Make your habits easy to stick to by making them tiny.
Make your habits tiny to make it easy to build self-trust.
Make your habits part of your identity, so that you’re not scared to answer the following question anymore:
Did you do it or not?
It’s not possible for you to stop being a writer.
It’s only possible to forget you’re meant to be a writer.
Similary, you’ll never “turn into a writer”.
You reduce resistance until you’ve set free the writer in you.
I can write today, resent myself for not writing… or stop caring at all about writing.
I can publish a blog post today, resent myself for not posting, or stop caring at all about blog posts.
Taking action on something I care about is a valid choice.
Stopping to care about taking a certain action is an equally valid choice.
Resenting myself for not taking an action I care about… that’s a choice for self-torture.
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.
I’m not writing because I can’t write?
I’m not playing the guitar because I’m bad at music?
I’m not learning a language because I’m bad at learning languages?
That’s the world on its head.
The truth is: you can’t write because you’re not writing.
You can’t play the guitar because you’re not playing the guitar.
You can’t speak the language because you’re not learning the language.
If you would write every day, cognitive dissonance starts doing its work. Your actions will overrule your thoughts and beliefs.
And every day you write, you’re becoming a writer.
Every day you play the guitar, you’re becoming a guitar player.
Every day you learn a language, you’re becoming a language learner.
The only reason you can’t do it because you’re not doing it.
Don’t get it backwards.
The first hour after I was born, 60 minutes encapsulated my entire life outside the womb.
An hour is an eternity.
When I celebrated my first trip around the sun, one year encapsulated my entire life outside the womb.
An hour is not that long anymore. But a year… that’s an eternity.
When I’ll celebrate my 30th birthday next year, one year encapsulates about 1/30th of my experience in this body here on earth.
A year is not that long anymore. But 30 years… that’s an eternity.
Lukas Van Vyve
There’s an absolute, immutable version of time, and then there’s our felt interpretation, which speeds up with every passing moment because we compare it to all the “time we’ve lived so far”.
Maybe that’s why the older we get, the more effort it takes to stay in the present moment?
Because, unlike a newborn child, for whom, compared to its short lifespan, an hour is an eternity, and every second is an opportunity to discover, drink in the world, explore…
We’ve lived so many hours, minutes, and seconds that we don’t care anymore.
with every passing year
Lukas Van Vyve
i’m more in a hurry
and the days, minutes, seconds
become ever more blurry
i can live fast and miss out
or slow down
listen, look around
be here, right now
let the world whisper loud
what life is all about
and at last
i hear you again.
Think you don’t have any good ideas to write about? Write anyway. Then write some more. The ideas might well reveal themselves on the page. (Morning Pages are good for this)
Have an idea but struggle to put it into words? Write anyway… Then write some more.
Struggling to edit your work and get it to a level where you believe it’s “publish-worthy”? Publish it anyway. especially when it’s imperfect. Once you see nothing bad happens when there’s a typo or an awkward sentence, your self-trust grows, your editing will become less judgmental, and your creativity will soar.
Scared of publishing your work, being judged, being seen? Publish anyway. Then publish some more. When you increase your publishing frequency, there’s less burden on that one post, video, book, piece of art.
You can only overcome the objections your mind invents by not letting them stop you from sculpting away, day by day.
