Similar Posts

  • | |

    #32 Before I learned not to listen

    Before I learned not to listen
    I would stand
    seemingly still
    but secretly swaying
    swallowed up by a willow tree
    and its play with the wind

    Before I learned not to listen
    I would hold my head against the rind
    reach
    reconnect with an old friend
    the way it has always felt best
    cheek pressed to chest

    Before I learned not to listen
    a breeze in the leaves
    rustling ruminating
    would sound like raindrops in my ears
    making my eyes answer
    with a torrent of tears

    Before I learned not to listen
    a rolling thunder
    thumping like a beating heart
    would rumble from my cheek to my ear
    replacing my fear
    with a memory I used to held dear
    we were never really apart

    Before I learned not to listen
    before the lust for language
    reduced what I could see
    and sense within
    I would allow the whispers of the wordless world
    speak to me like kin

    Before I learned not to listen
    I would accept
    that once upon a time
    I remembered your name
    and once upon a time we both knew
    we were one and all the same

    Lukas Van Vyve
  • | |

    #26 Becoming less blind to what’s already here

    I write about the same topics over and over again, with slightly different words.

    I listen to people explaining the same topics over and over again, with a slightly different interpretation.

    I practice the same breathing exercises every day, becoming aware of changes so subtle it’s hard to believe they make any difference.

    While all that energy spent on what seems like “repeating” and “reviewing” might seem like a waste of time, the constant revisiting of things we already know is how I grow.

    Because with every repetition I’m discovering a new part of the same insight.

    A new nuance that in itself might seem insignificant, but added to my personal experience, insights, understanding, might make all the difference.

    And with every new insight, I become a little less blind to what’s already here.

    In the process, I have to accept that the perfect words might never come.

    The perfect explanation might never come.

    The perfect execution of a skill might never happen.

    But if I stay the course, my understanding of what matters to me in life will always keep growing.

    At some point, through all the practicing, learning, reading, writing, I might stumble upon a groundbreaking insight.

    Or maybe it never happens.

    It doesn’t matter. I feel fulfilled regardless… As long as I keep sculpting away, day by day.

  • |

    #221 How to appease the worrier mind

    How likely is the scenario you’re worrying about?
    And how impactful or life-threatening is that scenario?
    Now, how much mental bandwidth is worrying about it taking up?
    Are your worries proportionate to the actual danger?
    Should you be worrying at all?
    If not, could you stop right away?


    Of course, you and I both know that’s not always how it works, my friend.

    Because even if we know rationally that we shouldn’t worry, the worrier mind tends to scoff at answering rational questions.

    Yet today, I had an insight: maybe those questions aren’t meant to dismiss the worrier mind at all but empower the sane mind, temporarily suppressed and overpowered?

    Maybe they can provide enough encouragement to make the sane mind stand up for itself again and say, “Enough is enough.”

    Maybe that way, the sane mind will put the worrier mind back in its place, reminding it of the only task where it truly shines: protect us from life-threatening risks.

    Or maybe not. I don’t know, my friend. You’ve seen me: I’m just another human with good days and bad—productive days and lazy. Days of irrational fears and worry, and days of relaxing, dreaming, and visioning.

    But this I do know: worrying too much has never improved my mood, and I doubt it has ever improved yours.

    So if you’ve had an overactive worrier mind lately, trying won’t hurt.

    Let me know how it goes.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *