It’s about the way you say, “I’m tired, and I’m here anyway.”
It’s about the way you say, “I’m exhausted, I’m skipping this one, and that’s okay, because I’ll be back on track the next day.”
It’s about the way you say, “Come what may, I’m in this, and from my chosen path, I won’t be led astray.”
It’s about intentionality and elastic discipline.
It’s about direction.
Most of all, it’s about feeling good, not guilty.
Be a writer, and write.
Be a runner, and run.
Be a singer, and sing.
Be a teacher, and teach.
Be a parent, and love your children.
Be a lover, and love your partner.
I believe this is who I am. I believe this is what I do.
I believe I am free. And so are you.
You may decide to change path in the spur of a moment.
But to keep moving in that new direction, you’ll have to reaffirm your decision many times.
Day by day, taking actions that pave the new path.
Day by day, making decisions that keep you on the new path.
Day by day.
Step by step.
Until the new path isn’t the new path anymore, but just the path.
When everything is urgent, how do we know what to do first?
One solution is adding more nuance:
What’s the most urgent?
What’s the most important?
Breathing is urgent.
A crying child is urgent.
A toilet visit can be urgent.
Sending that email out tonight right before bed instead of tomorrow, maybe not so much?
Here’s the important question:
If you’re going to prioritize the urgent matters anyway, why stress yourself out by calling everything urgent in the first place?
Making everything urgent devalues truly urgent matters.
Because when everything is urgent, nothing is urgent anymore.
Today is your lucky day, my friend.
Or at least, it could be, depending on how you interpret what will happen.
Today is your worst day ever, my friend.
Or at least, it could be, depending on how you interpret what will happen.
The choice is yours. It has always been.
P.S. I don’t know about you, but weirdly enough, being able to decide over your luck didn’t feel like a relief to me at first.
That’s a good topic for another day…
Some days I have ten ideas to write about. Some days, zero.
But when I lack ideas to write about, the ideas aren’t really gone. I’m in a scarcity state: my brain chemistry prevents me from accessing the insights.
When I feel lonely, friends and family I can connect with aren’t really gone. I’m in a scarcity state: my brain chemistry prevents me from connecting with them.
Scarcity is like pollution.
When noise pollution of cars, planes and construction machines drown out the singing of the birds, the birds aren’t really gone. I just can’t hear them.
When light pollution drowns out the stars, they’re not really gone. I just can’t see them.
So how do I get out of scarcity? How do I reduce pollution?
Here’s what works for me:
Notice I’m in scarcity mode. Then move. Meditate. Do stream-of-consciousness journaling.
Then find a place where I hear the birds.
Find a place where I can see the stars.
Write anyway.
And connect with friends and family anyway.
You don’t have to feel like a consistent writer to write every day.
You have to write every day to start feeling like a consistent writer.
You can only overcome your limiting beliefs by repeatedly proving to yourself that they’re not true.
