#428 I can. And so can you.
I write every day, because I can. And so can you.
I don’t run every day, even though I could. And so could you.
Whether our mind allows us to see it or not, we always can.
We always have the time.
I write every day, because I can. And so can you.
I don’t run every day, even though I could. And so could you.
Whether our mind allows us to see it or not, we always can.
We always have the time.
You can wait to start writing until that moment when the frustration builds up so much that not writing becomes unbearable.
But why wait for the pain if you could just write today?
After all, you’re not waiting to become a writer. You’re already a writer. You’re just not writing. Yet.
And all of that can change in one moment of deciding not to wait, but to write.
Most things are hard and a challenge, until suddenly they aren’t anymore.
And then we’ll find a new challenge.
And maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be.
Perfectionism is the perfect excuse for not showing up.
If you don’t publish because you’re waiting for the perfect blog post, you’ll hide behind your desk forever – because there’ll always be something you can improve.
If you don’t go for a walk because you’re waiting for the perfect weather, you’ll be stuck forever inside – because there’ll always be a day with more sunshine or a nicer breeze.
If you wait to live the life you desire until you have the perfect age, amount of money, degree, or partner, you’ll wait until it’s too late to enjoy your life in the first place.
If you know things will never be perfect anyway, and you’re not allowed to wait until they’re perfect, or even until they’re “good enough”…
What could you start doing today? What have you been putting off?
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?”
Who you are and what you do consistently always coincide. After all, your repeated actions create your identity.
But who you want to be and what you consistently do don’t usually coincide. Otherwise, you would already have become who you want to be.
You want to be a writer, but you’re not consistently writing? Writing consistently will bridge the gap between your current and desired identity.
You want to be a guitar player, but you’re not consistently playing the guitar? Practicing daily will bridge the gap between your current and desired identity.
Could you make your actions coincide with your desired identity?
The only future we habitually see for ourselves is the one our past illuminates.
The moment we take a flashlight, intentionally aim our gaze, and look at what lies beyond the shade of the past, we see what’s truly possible for us.
It’s a counterintuitive process.
It takes courage and energy.
It’s what intentional living is all about.