#219 Can you see it?
I guess all I really want to say today is:
There’s something you’re doing great at.
There always is.
Can you see it?
I guess all I really want to say today is:
There’s something you’re doing great at.
There always is.
Can you see it?
On the days when I feel like everything I write is bad, I choose to be a writer.
On the days when I feel like the most inspired writer, I choose to be a writer.
On the days when I need to skip a day because life gets in the way, I choose to be a writer.
On the days when I don’t feel like a writer, I choose to be a writer.
And especially on the days when I don’t write, I choose to be a writer by trusting that soon enough, I’ll write again.
I choose to be a writer, not through pressuring myself into hardliner habits but through my daily commitment to the general direction I want my life to take.
Focus on making the majority of your actions and decisions align with who you want to be.
When you do that, you’ll always bounce back.
I can believe I’ve published the perfect insight – until I narrate the podcast version a couple of weeks later and suddenly notice subtle typos and, sometimes, logical flaws. The typos and flaws were always there – but did I make a mistake earlier?
I can believe I’ve nailed this yoga pose – until, during one session, I suddenly sense some tension in my neck I had never noticed before. The tension was always there – did I make a mistake earlier?
I can believe I’ve cooked the perfect dish – until one day, I notice that the sauce tastes even better with a little less salt. But, even before I noticed it, the improvement was always there – did I make a mistake earlier?
Maybe learning is not about errors but about gaining ever more subtle awareness.
Will you ever write that book?
Who knows. We’ll see.
So for now, just focus on who you want to be.
Do that every day, and wherever you end up, is where you’re supposed to be.
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.
For all the languages I’ve learned
trying in vain to put the inner and outer world into words
closely but not completely capturing the essence
I now realize the biggest insights reveal themselves
where words are worthless and feelings reign
where they are felt and lived, embodied,
refusing to be rationalized, categorized
or undergo the violent limitations of our words.
Maybe language learning is more about admitting that some languages are lived, not learned.
That some insights are felt, not expressed.
That sometimes words create distance from what we experience deep down, instead of offering the clarity we seek.
Accepting that may well be the biggest challenge of all.
There is a voice that doesn’t use words. Listen.
Rumi
Ernest Hemingway allegedly stopped his writing sessions in the middle of a sentence so he knew how to start his next session. He stopped writing, even if he could do more.
Julia Cameron teaches to write precisely three pages of stream-of-consciousness journaling a day. Stop journaling, even if you could do more.
I’ve gotten better results studying foreign languages 20 minutes a day for several months than rushing into a new language and studying it for 3 hours a day, then crashing and burning. I stop myself from learning, even if I could do more.
Because burnout and overindulgence stifle progress, and in the long run, moderation leads to more.