Write, not for the words flowing on the page, but for how writing makes you feel.
Run, not for the personal records, but for how running makes you feel.
Help out friends, not for expecting them to return the favor, but for how helping out friends makes you feel.
Do the right thing, not for any outer reward, but an inner feeling of aligning with who you want to be.
I can’t just say, “today, I’m going to be excellent at writing.”
Excellence is an outcome: a result of focused daily actions.
And one of the fastest ways to excellence is the pursuit of failure.
Not just making accidental mistakes but actively seeking them out.
Did I write nonsense today? Did I understand why I was writing nonsense? Have I learned something from writing that nonsense that will help me write something less nonsensical tomorrow?
The pursuit of failure is painful, especially for perfectionists like me.
But once ego, perfectionism, and the fear of failure make way for a commitment to the process, there’s much to learn from daily mistakes.
My actions affect my identity and beliefs.
And my identity and beliefs affect which actions I take.
So, to change, I must consciously take actions that divert from my established identity and beliefs, and do what you believe is impossible for yourself.
Until it’s not impossible anymore.
It’s not an easy road, my friend. It takes courage. Effort. Sometimes pain.
Many times, it’s not worth it.
But sometimes, there’s no other way.
And in those moments, it’s good to know there’s always someone willing to show you a path, paved by Tiny Trust Builders, taking you wherever you want to go.
Since you’re reading my letters, that someone could be me, my friend.
Or anyone else you know.
I guess all I want to say is: you’re not in this alone.
Does a day end, or does a new one start?
Does the end of a book chapter signal termination, or does it serve as a gateway to an unexplored continuation?
Maybe we don’t need to arbitrarily mark endings and beginnings in lives that consist of an uninterrupted flow.
Maybe we’re just a tiny plot in a story spanning billions of years.
Maybe we don’t grasp the bigger story anyway.
Maybe it’s all the same.
I don’t know why I decide to write every day.
But I know writing feels right.
I know it feels like what the person I want to be would do.
Sometimes, that explanation is not enough.
But usually that’s all the “why” I need to write again.
It’s easy to be non-violent when you’re in a flower garden
Josh Waitzkin – The art of learning
It’s easy to be kind to others when the world has always been kind to you.
It’s easy to say you want to be a writer when you never really put yourself out there to prove it.
To learn writing, I must confront the uncomfortable parts of writing – and learn not to respond by running away from it.
To learn non-violence, I must confront violence – and learn not to respond with violence in return.
To learn kindness, I must confront being hurt – and learn not to use that as an excuse to perpetuate the cycle of hurt.
To build trust in myself, I must stay true to my values under difficult conditions.
One question to make distractions fall away and make the mind turn quiet:
What’s most important right this very second?
Not today. Not this week. Right this very second.
