#237 I can do that
“I can only do that when…”
Remove the “only” and the when”.
I can do that.
And so can you.
“I can only do that when…”
Remove the “only” and the when”.
I can do that.
And so can you.
“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.
The article I publish today may be worse than one I wrote 2 months ago.
I may struggle today with a guitar piece I played effortlessly last week.
And when I meditate today, my mind may be all over the place, even though last week it was calm as water.
On any given day, I may feel that I’m making progress, that I’ve reached a plateau, or even that I’m going backwards.
But it doesn’t matter.
Progress isn’t always visible in daily practice. But without daily practice, there is no progress.
If I stick to daily practice, on average, I’ll get better. I’ll start having more good days than bad. And slowly but surely, my ‘bad days’ will start being better than what I consider a ‘good day’ right now.
Progress, averaged out is what it’s all about.
When it comes to habits, the missing piece of the puzzle is often the very first one.
Even more often, it’s not even opening the box to see what’s inside.
Because looking at the picture on the box is safer, easier, and sometimes just the best option.
But it’s not fulfilling.
And if it’s not fulfilling, what’s it all about?
For all the languages I’ve learned
trying in vain to put the inner and outer world into words
closely but not completely capturing the essence
I now realize the biggest insights reveal themselves
where words are worthless and feelings reign
where they are felt and lived, embodied,
refusing to be rationalized, categorized
or undergo the violent limitations of our words.
Maybe language learning is more about admitting that some languages are lived, not learned.
That some insights are felt, not expressed.
That sometimes words create distance from what we experience deep down, instead of offering the clarity we seek.
Accepting that may well be the biggest challenge of all.
There is a voice that doesn’t use words. Listen.
Rumi
A memory is what we decide to remember from an experience – and what we decide to delete and forget.
Intuition is the instant hunch we get after we’ve repeatedly created memories from experiences; the moment we don’t need the conscious memory anymore.
A small (or unrepresentative) sample size leads to inaccurate intuition.
If I’m betrayed three times in my life and have created strong memories around that, my intuition whenever meeting anyone else may be that they’ll betray me too. Three bad experiences have shaped, and skewed, my relationship to billions of others.
How to develop accurate intuition?
The more memories we create, the bigger the “sample size” for our intuition to emerge from, and the smaller the weight of “outlier events” (like being betrayed).
The more deliberately we create these memories, the more deliberately we hone intuition.
Create more memories. And create them deliberately.
Without sadness, how do I know I’m happy?
Without happiness, how do I know I’m sad?
Without anger, how do I know I’m grateful?
Without gratitude, how do I know I’m angry?
Without pain, how do I know what pleasure feels like?
Without pleasure, how do I know I’m in pain?
Without bad moments, how can I appreciate the good ones?
Without good moments, what gets me through the bad ones?
Contrast.