Not taking action on your dreams won’t get you anywhere.
But taking too much action will burn you out – and won’t get you anywhere either.
In an ideal world:
Getting worked up about traffic jams is not pleasant, but it’s predictable. And addictive.
So is giving up on writing a book, quitting a workout regime, and re-living any conflict or failure.
Not pleasant. But predictable.
This is how you’ve always felt. And this is how you’ll always feel – unless you become aware of the unpleasant, predictable, addictive patterns and decide to act differently.
Not only once, not twice, but every time you become aware of the pattern until you’ve built enough self-trust that you know the unpleasant predictable events aren’t inevitable.
When everything is urgent, how do we know what to do first?
One solution is adding more nuance:
What’s the most urgent?
What’s the most important?
Breathing is urgent.
A crying child is urgent.
A toilet visit can be urgent.
Sending that email out tonight right before bed instead of tomorrow, maybe not so much?
Here’s the important question:
If you’re going to prioritize the urgent matters anyway, why stress yourself out by calling everything urgent in the first place?
Making everything urgent devalues truly urgent matters.
Because when everything is urgent, nothing is urgent anymore.
Progress is a silent play, but it’s the whispers of daily practice that leads to the roars of fulfilment.
Even your “bad days” are stepping stones to a brighter “good day”.
Slow and steady.
5 billion years ago, our solar system didn’t exist in its current form – but the laws of our universe already held the promise that one day, an earth like ours would revolve around a sun.
That earth has been revolving around the sun long before any human started observing planetary orbits and realized we’re not the center of the universe.
Animals, plants, mountains and oceans have instinctively dealt with the law of gravity long before an apple fell on Newton’s head.
Energy and mass have been two sides of the same coind long before Einstein proposed a formula for mass-energy equivalence (E = mc²).
Knowledge: invented or discovered?
More importantly: what do we do with all that knowledge – and the power it give us?
100 years ago, nuclear weapons didn’t exist yet – but the atomic building blocks and reactions making it possible have always been hidden inside the earth and the universe.
50 years ago, the internet wasn’t “invented” yet – but the concept of an internet has always been possible.
Today, general artificial intelligence don’t exist yet. Yet it seems that the laws of the universe have always made developing artificial life a possibility – even if it means biological life becomes obsolete.
Do we pursue power
Lukas Van Vyve
persistently pushing the frontier
even if we run the risk
that we destroy everything we hold dear?
People can think you’re not good at writing, and you can still write – and love it.
You can think you’re not good at writing, and you can still write – and love it.
You can think you’ll never be good at writing, and you can still write – and love it.
Because whether you’re good at something or not is nowhere nearly as relevant as how fulfilled it makes you feel.
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.
