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    #178 You don’t have to master this today

    Performance gap: the frustrating gap between the way you know something should be done in an ideal world and the way you currently do it.

    I know I should write daily blog posts in advance so I have a buffer in case something comes up and I don’t get to write. Yet here I am, writing this daily insight hours before the publication date.

    I know what the perfect downward-facing dog pose in yoga looks like. Yet when I perform it myself, I am far off from that ideal pose.

    I know all the ingredients that make up a solid, convincing speech. Yet when I write one myself, I am only able to incorporate a few of those ingredients.

    Learning, then, is closing the gap between your intellectual understanding of an ideal product, action, or skill, and your current rendition of it.

    Don’t be so hard on yourself for your current performance.

    You can’t expect to turn intellectual understanding into mastery and internalized knowledge right away.

    You don’t have to master this today.

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    #192 Your desired identity

    Who you are and what you do consistently always coincide. After all, your repeated actions create your identity.

    But who you want to be and what you consistently do don’t usually coincide. Otherwise, you would already have become who you want to be.

    You want to be a writer, but you’re not consistently writing? Writing consistently will bridge the gap between your current and desired identity.

    You want to be a guitar player, but you’re not consistently playing the guitar? Practicing daily will bridge the gap between your current and desired identity.

    Could you make your actions coincide with your desired identity?

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    #165 Writing doesn’t mean writing

    When I write, I’m meditating.

    When I meditate, I’m writing.


    When I run, I’m meditating.

    When I meditate, I’m running.


    When I play the guitar, I’m meditating.

    When I meditate, I’m playing the guitar.


    When I meditate, I’m writing.

    When I write, I’m running.

    When I run, I’m playing the guitar.

    And no matter what I do, I’m always living.

    Life experience always carries over.

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    #159 What unintentional living looks like

    Unintentional living and identity building look like this:

    1. Actions are inspired by pain and pleasure.
    2. Repeated pain and pleasure lead to repeated actions.
    3. Repeated actions lead to habits.
    4. Habits shape your identity.

    “Life made me who I am, and I can’t do anything about it.”

    Intentional living and identity building look like this:

    1. Who do I want to be? What’s my desired identity?
    2. Which habits that would turn me into that person do I not have in place right now?
    3. Which repeated actions that would build that habit am I not currently taking?
    4. Which reactions to pain and pleasure triggers in my life can I change? Which pain and pleasure triggers can I ban out of my life completely?

    “While the past has shaped me, the way I choose to live my life today, tomorrow, and every day after, will determine who I am.”

    You’re living anyway. Your actions are votes for an identity anyway. So you might as well do it intentionally.

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    #45 The tragedy of the spoken word

    Language helps us describe the world we perceive. Yet in doing so, it closes our eyes, our ears, our touch, and our heart to the parts of the world we don’t have words for.

    Every language is a lens on a felt reality within and around us – both clarifying and categorizing the world, and limiting it by the words it has available.

    Learning more languages gives you new lenses – and a richer sense of reality.

    But just like the structure of our ears limit the sounds we can hear, and the structure of our eyes limit colors we can see, the structure of any language somehow limits our felt experience of the world.

    How do we re-access memories, emotions, hidden away in a long-forgotten language?

    How do we re-learn to listen to the voices of the wordless world speaking to our animal self… the voices that once upon a time, before verbal language emerged, were all we had?

    there’s an eternal song
    drowned out by the confines of my mother tongue
    a wordless melody that once made sense
    until our brain started blurring it with a lens
    narrowing it down
    neglecting its nuances through verbs and nouns

    with all its might language wants us to abide
    but the wordless world it tries to hide
    will forever be inside

    Lukas Van Vyve

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