#418 I don’t care what I write
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.
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 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.
Knowledge transfer always implies time collapse. Because learning an insight from someone else usually takes less long than figuring it out yourself.
Take books. The writer usually spent considerable time researching and distilling the topic and coming to good insights (time I might not be able to dedicate).
Thanks to that writer, I can now consume that knowledge in, say 6-12 hours of reading the book. A considerable time collapse…
But when does time collapse go to far?
Can I read a 1-page summary of that book and truly say I grasp the topic?
When your brain gets space to breathe, knowledge grows and nuance shows. It needs time and repeated exposure to absorb information, make connections, and discover new insights.
So a one-page summary isn’t necessarily too shallow… On the contrary: it collapses time so much that information becomes very dense.
What with the evolution towards short-form online content? The primary purpose of TikTok videos and Instagram reels might be to entertain, but the trend is clear and spills over into education, our attention span, and knowledge transfer: shorter, more shallow, yet more dense.
Too little time collapse and we can’t make progress.
Too much time collapse and knowledge collapses with it.
You don’t have to be good at this today.
If you were, you wouldn’t have to practice.
And if you wouldn’t have to practice, it wouldn’t be fun
And definitely not fulfilling.
You don’t have to be good at this today.
The trick to successful habit-building: make daily practice easy.
We often do the opposite: we make weekly practice hard.
If I tell myself I’m going to post one long blog post every week, I’ll find a million reasons not to write for the first six days until I have no choice but to write.
But if I tell myself I will post daily, the longest I can procrastinate is… 12 hours?
And after a week, I’ve practiced my publishing habit 7 times.
So it goes for meditation, yoga, running, and any skill or habit.
Make the daily practice easy.
Do you want to fear a future you resent, or focus on a future you create in the present?
Do you even want to know what happens next, if all it does is blind you from what happens right now?
Do you want to focus on a future you fear, if it prevents you from building what’s important, right now, right here?
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.