Everything is impossible until suddenly it’s possible.
And then you’ll find the next thing that’s impossible.
The cycle of piercing through the veil is impossibility is eternal.
Frustrating when you forget.
Comforting when you remember.
The normal want to be special
The special want to be normal
We all want to be what we aren’t
Because if you already are
How can you ever desire?
Performance gap: the frustrating gap between the way you know something should be done in an ideal world and the way you currently do it.
I know I should write daily blog posts in advance so I have a buffer in case something comes up and I don’t get to write. Yet here I am, writing this daily insight hours before the publication date.
I know what the perfect downward-facing dog pose in yoga looks like. Yet when I perform it myself, I am far off from that ideal pose.
I know all the ingredients that make up a solid, convincing speech. Yet when I write one myself, I am only able to incorporate a few of those ingredients.
Learning, then, is closing the gap between your intellectual understanding of an ideal product, action, or skill, and your current rendition of it.
Don’t be so hard on yourself for your current performance.
You can’t expect to turn intellectual understanding into mastery and internalized knowledge right away.
You don’t have to master this today.
You’re on a lifelong journey, and it’ll be over before you know it.
Which doesn’t mean you’re in a rush.
After all, who’s to say that going slow and intentional won’t give you a longer life than rushing through the days to cram in as much as possible?
We all live in a maze of mistranslations and misunderstandings about who we think you are and who others think we are.
Now, by lack of a way to know who we truly are, misunderstandings can be comforting, my friend; there’s no doubt about that.
But when you get so lost in the maze that it causes suffering, it might be time to start mending the misunderstandings.
Could it be that mending is nothing more than making another mistranslation about who we are that makes us happier?
After all, I can perceive myself as a struggling writer or a skilled wordsmith – both perspectives hold their truths.
It’s the power of our misunderstandings that molds our reality.
Sometimes I ask myself if you are asking yourself why I write you a short note every day, my friend.
Maybe I’m giving myself too much credit, and you’ve never asked yourself that question.
But I will answer it anyway, so let’s pretend you have.
Here’s the socially acceptable answer: for more than 200 days, I’ve been writing you a short note every day to remind you to make intelligent decisions about your life and who you want to be.
But as so often with us humans, the honest answer is more self-centered: I write you a short note every day to remind myself to make intelligent decisions about my life and who I want to be.
The fact that some insights are helpful to you is a nice bonus. But I would also write them if you have yet to read a single one of these insights.
Because to me, writing every day is a rallying cry for myself in an invisible battle that nobody might ever see – because it only exists in my head.
A battle against frustration, giving up, limiting beliefs, and a cage of social conditioning from which it’s hard to break free.
A battle to become who I’ve always wanted to be.
Yes, every note I write to you, my friend, is outward proof of a tiny inner victory, taking tiny steps towards more self-trust and fulfillment.
You may tell me I don’t have anything to prove to anyone, especially not myself.
And you may be right.
But I also know that we all have our battles to fight.
Battles about what we believe we deserve or not.
What we think we can do or not.
What we believe is possible for us or not.
What we desire.
Who we can be.
So while you might not be asking yourself why I write you something every day, I am asking myself which battles you are fighting.
I am looking for outward proof of your inner victories.
Whatever they are, when you shine a light on your invisible battles, I’ll be here to cheer you on.
When writing, the most hurtful words enter your head when no words leave your pen.
A blank page is a mirror of our own insecurities, frightening, judgmental…
I found the only way to get through is meeting myself where I am.
Inspired, afraid, angry, frustrated, fearful of poor work, poor words, or no words at all…
This is where the journey starts.
The moment I accept that, I am free again.
This is why I love Stream-Of-Consciousness writing. Whatever state I am in, I transfer the stream of thoughts, the inner dialogue to the page, and see where the flow takes me.
Here’s what I’ve learned: it always takes me somewhere.
And that’s enough to get started.
Because a blank page is also a promise of all my creative potential, waiting to materialize.
And when the words finally emerge
everything flows
and my self-trust grows.
