#213 Comfortable dissatisfaction

You can wait to start writing until that moment when the frustration builds up so much that not writing becomes unbearable.

But why wait for the pain if you could just write today?

After all, you’re not waiting to become a writer. You’re already a writer. You’re just not writing. Yet.

And all of that can change in one moment of deciding not to wait, but to write.

If writing and creating every day were as vital to my survival as drinking water, ingesting food, and bonding… What would life look like?

Biologically, all behavior is driven by pain, pleasure, and the triggers and habits that come from repeated reaction to those stimuli.

So I eat because I want to escape the pain of hunger – or heartbreak, sadness, and frustration.

I connect with others because I’m neurologically hardwired to feel pleasure when bonding… and pain and deprivation when I’m abandoned.

Similarly, I write because I want to escape the frustration of not being able to put into words an insight.

I also write because I enjoy the rush resulting from finding the words that convey what I want to say.

I write because I love the tingling in my back and neck when I combine those words into sentences with just the right rhythm, just the right cadence capturing the meaning, context, emotion of what I want to say…

I write because writing wrests the essence from the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions racing through my mind and body.

I write because when when I write, I feel that at last, I can make sense of life.

And the more meaning I find, the more likely I am to write.

Playing the guitar hasn’t taught me to move my hands and fingers across strings. It has taught me to persevere whenever I’m failing over and over again until suddenly, it all clicks and the words, music, or movements flow.

Yoga hasn’t taught me to put my body in awkward poses. It has taught me to be aware of – and release – the tension in my body whenever I sit, walk, stand, and run.

Taking cold showers hasn’t taught me to withstand cold water. It has taught me to know to relax whenever my body tenses up in stress and my heart starts racing.

Learning a foreign language hasn’t taught me to say the same things with different words. It has taught me that there are different ways of perceiving the wordless world around me, and expressing what I feel inside.

When we isolate insights, most of the learning is lost on us.

Learn thematically. Ask yourself, “Where else does this apply?”

The other day, I talked about changing your focus to change how you feel about the events in your day.

But something strange happened when I first had that realization.

It didn’t feel like a relief.

Do I even want that responsibility? To choose how events affect me?

After all, that would take away my right to complain about how poorly life treats me.
I couldn’t ascribe any successes or achievements to “sheer luck” anymore.
And wouldn’t it be silly to say I don’t deserve happiness, luck, or anything good if I knew I could change my focus and be lucky this very moment?

What a burden.

I’m still deciding if I am strong enough to carry it.

But one thing’s for sure: the days I have the presence of mind to direct my focus are the days I feel best.

I wonder if it’d be like that for you, too.

Maybe you could try it out? Even if it’s to indulge me.

See how it feels.

And let me know how it goes. I’m curious about you.