#497 It’s not supposed to be easy
Maybe it’s not supposed to be easy.
Maybe it’s supposed to be challenging.
Challenging. So it can be fulfilling.
Maybe it’s not supposed to be easy.
Maybe it’s supposed to be challenging.
Challenging. So it can be fulfilling.
A compelling vision of who I want to be doesn’t just guide my present actions and brings me toward a fulfilling future.
It also helps me deal with the suffering that’s part of living in a complex physical body with a complex mind in a complex society in a complex, uncontrollable world.
Because no matter how strong my vision or purpose is, and no matter what I do or say, inevitable hardship will happen anyway.
So if I know why I’m doing what I do, why I’m going where I go, and why I’m becoming who I want to be, then hopefully, when life gets rough, I’ll react in a better way.
I’ll trust myself to handle the unavoidable suffering.
I’ll trust myself to minimize how much I add to the suffering.
And that makes the future just a little bit brighter for me, everyone, and everything around me.
when the cracks in my faux finish
finally appear
my mind screams out
you’re coming too nearyet i resist the need to hide
lean in to the fear
let the cracks grow wide
because after all these years
slowly steadily submerged under layers of snow
frozen frightened i don’t know where else to goi feel i’m sliding back into my head
but you don’t let me
instead
you keep me here
make even more light appear
look at the fear
until the icy flawed frozen faux finish finally fully melts away
into a trembling torrent of tearsand through the sobs
subtle shining light teardrops
mix mingle mend my mind
my heart my soul a warmth so kindyou guide my gaze and through the tears
in my eyes a rainbow appears
eclipsing the fear
making it clear
that when I dare to feel complete
allow your heart and mine to meeti finally remember
that I’m enough
i’ve always beenand at last
Lukas Van Vyve
i can be seen
On 1. January 2021, I started writing 3 pages of stream-of-consciousness journaling a day. I haven’t missed a day since. That’s 663 days in a row: an inner dialogues of 1989 pages poured in to piles of journals.
Stream-of-consciousness journaling is also often called Morning Pages (a term coined by Julia Cameron in her book “The Artist’s Way“).
The idea is that you wake up in the morning and before you do anything else, take a journal and pen, and you start externalizing the voice talking to yourself in your head on the page.
You don’t stop to think about perfect phrasing (your inner voice never stops talking, either). In fact, you don’t lift your pen off the paper at all until you’ve filled 3 pages.
Shopping lists, to-dos, dreams, interactions, worries, fears, excitement, goals, friends, family, memories, ideas, goals,… whatever’s on your mind.
No poetry, no perfect prose, no structured sentences, no coherent insights – unless that’s what flows out of you.
No judgment either. You never even have to read this back.
Nothing but pure, unfiltered stream of consciousness.
This simple practice has transformed me.
Or don’t do any of the above and just write.
Write first thing tomorrow morning.
Don’t overthink it, just write.
Don’t read it back, just write.
Don’t worry about grammar, just write.
Then when you’re done, write some more.
What about second-hand memories? Accounts of past events we didn’t experience ourselves, wars, volcano eruptions, scientific discoveries,…
For knowledge to accumulate, to stand on the shoulders of giants, we need to transmit such lessons too. Not just as data or accounts of the past – also as memories.
But transmitting second-hand memories require trust.
Can we rely on the interpretation of others?
Who do we allow to control the narrative?
Parents? Elders? Teachers? Governments and politicians?
YouTubers? Influencers? Bloggers? Twitter gurus?
AI models and chatbots?
Objective data doesn’t exist. Objective memories don’t exist either. So if we can’t trust second-hand memories anymore, collective memory and our whole learning model collapses.
It’s fine to go slow and steady until you’re ready to go faster.
And even when you’re ready to go faster, it’s still fine to go slow and steady.
Slow and steady, so you have the space to listen to the sounds.
Slow and steady, so you have time to look around.
Slow and steady, so you don’t burn out.
Slow and steady, so you enjoy the journey.
Slow and steady.
Always moving.
Always in flow.
Always ready.
When you go slow and steady.
You’ve spent your lifetime bumping into the limits of what you deem possible.
And you’ve also spent your lifetime overcoming the seemingly impossible.
Sit. Crawl. Walk. Speak. Read. Find love. Get over loss and heartbreak. Travel. Invent. Create. Learn. Write.
Overcoming the seemingly impossible is what makes you you.
Once you accept that, the question shifts from, “What’s possible for me?” to, “What are you overcoming next?”