#491 We’ll always find a new challenge
Most things are hard and a challenge, until suddenly they aren’t anymore.
And then we’ll find a new challenge.
And maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be.
Most things are hard and a challenge, until suddenly they aren’t anymore.
And then we’ll find a new challenge.
And maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be.
All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone
Blaise Pascal, https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/19682-all-of-humanity-s-problems-stem-from-man-s-inability-to-sit
We often equate sitting quietly in a room alone with loneliness: a word with a negative emotional charge.
But sitting quietly in a room can also bring solitude: the simple state of being by yourself, without any negative connotation.
Solitude can give relief of the pressure to be constantly “socializing” (through social media apps or in real life).
Relief of the pressure to socialize can make space.
Space you can use to hear the thoughts in your head and the feelings in your body.
Thoughts and feelings that can tell you what’s truly important to you.
And then you realize that what’s truly important to you is nothing new.
It’s something you already knew, before you learned not to listen.
What’s the the point of it all
What’s your life all about?
Maybe the only way to make sense of it all
Is by letting life happen, and living it out?
Am I doing this because of who I want to be? Or in spite of who I want to be?
Do I act a certain way automatically?
Who or what made me believe it’s a necessity?
Do I even know who I want to be?
Questions that lead to intentional living.
When you feel inspired, write.
When you feel you don’t have a single sensible word in you, write.
When you feel like the last thing you want to do is writing, write.
Because writing will bring your identity and mindset back to where it
belongs.
Because you’re a writer.
And writers write.
Which conclusions did I draw from past experiences?
Have I overreacted to petty events, and ignored beautiful moments?
Have I deleted memories? Maybe invented some?
Have I built stories based on generalizations?
Most importantly: how does the past I still feel affect my actions today?
And if I know a lot of it was my own interpretation… could I change my past, or at least what it means to me?
Would that set me free?
I was undoubtedly in a pensive mood when writing this.
I guess, given the daily letters I send you, you might conclude I’m in a pensive mood every day.
And you wouldn’t be wrong.
But pensive moods can be useful – when they’re coupled with conclusions and insights. Maybe even with Tiny Trust Builders.
And if any of these questions help you re-interpret your past and set you free, too, I’ll be a happy man.
A wistful win-win.
“Getting better” at something is not a linear process.
You can practice every day and not see any progress.
In fact, you can practice every day and notice deterioration.
But it’s impossible to practice every day without building the self-trust that you have the discipline to practice every day.
I might not have clear proof that I’m becoming a better writer, but I have irrefutable proof that I wrote today, yesterday, and the past 138 days.
And because I write every day, the evidence is building that I am, in fact, a writer.
As my actions shift my identity, the probability that I’ll keep writing increases.
And as long as I keep writing, the probability of writing better work increases.
Tiny Trust Builders are the only reliable proof of progress.