#477 Maybe it’s already enough
You could always do more of something.
But maybe you don’t have to.
Maybe what you’re doing is already enough.
Maybe you’re already enough.
And everything else is extra.
You could always do more of something.
But maybe you don’t have to.
Maybe what you’re doing is already enough.
Maybe you’re already enough.
And everything else is extra.
Are you practicing writing? Or giving up writing?
Are you practicing persevering? Or giving up?
Are you practicing doing what you know is good for you? Or ignoring what you know is good for you?
You’re always practicing something. And what you practice, you’ll become good at. And what you practice will persist.
In the moment, I don’t feel like a yoga pose comes easy to me – until I look back to how it felt 6 months ago.
In the moment, I don’t really feel like particularly good writer – until I look back on how hard it was to write these daily insights a year ago.
You don’t need to see progress every single day to know that you’re getting better.
Because the things that truly matter often change so slowly that you don’t notice them… unless you take the time to reflect on them.
Changes too small to notice today become impossible to ignore when they stack up.
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.
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.
Habits are hard to build. But there’s one that’s easy to get used to: starting a new project, then giving up.
Sometimes it’s better not to start at all, so you avoid reinforcing a quitter’s identity: I’ve given up so many times in the past, I’ll probaby give up again.
So how do you know which projects are worth starting?
Ask yourself the following questions:
If the answer to both questions is yes, you’re onto something.
If not, you’re setting yourself up for frustration.
Start small.
Very small.
So small, it might feel silly at first.
For example, if you’ve committed to writing every day, don’t start by aiming to write a thousand words. Start with something you can absolutely, positively achieve.
Maybe that’s writing one sentence. Maybe it’s opening your notebook. Maybe it’s just holding a pen!
Your goal isn’t to produce fantastic prose, but simply to show up and write something.
After all, before it can be about the content, it must be about the consistency.