#326 What you care most about will show up in what you do

We get hungry and look for food. Then we get hungry again.

We get thirsty and look for water. Then we’re thirsty again.

We want to create art and learn how to sing. Then we want to create more and learn how to draw.

Full satisfaction with our life as it is is an illusion. Desire will always be there, even if we think we’ve reached all our goals.

Without a gap between what we do and what we want to do, what we have and what we want, who we are and who we want to be, life becomes meaningless.

With that knowledge, how can we still be fulfilled?

The fulfillment formula may help:

Regardless of outcomes and results, are the majority of your daily actions in alignment with your purpose, values, and the identity you want to forge?

The path toward self-awareness isn’t always pleasant. 

Take yesterday, when I realized that in many cases, I’m more interested in the comfort of “wanting” something I don’t have than in “taking action to get something.”

That unappealing realization triggered a cascade of even more unappealing questions.

Would I rather mess around with small blog posts instead of becoming a skilled writer crafting coherent arguments?

Would I rather learn about a million different strategies to grow a newsletter instead of actually spreading the word and getting more people to read my newsletter?

Would I rather learn how to learn a language than actually learn a new language?

Is the frustration of unrealized potential also a huge source of comfort in my life?

I’m not sure if I should be happy with that realization. 

Maybe realizations aren’t even supposed to make me happy.

But even if they were, it doesn’t matter. 

Because look: here I am, writing another insight about it.

Another Tiny Trust Builder, proving that every day, I am one step closer to renouncing my citizenship of the United States of “If I wanted, I could.”

Another reminder to myself and you, my friend, one I’ll repeat until the bitter end: actions overrule thoughts.

We naturally move towards pleasure and away from pain – with one exception: painful comfort.

If you’re used to believing that you’re bad at languages, there’s painful comfort in struggling with languages.

If you’re used to negative self-talk, there’s painful comfort in negative self-talk.

If you’re used to working 12-hour days, there’s painful comfort in working 12-hour days.

If you’re used to constant conflict, there’s painful comfort in constant conflict.

If you’re used to neglect, there’s painful comfort in neglect.

Painful comfort is keeping you comfortable AND hurting you.

Years of conditioning have given it an irresistible pull – until you decide to take a leap of faith and start believing that you, too, can change.

Where are you perpetuating painful comfort in life?

AI may write like us – but why do we write in the first place?

AI may translate what we say – but why do we say what we say in the first place?

AI may do what we do – but why do we do what we do in the first place?

Does AI merely regurgitate and build upon what we’ve already said and done?

Do we merely regurgitate and build upon what others have already said and done?

What drives our words and actions?