You can do everything right and still fail.
You can do everything wrong and still succeed.
In the end, all you can do is realize that failure and success aren’t always yours to control.
In the end, all you can do is do the best you can.
It’s not a masterpiece.
It’s not a love song.
It’s not a poem.
Make it not about what you create but about the very fact that you’re creating.
Ugly, pretty, insightful, bland. It doesn’t matter. Just externalize your mind’s chatter.
The trick to building discipline: stick to your projects more often than you quit, so your actions start overruling self-defeating thoughts.
So how make sure you stick to more of your projects and habits
Make them feasible. Start small.
Write a couple of sentences in your journal every day.
Write short articles.
Walk for 5 minutes.
Do 2 minutes of breathing exercises.
In the long run, you’ll probably have to build up volume and intensity. But first, start small. Build trust of completion. Become disciplined.
On Sunday, January 3 2021, motivated by an emotional low point and an article I read on writing “Morning Pages”, I grabbed an old notepad, pen, started writing and didn’t stop until I had filled three pages.
It was the first time in 5 years I wrote something by hand, and the first time in my life I journaled.
I liked it so much that I kept writing every day.
We’re 625 days later now, and I never stopped. 3 pages of Stream of Consciousness journaling a day, 625 days in a row: that’s 1875 pages or relaxing the mind and letting my train of thoughts “stream onto the page”, unfiltered, playfully wandering through my experiences, thoughts, and insights.
But no matter how enjoyable the wandering, lately I’ve been feeling the urge to create something tangible (and valuable) with all those insights and ideas.
Here’s how I envision it:
Daily journaling (Morning Pages) unblocks my stream of consciousness and transfers it to paper, forming the raw material out of which ideas and insights can emerge. In my experience, once I’ve gone through the sea of fluff, I can expect an insight (maybe two if I’m lucky).
Daily sculpting helps me remove all the fluff until only the pure insights are left, and then refine them, like a sculptor chiseling away at a massive block of marble, working to reveal the essence hidden inside of it.
“If you want me to give you a two-hour presentation, I am ready today. If you want only a five-minute speech, it will take me two weeks to prepare.”
– Mark Twain
Sculpting is the hard part. Because when you think about it, the raw material – the ideas and insights – have always been there, just like the famous Davide sculpture has always been hidden inside the block of marble Michelangelo hauled from a quarry in Carrara in the Apuan alps. He just paid attention in a different way and saw what many others didn’t see.
Yet, he wasn’t the only person who had the idea to use a block of marble to sculpt a Biblical figure. But the way he shaped that raw material into something impactful, beautiful, that accurately represents what you had in mind…
That made all the difference.
And it’s a skill that takes a long time to hone.
Which might be why I’ve avoided it for so long. So far, out of 1875 pages of journaling, I’ve published… 4 articles.
Time to change that. From today onwards, I’m adding a “sculpting session” to my day and will publish the result as a “Daily Insight”.
I don’t expect it to be particularly insightful anytime soon. Maybe I’ll never be fully satisfied with anything I come up with.
But when I stick to it every day and arrive at day 50, 100, or day 625…
Who knows how much I’ll have learned about writing, insight generation, communication,…?
Who knows what will have emerged?
Surely more than if I’d do nothing.
Which leads me to the question I’m asking myself today:
What would it feel like if I remove all external judgment from writing and see writing as the practice of exploring thoughts, ideas, feelings, insights, and becoming ever more accurate and impactful in representing them?
My current answer: I’d be focused much more on process and progress, not on competition. I’d feel how I’m getting better every day, not in relationship to others (as in competition), but in relationship to the purest expression of a certain art, skill, or action.
Sculpting away, day by day.
On 1. January 2021, I started writing 3 pages of stream-of-consciousness journaling a day. I haven’t missed a day since. That’s 663 days in a row: an inner dialogues of 1989 pages poured in to piles of journals.
Stream-of-consciousness journaling is also often called Morning Pages (a term coined by Julia Cameron in her book “The Artist’s Way“).
The idea is that you wake up in the morning and before you do anything else, take a journal and pen, and you start externalizing the voice talking to yourself in your head on the page.
You don’t stop to think about perfect phrasing (your inner voice never stops talking, either). In fact, you don’t lift your pen off the paper at all until you’ve filled 3 pages.
Shopping lists, to-dos, dreams, interactions, worries, fears, excitement, goals, friends, family, memories, ideas, goals,… whatever’s on your mind.
No poetry, no perfect prose, no structured sentences, no coherent insights – unless that’s what flows out of you.
No judgment either. You never even have to read this back.
Nothing but pure, unfiltered stream of consciousness.
This simple practice has transformed me.
Or don’t do any of the above and just write.
Write first thing tomorrow morning.
Don’t overthink it, just write.
Don’t read it back, just write.
Don’t worry about grammar, just write.
Then when you’re done, write some more.
There’s nothing wrong with chasing quick wins, as long as you define them well.
Because the first quick wins are usually internal and invisible.
Only when you’ve won some battles against the inner critic who wants you to give up do the external quick wins kick in.
And that’s how it’s supposed to be.
If only you could pierce through the veil
See what’s on the other side
Which aspirations are pipe dream
Which ones you must pursue
If only certainty would be your share
If you’d know what, how, where
Would you really be happier?
Or would life lose it’s flair?
