#126 Invisible ink tattooed on your mind

ByLukas
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Every promise to yourself is a contract in invisible ink.

Jo Franco on the Not Your Average Jo podcast. I recommend you listen to this episode

But it’s not because it’s hidden from view that it doesn’t carry any weight.

Every broken contract with yourself goes on the pile of self-distrust.

So don’t overextend. Don’t make promises to yourself that you can’t keep anyway.

Start with a tiny contract with yourself. Then stick to the terms.

Build trust every day through Tiny Trust Builders.

Remember that the contract is made, so now is not the time to negotiate.

Retrace the letters of that invisible contract every single day.

Then, one day, the invisible ink is tattooed on your mind, and you’ve forged an unbreakable bond between your words and actions.

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    #303 Why you do what you do

    ByLukas

    I don’t know yet what I want to say today, and I write anyway.

    I write anyway because it’s the only way to figure out what I want to say.

    I do yoga because it’s the only way to understand why yoga is important.

    I run because it’s the only way to figure out why running is worth it.

    I spend time with family because it’s the only way to understand why love is important.

    There’s no need to wait for reasons of motivation.

    You do what you do to figure out why you’re doing it.

  • #474 You’ll always be exposed

    ByLukas

    You can’t reach great successes without exposing yourself to spectacular failure.

    You can’t feel amazing without exposing yourself to a downfall.

    You can’t feel great love without exposing yourself to a broken heart.

    You can’t explore the world without exposing yourself to getting lost.

    And what’s more: you won’t be able to fully appreciate the good things in life without having been exposed to the challenging things.

  • | |

    #32 Before I learned not to listen

    ByLukas

    Before I learned not to listen
    I would stand
    seemingly still
    but secretly swaying
    swallowed up by a willow tree
    and its play with the wind

    Before I learned not to listen
    I would hold my head against the rind
    reach
    reconnect with an old friend
    the way it has always felt best
    cheek pressed to chest

    Before I learned not to listen
    a breeze in the leaves
    rustling ruminating
    would sound like raindrops in my ears
    making my eyes answer
    with a torrent of tears

    Before I learned not to listen
    a rolling thunder
    thumping like a beating heart
    would rumble from my cheek to my ear
    replacing my fear
    with a memory I used to held dear
    we were never really apart

    Before I learned not to listen
    before the lust for language
    reduced what I could see
    and sense within
    I would allow the whispers of the wordless world
    speak to me like kin

    Before I learned not to listen
    I would accept
    that once upon a time
    I remembered your name
    and once upon a time we both knew
    we were one and all the same

    Lukas Van Vyve

  • #291 Beliefs follow actions

    ByLukas

    When you write every day, you believe you can write every day.

    When you don’t write every day, you believe you can’t every day.

    And so it goes for running, working out, eating healthy, playing the guitar, or anything else you’re frustrated or satisfied with.

    Beliefs follow actions.

    Actions confirm beliefs.

    So follow your actions to uncover your beliefs.

    Then change your actions to change your beliefs.

  • #2 Why I write

    ByLukas

    If writing and creating every day were as vital to my survival as drinking water, ingesting food, and bonding… What would life look like?

    Biologically, all behavior is driven by pain, pleasure, and the triggers and habits that come from repeated reaction to those stimuli.

    So I eat because I want to escape the pain of hunger – or heartbreak, sadness, and frustration.

    I connect with others because I’m neurologically hardwired to feel pleasure when bonding… and pain and deprivation when I’m abandoned.

    Similarly, I write because I want to escape the frustration of not being able to put into words an insight.

    I also write because I enjoy the rush resulting from finding the words that convey what I want to say.

    I write because I love the tingling in my back and neck when I combine those words into sentences with just the right rhythm, just the right cadence capturing the meaning, context, emotion of what I want to say…

    I write because writing wrests the essence from the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions racing through my mind and body.

    I write because when when I write, I feel that at last, I can make sense of life.

    And the more meaning I find, the more likely I am to write.

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