If you’re curious about one topic, you can stay curious, even if your interests change over time.
If you’re kind to one person, you can stay kind when talking to other people.
If you showed leadership in your last job, you can show leadership in your new job.
You can be consistent in how you do things, without having to be consistent in what you do.
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.
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.
Stream Of Consciousness writing isn’t about what you write. It’s about the very fact that you’re writing.
Nobody cares about the words on the pages. Nobody will read them anyway. Neither should you.
This is not a novel. This is not a love song. This is not a poem. This is but an externalization of your mind’s chatter. Ugly, pretty, insightful, bland. It doesn’t matter.
There’s no great work. Nor is there any bad work. No high standards, no judgment. Nothing but what flows out of your mind.
So if none of it matters… why bother to write Stream of Consciousness?
Because it forces you to slow down.
Because it forces you to pay attention to what’s on your mind.
Because it forces you to listen to the way you talk to yourself.
Because it helps you get all the overwhelming thoughts and worries out of your system.
Because it helps you gain clarity.
And because sometimes, insights emerge. Not necessarily in the words on the page. But due to the fact that you’re writing the words on the page.
Stream Of Consciousness journaling is writing. Venting. Self-therapy. Problem-solving. Meditation. Goal-setting. Creative liberation. And anything else you want it to be.
Because you have all of that in you already – if only you’d re-learn to listen.
And listening to yourself, it turns out, is much easier when you put it all on the page.
I could decide that writing less than 1000 words a day would be a failure – and I would be correct.
I could decide that writing more than 50 words a day would be a failure – and I would be correct.
I could decide that not writing today would be failure – and I would be correct.
After all, for many things in life, you get to decide yourself what’s failure and what’s success.
In fact, my friend, just like me you may have already decided for yourself what’s failure and what’s success.
And just like me, you may need a reminder of that decision once in a while, so you can verify if it still serves you.
This is that reminder.
Which serves me well, because my decision was that writing you this short daily letter is exactly right.
See you tomorrow.
Things may look backwards today.
But one day, you’ll look back and realize that it was part of your roadmap.
Maybe a byway.
Maybe a detour.
But never not part of your roadmap.
Regardless of your path, tomorrow is another day.
Follow the roadmap, no matter what.
Afer all…
What else can you do?
“Don’t you ever run out of ways to write a letter every day on the same topic?” I imagine you ask me.
In fact, I don’t have to imagine it. I have been asked this question many a time. Not in the least by myself.
Yet here we are, over 200 days in, and I’ve learned that there are many more ways to say the same thing than I ever thought possible.
What’s more: I’ve learned that they’re all equally important.
Because today’s letter could be what finally makes it click for you.
Because today’s letter could be what finally makes it click for me.
Because today’s letter invalidates my scarcity beliefs around idea generation – after all, if I can come up with a new letter every day for 200+ days, where else do I mistakenly believe I’ll run out of ideas, opportunities, or possibilities?
And, of course, because today’s letter is my personal Tiny Trust Builder.
So for as long as I can, for as long as I need it, and for as long as I believe YOU need it, you’ll receive a letter every day.
That’s right: every day, more wordplay
finding a thousand ways to say
that no matter what comes your way
only your self-trust is here to stay.
