearsand through the sobs
subtle shining light teardrops
mix mingle mend my mind
my heart my soul a warmth so kindyou guide my gaze and through the tears
in my eyes a rainbow appears
eclipsing the fear
making it clear
that when I dare to feel complete
allow your heart and mine to meeti finally remember
that I’m enough
i’ve always beenand at last
Lukas Van Vyve
i can be seen
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?
