There’s nothing wrong with chasing quick wins, as long as you define them well.
Because the first quick wins are usually internal and invisible.
Only when you’ve won some battles against the inner critic who wants you to give up do the external quick wins kick in.
And that’s how it’s supposed to be.
“No more,” you said.
“No more of this.”
And that’s when that what you really wanted finally became possible.
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.
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.
A compelling vision of who I want to be doesn’t just guide my present actions and brings me toward a fulfilling future.
It also helps me deal with the suffering that’s part of living in a complex physical body with a complex mind in a complex society in a complex, uncontrollable world.
Because no matter how strong my vision or purpose is, and no matter what I do or say, inevitable hardship will happen anyway.
So if I know why I’m doing what I do, why I’m going where I go, and why I’m becoming who I want to be, then hopefully, when life gets rough, I’ll react in a better way.
I’ll trust myself to handle the unavoidable suffering.
I’ll trust myself to minimize how much I add to the suffering.
And that makes the future just a little bit brighter for me, everyone, and everything around me.
Trying to become good fast makes you impatient. And impatience may well stop you from ever becoming good in the first place.
Because the only way to become good is by understanding that in today’s practice session, you likely won’t be perfect anyway.
That you likely won’t write your most insightful words.
That you likely won’t run an all-time best.
That you’ll likely spend a large part of your yoga session stumbling and losing balance.
When you go into your practice session with that mindset…
Suddenly it makes sense to focus hard on getting that one sentence right.
Now it makes sense to focus on rhythmic breathing while running instead of pushing for a better time.
Now it makes sense to focus on a tiny part of your body during an entire yoga session to train your awareness instead of trying to chase poses because “they look professional.”
Even if there is not much time to “become good,” it still makes sense to assume there is time.
Because that gives you the freedom to focus on the small adjustments that prepare you for when the time comes, and you truly need to perform.
Since I’m always practicing anyway, I don’t have to be good at this today.
Actions overrule thoughts, and sometimes the best creative act – and the one requiring the most discipline – is doing nothing.
Because when you slow down your pace, suddenly you realize: there’s space.
There’s space for the thoughts and feelings you were so afraid to face.
There’s space to redirect the energy you’ve misplaced.
There’s space to rediscover everything that escaped your gaze while you were engaged in an endless rat race.
There’s space for you to remember
that before you learned not to listen
and constant distraction erased every trace
of the insights you so desperately chase
there was a place of stillness
a warm embrace
where all the answers were right there, in your face
Only when you’ve slowed down your mind’s pace
you realize
you were never out of place
you were navigating a self-inflicted maze
with only one way out:
Make space.
