Without sadness, how do I know I’m happy?
Without happiness, how do I know I’m sad?
Without anger, how do I know I’m grateful?
Without gratitude, how do I know I’m angry?
Without pain, how do I know what pleasure feels like?
Without pleasure, how do I know I’m in pain?
Without bad moments, how can I appreciate the good ones?
Without good moments, what gets me through the bad ones?
Contrast.
I basically write the same song over and over, but they’re just verses of this one really long one. I’m trying to figure it out.
The Tallest Man on Earth
I write every day so I start to understand what I really want to say.
I don’t usually get it right on the first try; maybe I’m not even getting close after 100 iterations.
And that’s fine.
There probably won’t be one post that captures it all.
Maybe understanding emerges from whole of the 100 iterations instead?
Acting on the first hunch is a powerful move.
After all, hunches have their basis in our subconscious insights and intuitive understanding.
While they may not always lead us to the expected outcome, they invariably lead us to swift action and learning.
Either you’re right and you saved time.
Or you’re wrong so you can course correct, still saving you time.
So drink on the first sign of thirst.
Write on the first sign of an insight.
Make your choice on the first sign of a preference.
If it turns out bad, learn and change.
That’s how you train your intuition – not by distrusting it, but by using and honing it.
You already know how to do this.
If you truly believe you can write every day – not that it is generally possible to write every day, but that YOU can write every day – you would be doing it already.
So if you’re not, ask yourself:
Do you believe YOU can write every day?
If not, why not?
Is it physically impossible for you to write something every day? A page, a paragraph, a sentence… a word?
Deep down, you know the answer to that question.
And now we’ve established you can write every day; what other excuses come up?
That the work won’t be good?
That the words won’t capture what you want to say?
That you’ll disappoint others?
That you’ll disappoint yourself?
Put words to your fears, then ask yourself: what would happen if they all came true?
Would that stop you from writing? Or would it liberate you?
Would you maybe be just fine?
What would it be like to have overcome your fears and still be writing anyway?
Only one way to find out…
Write. Every. Day.
It’s about the way you say, “I’m tired, and I’m here anyway.”
It’s about the way you say, “I’m exhausted, I’m skipping this one, and that’s okay, because I’ll be back on track the next day.”
It’s about the way you say, “Come what may, I’m in this, and from my chosen path, I won’t be led astray.”
It’s about intentionality and elastic discipline.
It’s about direction.
Most of all, it’s about feeling good, not guilty.
Most people don’t see why you’re taking time out of your busy day to sit down and write until the book you were working on every day lies in front of them.
They don’t see why you run every day and eat clean until you set a personal best at the next marathon.
They don’t see the new product you’re working on until it’s developed so far that it helps them achieve their goals.
You’re the only one who sees the method to your madness.
And that’s fine.
Because you probably don’t see the method to their madness either.
Giving it your best doesn’t mean you’ll always create your best work.
But when you give it your best daily and you zoom out, you’ll notice how, slowly but surely, your best work becomes better and better.
And that’s all that matters.
