#425 Just one more
One more word.
One more practice run.
One more yoga session.
One more moment of doing what’s important to you.
One more moment that brings you closer to who you choose to be.
Just one more.
One more word.
One more practice run.
One more yoga session.
One more moment of doing what’s important to you.
One more moment that brings you closer to who you choose to be.
Just one more.
Go slow, slow, slow
Until all the friction has dissolved
Life is back in flow
Then let go.
Do you want to fear a future you resent, or focus on a future you create in the present?
Do you even want to know what happens next, if all it does is blind you from what happens right now?
Do you want to focus on a future you fear, if it prevents you from building what’s important, right now, right here?
Which conclusions did I draw from past experiences?
Have I overreacted to petty events, and ignored beautiful moments?
Have I deleted memories? Maybe invented some?
Have I built stories based on generalizations?
Most importantly: how does the past I still feel affect my actions today?
And if I know a lot of it was my own interpretation… could I change my past, or at least what it means to me?
Would that set me free?
I was undoubtedly in a pensive mood when writing this.
I guess, given the daily letters I send you, you might conclude I’m in a pensive mood every day.
And you wouldn’t be wrong.
But pensive moods can be useful – when they’re coupled with conclusions and insights. Maybe even with Tiny Trust Builders.
And if any of these questions help you re-interpret your past and set you free, too, I’ll be a happy man.
A wistful win-win.
Today, you’ll force yourself to chase fulfilment, not instant pleasure.
Because when you start getting the taste what’s on the other side of your avoidance…
Soon enough you won’t need brute force anymore.
Rarely can you build a new habit without going through discomfort and resistance.
Choose to avoid the short-term pain… Or choose to focus on the long-term gain.
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 windBefore 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 chestBefore 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 tearsBefore 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 apartBefore 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 kinBefore I learned not to listen
Lukas Van Vyve
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