#421 The best time to start
Yesterday could have been a good time to start.
Tomorrow may be a good time to start.
But now is always the best time to start.
Yesterday could have been a good time to start.
Tomorrow may be a good time to start.
But now is always the best time to start.
And the next day, it rains.
And the next day, the sun shines bright.
And every day, we show up, and we fight.
Learning a skill isn’t so much about getting better – that’s just a side effect.
It’s about discovering new ways of doing the same thing – just because you can, and just because you’re curious.
Doing the same thing, this time precisely – then doing it again, not precisely at all.
Doing the same thing, this time deliberately, carefully thinking about every step – then doing it again, not thinking about any steps at all.
When you stay curious, you learn to discover nuances you couldn’t perceive before.
When you stay curious, you learn to be deliberate until you can be intuitive.
When you stay curious, you learn to become less blind to what’s already here.
And when you stay curious, you realize there’s not much more to a fulfilling life than sculpting away, day by day – and anything can be a fulfilling skill.
When writing, the most hurtful words enter your head when no words leave your pen.
A blank page is a mirror of our own insecurities, frightening, judgmental…
I found the only way to get through is meeting myself where I am.
Inspired, afraid, angry, frustrated, fearful of poor work, poor words, or no words at all…
This is where the journey starts.
The moment I accept that, I am free again.
This is why I love Stream-Of-Consciousness writing. Whatever state I am in, I transfer the stream of thoughts, the inner dialogue to the page, and see where the flow takes me.
Here’s what I’ve learned: it always takes me somewhere.
And that’s enough to get started.
Because a blank page is also a promise of all my creative potential, waiting to materialize.
And when the words finally emerge
everything flows
and my self-trust grows.
Go slow.
Go steady.
Do whatever it takes.
But don’t wait to go until you feel ready.
If you knew you’d always feel unsatisfied with what you write, would you still let satisfaction play a role in your writing process?
If you knew your writing would always be criticized by others, no matter how good it is, would you still let their criticism determine whether you should publish?
If you’d take the fear that stops you the most and rob it of its power, would you write and publish more?
Memory is context – in language and in general.
Context of words surrounded by other words and sounds within a sentence.
Context of words surrounded by actions – actor, action, object affected (in whatever way or order your mother tongue expresses it).
Context of words and the images they spur.
Context of words and the feelings they evoke.
When learning another language, you can link words to the context of your mother tongue.
But to truly understand them, you’ll have to create a new context too.
For example, an apple in Spanish: una manzana.
Seemingly the same object, now perceived through new sounds.
New actions.
New images.
New feelings.
Keeping all that in mind, are we really still talking about the same object? Is the Spanish manzana encerada that made me sick in Spanish the same as the apple my grandpa helped me pick? If it is, do I now have a richer perception of that object that once up on a time, I could only interact with through the limits of one language?
Learning vocabulary lists with isolated words will never get you fluent in a foreign language.
If you don’t build a new context of sounds, actions, images, feelings, you’ll always keep imposing your mother tongue on the foreign language.
That’s why you can’t just learn a foreign language. You have to live it.