#208 How to get out of your self-improvement prison

ByLukas
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You feel bad because you don’t write.

And when you write, you feel bad because you’re scared of the inevitable day you stop writing.

That’s how you create a self-improvement prison.

And that prison has only one way out.

Intend to do what’s good for you.

Then realize that even if you don’t live up to that standard all the time, you’re still worthy of self-love and self-trust.

Focus on intention, not outcome.

Focus on cultivating elastic discipline rather than on becoming a habit hardliner.

Focus on the general direction of your life, not a day-by-day judgment of your every action.

Maintain a majority vote for who you want to be.

Realize you’re not going to be perfect today – and being perfect isn’t the goal anyway.

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    #48 Volume matters

    ByLukas

    The Pareto principle states that for many outcomes, roughly 80% of consequences come from 20% of causes (the “vital few”).

    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pareto_principle

    I’m okay with publishing 80% rubbish if that’s what it takes to stumble upon something good.

    But if only 20% of what I publish is any good, and I publish one post a week, then on average, I’ll only publish something insightful once every five weeks.

    If I publish once a day, then on average, I’ll publish something insightful more than once a week.

    This is why I’m okay with publishing a daily blog post.

    It’ also why I write pages and pages of stream-of-consciousness journaling every day, most of it rubbish, whining, scattered thoughts, if that’s what it takes to get to that one insight or breakthrough. Sculpting away, day by day.

    Write more rubbish, and you’ll write more good stuff too.

    Volume matters.

  • |

    #133 How to Get Irrefutable Proof of Progress

    ByLukas

    “Getting better” at something is not a linear process.

    You can practice every day and not see any progress.

    In fact, you can practice every day and notice deterioration.

    But it’s impossible to practice every day without building the self-trust that you have the discipline to practice every day.

    I might not have clear proof that I’m becoming a better writer, but I have irrefutable proof that I wrote today, yesterday, and the past 138 days.

    And because I write every day, the evidence is building that I am, in fact, a writer.

    As my actions shift my identity, the probability that I’ll keep writing increases.

    And as long as I keep writing, the probability of writing better work increases.

    Tiny Trust Builders are the only reliable proof of progress.

  • #33 There’s power in publishing imperfect work.

    ByLukas

    656 days ago, I started writing 3 pages of stream-of-consciousness journaling a day.

    That’s an inner dialogue of 1968 pages poured into piles of journals now safely stuffed away.

    30 days ago, some of those thoughts started making their way to my blog.

    I promised myself that if I made it to 30 daily posts in a row, I would start sharing them.

    Today is the day, so here goes.

    I’m sharing daily observations about language, language learning, memory, creativity, habits, discipline, the art of learning, tools for thought.

    Lessons I’ve learned.
    Insights I’ve earned.

    Words I’ve heard.
    Memories spurred.

    Books I’ve read.
    Poems flowing out of my heart and head.

    No rules, no fixed topic, no niche, no marketing strategy.
    Nothing but whatever’s on my mind.

    I’ve learned a lot so far, but the most important insight: there’s power in publishing imperfect work.

    Because if I allow myself to create something imperfect every day, I’m certain that someday the sum of all these imperfect creations will be something I’m proud of.

    It’s liberating.

    Maybe there’s liberating power in reading someone else’s imperfect work too.

    I can’t wait to find out together with you.

    If you like what you see, sign up for the newsletter 🙂

  • |

    #173 Are errors truly errors?

    ByLukas

    I can believe I’ve published the perfect insight – until I narrate the podcast version a couple of weeks later and suddenly notice subtle typos and, sometimes, logical flaws. The typos and flaws were always there – but did I make a mistake earlier? 

    I can believe I’ve nailed this yoga pose – until, during one session, I suddenly sense some tension in my neck I had never noticed before. The tension was always there – did I make a mistake earlier? 

    I can believe I’ve cooked the perfect dish – until one day, I notice that the sauce tastes even better with a little less salt. But, even before I noticed it, the improvement was always there – did I make a mistake earlier?

    Maybe learning is not about errors but about gaining ever more subtle awareness.

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