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    #184 Why bad work is necessary

    Every day in which I write, I build my body of work.

    As I build my body of work, I also build a hierarchy of quality.

    Because every day, my writing will be slightly better or worse than the day before.

    That means that the more I write, comparatively, the more good writing I’ll do.

    It also means that the more I write, comparatively, the more bad writing I do.

    Both are necessary.

    Good writing, to feel progress.

    Bad writing, to know what good writing looks and feels like in the first place.

    It’s all part of the process.

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    #140 I don’t have to be good at this today.

    Trying to become good fast makes you impatient. And impatience may well stop you from ever becoming good in the first place.

    Because the only way to become good is by understanding that in today’s practice session, you likely won’t be perfect anyway.

    That you likely won’t write your most insightful words.

    That you likely won’t run an all-time best.

    That you’ll likely spend a large part of your yoga session stumbling and losing balance.

    When you go into your practice session with that mindset…

    Suddenly it makes sense to focus hard on getting that one sentence right.

    Now it makes sense to focus on rhythmic breathing while running instead of pushing for a better time.

    Now it makes sense to focus on a tiny part of your body during an entire yoga session to train your awareness instead of trying to chase poses because “they look professional.”

    Even if there is not much time to “become good,” it still makes sense to assume there is time.

    Because that gives you the freedom to focus on the small adjustments that prepare you for when the time comes, and you truly need to perform.

    Since I’m always practicing anyway, I don’t have to be good at this today.

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    #122 You don’t have to. But you could.

    You don’t have to become a writer. But you could. Even if you don’t believe it yet.

    And if knowing that you could makes you restless…

    If the fact that it’s possible makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up…

    If a persistent “What if” keeps echoing through your mind…

    Then maybe you should become a writer.


    Similarly, you don’t have to be passionate about anything. But you could.

    And if you could… what would you be passionate about?

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    #92 The true purpose of memory

    Memory isn’t an objective account of the past – and that’s not its purpose either.

    Memory stores the lessons we extract from life experience. And to do so, it modifies, adds, subtracts, highlights, and hides.

    Hot soup burns my tongue – next time, I’ll remember the pain, but not if it was tomato soup or chicken soup. And I’ll remember to wait a couple of minutes before having the first spoon.

    Experience lived. Irrelevant info deleted. Lesson learned. Memory created.

    My country gets invaded – and that causes so much pain, I won’t just deliver an objective account of what happened: I’ll make sure to tell everyone who the evil guys are too.

    Experience lived. Story modified. Lesson learned. Memory created.

    I eat the most delicious dessert at a Mexico City restaurant – that’s the memory I’m going to tell my friends about, not which glass of dessert wine I had with it.

    Experience lived. Dessert highlighted. Lesson learned. Memory created.

    You’re going to make memories anyway. Which lessons do you want to learn?

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