I am tired today.
But I’ll write you something either way, my friend.
Maybe not a full essay.
Maybe just a little wordplay.
But I’ll write you either way.
Why, you say?
Simple.
Because I want this, I want us to be one of those habits that are here to stay.
What are you doing either way because you want it to be one of those habits that are here to stay?
“I’m not negotiating with myself. I signed that contract with myself, I’m doing it.” – Kobe Bryant
— Kobe Highlights & Motivation (@kobehighlight) January 1, 2022
Mamba motivation to start the New Year (via Jay Shetty).
pic.twitter.com/CZMfnezIQx
I commit to taking a cold shower. To publish a daily blog post. To do a yoga class, because these actions contribute to my vision for who I want to be.
I commit, despite the knowledge that when the time has come, right before I turn the shower tap to cold, I won’t want to take a cold shower.
That right before I start writing an article, my mind will throw a million distractios at me.
That right before my yoga workout, my mind will start negotiating with itself, coming up with reasons why I’d better do something else.
“Today it’s cold outside, what if I start tomorrow?”
“I don’t feel like it today, maybe I’ll just write two articles tomorrow?”
“{{insert any excuse my mind makes up to avoid short-term discomfort}}
But now is not the time to negotiate.
Do I choose the long-term pain of regret over the short-term pain of discipline?
Do I choose to cultivate a procrastinator identity, or do I become a go-getter?
Who do I want (and choose) to be?
I can evaluate and adjust my plan afterwards.
But now is not the time to negotiate.
You don’t have to feel ready to be a successful writer to pick up a pen or open a document and write today.
In fact, you’ll probably never feel ready to be a successful writer unless you write today.
This means, strangely enough, that despite how you feel in this very moment, you are entirely ready.
Ready to take the first step.
To know what you’re going to write, you have to begin writing.
Similarly, to know why you’re writing, you have to begin writing.
The lure towards writing is what sets you in motion.
And so it goes for drawing. Singing. Building. Entrepreneurship. Creating. Meeting friends. Lovers. Life partners.
The act itself is what reveals both the purpose and the shape.
Where am I scared of getting what I want, stopping myself from seeing that I already have it?
Where am I addicted to the feeling of not having what I want, to the degree that I can’t see I already have it?
Where has a feeling of scarcity become the goal I pursue, stopping me from feeling fulfilled?
My actions affect my identity and beliefs.
And my identity and beliefs affect which actions I take.
So, to change, I must consciously take actions that divert from my established identity and beliefs, and do what you believe is impossible for yourself.
Until it’s not impossible anymore.
It’s not an easy road, my friend. It takes courage. Effort. Sometimes pain.
Many times, it’s not worth it.
But sometimes, there’s no other way.
And in those moments, it’s good to know there’s always someone willing to show you a path, paved by Tiny Trust Builders, taking you wherever you want to go.
Since you’re reading my letters, that someone could be me, my friend.
Or anyone else you know.
I guess all I want to say is: you’re not in this alone.
Admiring (flawed) early work is easy when we already know the late work is going to be great.
Everyone forgives Picasso or Da Vinci for a lousy early sketch. In fact, people pay good money to hang one in their living room.
Maybe the early work, showing that even the greats are mere mortals on a journey towards excellence, is the most valuable?
And yet, it’s much harder to be gentle on a beginning artist for shipping mediocre creative work – not in the least for the beginning artist themselves – when their path to excellence hasn’t unfolded yet.
After all, something that one day will be “my early work” is still “my current best work” today.
The road to excellence is invisible from the trenches.
But that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.
Which makes me wonder…
When I know that through persistence and daily practice, one day, I’ll look back on today’s creation, smiling, thinking: “Oh how far I’ve come… How much I’ve learned… And some of this was actually pretty good…”
Can I admire my creative work less for what it looks, feels, or sounds like, and more for who I’m becoming through making it?
Can I do the same for the creative projects of others?
With that mindset… How much easier and forgiving would the daily creative journey be?
