You’ve spent your lifetime bumping into the limits of what you deem possible.
And you’ve also spent your lifetime overcoming the seemingly impossible.
Sit. Crawl. Walk. Speak. Read. Find love. Get over loss and heartbreak. Travel. Invent. Create. Learn. Write.
Overcoming the seemingly impossible is what makes you you.
Once you accept that, the question shifts from, “What’s possible for me?” to, “What are you overcoming next?”
Intentional living is about reminding yourself of what’s most important to you.
Reminding yourself that you can choose to be a writer, a runner, a musician, an artist, or a bon vivant.
Reminding yourself that you can choose to be kind to others.
Reminding yourself that you have a choice to act differently.
Reminding yourself that the past does not equal the future.
Reminding yourself that this, too, shall pass.
Reminding yourself that at any given moment, whatever reminder you need the most, you likely won’t think of yourself.
Reminding yourself that for this reason, it’s OK to get help and let someone else remind you with short daily notes.
And me, reminding myself that the act of writing daily reminders for you is the reminder I need to remember that I do, in fact, choose to be consistent, and I choose to be a writer.
Reminders upon reminders upon reminders that we will constantly get distracted, and we will always have the choice to come back to what truly matters.
Am I running to get in better shape or to get distracting thoughts out of my head?
Am I going out to enjoy being with friends or to forget my worries?
Am I writing to grow an audience or to process my own emotions?
What am I striving for?
Your answers may vary from day to day. There are no right or wrong answers anyway.
But that doesn’t mean it isn’t useful to understand why you behave the way you do.
Maybe it even makes you curious about why others behave the way they do, too.
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.
Only when you stop worrying about whether you’re a good writer do you have a shot at being a writer.
Only when you stop worrying about whether you’re a good friend, you have a shot at having true friendship.
Only when the worries stop, does the potential show up.
That’s it. Now write.
(Where else are you overcomplicating things to avoid getting started? More importantly: why are you avoiding getting started?)
The more frequent and the less intrusive the habit, the easier it is to stick to.
Commit to writing for an hour once week? You’ll find a million reasons to procrastinate until the very last moment, on Sunday night, to write.
Commit to writing for 5 minutes once a day? The timeline is so short, there are no more excuses.
Make it doable. Make it frequent. And suddenly every habit is within reach.
