If you knew you’d write more words tomorrow anyway…
If you knew you’d put your body in a yoga pose every day…
If you knew you’d write the same song over and over again either way…
If you knew there’d be no pressure to nail the guitar piece because tomorrow there’s another chance to play…
If you knew you’d have a lifetime of practice ahead of you – what would you focus on today?
Every time I commit to do something and then follow through, I’m building self-trust in my ability to persevere (because actions overrule thoughts).
Now here’s the pitfall: the action you commit to doesn’t have to be grand or impressive for you to build trust.
There’s only one thing that matters: commit, then follow through.
I set out to meditate 30 seconds today – and I follow through? I’m building self-trust. I’m a meditator now.
I set out to write one sentence – and I actually write one sentence? I’m building self-trust. I’m a writer now.
I set out to do one push-up – and I do one push-up? I’m building self-trust. I’m an exerciser now.
Such tiny actions might not make a huge difference in your skill level, but that’s irrelevant. You’re not building skill (yet). You’re building self-trust by making commitments, then following through.
Once you trust yourself to follow through, you can start thinking about skill. That’s the flow of skill- and habit-building.
So… first things first. Commit to a tiny action. Follow through. Build self-trust and self-esteem.
The magic is in the Tiny Trust Builders.
Before you can master the art of writing, you must master the art of showing up.
Because this journey you’re embarking on isn’t just about writing.
It’s about creating a powerful, resilient identity that will support you for years to come.
In the moment, I don’t feel like a yoga pose comes easy to me – until I look back to how it felt 6 months ago.
In the moment, I don’t really feel like particularly good writer – until I look back on how hard it was to write these daily insights a year ago.
You don’t need to see progress every single day to know that you’re getting better.
Because the things that truly matter often change so slowly that you don’t notice them… unless you take the time to reflect on them.
Changes too small to notice today become impossible to ignore when they stack up.
Journaling question of the day: Why am I rushing?
Out of habit and automaticity – mindlessness caused by endless repetition?
Out of discomfort – I want to get out of this situation as soon as possible?
Out of impatience – I expect whatever comes next to be more interesting or riveting?
What would happen if I don’t rush this?
By interrupting the automaticity and slowing down, will I reopen my senses and discover new nuances?
By not rushing away from discomfort, will I discover everything is not as bad as I feared it would be?
By resisting impatience, can I become fascinated with whatever is happening right here, right now?
I don’t know yet what I want to say today, and I write anyway.
I write anyway because it’s the only way to figure out what I want to say.
I do yoga because it’s the only way to understand why yoga is important.
I run because it’s the only way to figure out why running is worth it.
I spend time with family because it’s the only way to understand why love is important.
There’s no need to wait for reasons of motivation.
You do what you do to figure out why you’re doing it.
Can I see the stars on a clear night? Or is light pollution blurring my vision?
Can I hear the voices in my mind? Or is noise pollution drowning out the quiet?
Can I feel the sensations stirring my body? Or are the superstimuli of the modern world numbing out my feelings?
Where else is overwhelming human-made input making me blind, deaf, numb to the natural world? To the wordless world? To my inner world?
Where am I missing out on Musenküsse, for lack of silence and empty space?
