#464 It’s not about what you should do
You shouldn’t write – unless you choose to.
You shouldn’t watch series – unless you choose to.
It’s not about what you should do.
It’s about what you choose to do.
Intent, not guilt.
You shouldn’t write – unless you choose to.
You shouldn’t watch series – unless you choose to.
It’s not about what you should do.
It’s about what you choose to do.
Intent, not guilt.
I could consider myself a writer if I write 20,000 words a day – and I would be right.
Or I could consider myself a writer if I write one sentence a day – and I would be right.
I could consider myself a writer if I’ve written a book – and I would be right.
Or I could consider myself a writer the moment I’ve decided I’m going to be a writer – and I would be right.
I could consider myself a writer if I’ve built up enough self-trust and taken enough daily actions that prove that I genuinely care about being a writer – and I would be right.
Whether you’re aware of them or not, you’re using subjective measuring sticks for everything, usually determined by upbringing, culture, and societal pressure.
But nothing stops you from consciously choosing your measuring sticks (depending on your goals, you could make them easier or more challenging) and setting yourself up for more fulfillment and success.
Here are some questions that can help:
When you say you want to be {successful, happy, fulfilled, fit, wealthy}…
How do you know you’re reaching your goal?
Is it an achievement?
A material possession?
A feeling?
An action you take?
A decision you make?
Choose wisely.
When progress seems slow
Maybe even invisible
And still, every day you show
That you know
Where you’re going
That’s where you truly grow.
Learning often implies discovering what you can’t do.
I can’t write and convey what I want to say. I can’t speak Spanish fluently. I can’t do this yoga pose.
For many people that’s also the final destination, when in fact, it’s only the start.
We’re missing a word: Learning is discovering what you can’t do yet.
Or, even better:
Learning is discovering what, through diligent practice, you’ll soon be able to do.
After all, actions overrule thoughts.
I can’t write and find the right words… yet. But with diligent practice, soon, I’ll be able to convey what I want to say.
I’m not able to do this yoga pose… yet. But with diligent practice, soon I will.
I can’t speak Spanish fluently… yet. But with diligent practice, soon I will.
That’s all there is to it.
Discover your current limit. Realize that through diligent practice, you’ll overcome it.
Then you’ll find a new limit. And through diligent practice, you’ll overcome it.
Until you find a new limit, which you’ll overcome… through diligent practice.
Where do you let the discovery of your current limit be your end station?
If you’re curious about one topic, you can stay curious, even if your interests change over time.
If you’re kind to one person, you can stay kind when talking to other people.
If you showed leadership in your last job, you can show leadership in your new job.
You can be consistent in how you do things, without having to be consistent in what you do.
I could decide that writing less than 1000 words a day would be a failure – and I would be correct.
I could decide that writing more than 50 words a day would be a failure – and I would be correct.
I could decide that not writing today would be failure – and I would be correct.
After all, for many things in life, you get to decide yourself what’s failure and what’s success.
In fact, my friend, just like me you may have already decided for yourself what’s failure and what’s success.
And just like me, you may need a reminder of that decision once in a while, so you can verify if it still serves you.
This is that reminder.
Which serves me well, because my decision was that writing you this short daily letter is exactly right.
See you tomorrow.
Thinking hard doesn’t make the pressure of “finding something to write about” go away.
Writing does.