Thinking about writing makes the writing harder.
Dreaming about writing makes the writing harder.
Planning my writing sessions makes the writing harder.
But writing… that makes the writing easier.
Because most things become easier when you actually do them instead of just think about them.
Can’t write at your usual time? Sway, and write later in the day anyway.
A work project doesn’t go your way? Sway, remember your ultimate goal, and keep going anyway.
Can’t go for your usual run because your knee hurts when you woke up? Sway, realize there are more ways to prepare for a marathon than just running, then do a prep session anyway.
If you don’t want to let the day-to-day sway you in your purpose, you must sway with the day-to-day.
When things don’t go your way, sway – but find a way to make progress anyway.
It’s about the way you say, “I’m tired, and I’m here anyway.”
It’s about the way you say, “I’m exhausted, I’m skipping this one, and that’s okay, because I’ll be back on track the next day.”
It’s about the way you say, “Come what may, I’m in this, and from my chosen path, I won’t be led astray.”
It’s about intentionality and elastic discipline.
It’s about direction.
Most of all, it’s about feeling good, not guilty.
Language helps us describe the world we perceive. Yet in doing so, it closes our eyes, our ears, our touch, and our heart to the parts of the world we don’t have words for.
Every language is a lens on a felt reality within and around us – both clarifying and categorizing the world, and limiting it by the words it has available.
Learning more languages gives you new lenses – and a richer sense of reality.
But just like the structure of our ears limit the sounds we can hear, and the structure of our eyes limit colors we can see, the structure of any language somehow limits our felt experience of the world.
How do we re-access memories, emotions, hidden away in a long-forgotten language?
How do we re-learn to listen to the voices of the wordless world speaking to our animal self… the voices that once upon a time, before verbal language emerged, were all we had?
there’s an eternal song
drowned out by the confines of my mother tongue
a wordless melody that once made sense
until our brain started blurring it with a lens
narrowing it down
neglecting its nuances through verbs and nounswith all its might language wants us to abide
Lukas Van Vyve
but the wordless world it tries to hide
will forever be inside
On the days when I feel like everything I write is bad, I choose to be a writer.
On the days when I feel like the most inspired writer, I choose to be a writer.
On the days when I need to skip a day because life gets in the way, I choose to be a writer.
On the days when I don’t feel like a writer, I choose to be a writer.
And especially on the days when I don’t write, I choose to be a writer by trusting that soon enough, I’ll write again.
I choose to be a writer, not through pressuring myself into hardliner habits but through my daily commitment to the general direction I want my life to take.
Focus on making the majority of your actions and decisions align with who you want to be.
When you do that, you’ll always bounce back.
Appreciation arises from contrast.
How can I enjoy food without knowing what it’s like to be hungry?
How can I appreciate the beauty of a painting without comparing it to something I’ve experienced as ugly?
How can I appreciate social connections without being familiar with solitude? (Not loneliness. Solitude.)
Constant connectivity (especially shallow connections through social media apps) without breaks from socializing numbs the whole bonding experience.
Alternating socializing with solitude warms the heart.
Inspired by Cal Newport’s excellent book Digital Minimalism.
When technology and AI outpace us and we can’t be the best, smartest, fastest, strongest on the planet anymore – will we still care about our economic output?
When results have become irrelevant, what are the things I will still want to do?
Maybe we’ll rediscover value in our actions themselves and the pleasure and pain they make us feel – happy, sad, useful, worthless, brimming with purpose, overflowing with self-hatred…?
Will I still write just because I enjoy writing, even if AI could write a better-researched, more insightful book than I ever could?
Will I still learn a language just because learning a language makes me feel good, even if I could use an instant translation device to talk to anyone in the world?
Will I still spend my days in an office cubicle if that’s a painful prospect?
An era of soul-searching is coming.
