You don’t have to feel ready to be a successful writer to pick up a pen or open a document and write today.
In fact, you’ll probably never feel ready to be a successful writer unless you write today.
This means, strangely enough, that despite how you feel in this very moment, you are entirely ready.
Ready to take the first step.
Yesterday, we got to do it all over again.
Today, we get to do it all over again.
And tomorrow, we get to do it all over again, too.
Maybe that routine is what gives us peace of mind in the uncontrollable chaos of life?
Maybe that routine isn’t a drag, but, in fact, the beauty of life?
“Life made me who I am, and I can’t do anything about it.”
“While the past has shaped me, the way I choose to live my life today, tomorrow, and every day after, will determine who I am.”
You’re living anyway. Your actions are votes for an identity anyway. So you might as well do it intentionally.
The only future we habitually see for ourselves is the one our past illuminates.
The moment we take a flashlight, intentionally aim our gaze, and look at what lies beyond the shade of the past, we see what’s truly possible for us.
It’s a counterintuitive process.
It takes courage and energy.
It’s what intentional living is all about.
Are you clinging to the past, even though it is time for something new?
Are you escaping the present, even though it isn’t time yet for something new?
Are you scared of the future, even though it truly is time for something new?
All three can be true. All three can be a
When technology and AI outpace us and we can’t be the best, smartest, fastest, strongest on the planet anymore – will we still care about our economic output?
When results have become irrelevant, what are the things I will still want to do?
Maybe we’ll rediscover value in our actions themselves and the pleasure and pain they make us feel – happy, sad, useful, worthless, brimming with purpose, overflowing with self-hatred…?
Will I still write just because I enjoy writing, even if AI could write a better-researched, more insightful book than I ever could?
Will I still learn a language just because learning a language makes me feel good, even if I could use an instant translation device to talk to anyone in the world?
Will I still spend my days in an office cubicle if that’s a painful prospect?
An era of soul-searching is coming.
Habits are hard to build. But there’s one that’s easy to get used to: starting a new project, then giving up.
Sometimes it’s better not to start at all, so you avoid reinforcing a quitter’s identity: I’ve given up so many times in the past, I’ll probaby give up again.
So how do you know which projects are worth starting?
Ask yourself the following questions:
If the answer to both questions is yes, you’re onto something.
If not, you’re setting yourself up for frustration.
