There used to be a time when you didn’t have words for your feelings. You just felt them.
You didn’t have words to say that your parents are your parents. You just knew it.
You didn’t have words for the sounds other humans made. Like singing birds, a buzzing bumblebee, or a rolling thunder, it was all just vibrating air.
What was your experience of reality like before words started categorizing, abstracting and limiting what you could see, hear, touch and feel?
If you truly believe you can write every day – not that it is generally possible to write every day, but that YOU can write every day – you would be doing it already.
So if you’re not, ask yourself:
Do you believe YOU can write every day?
If not, why not?
Is it physically impossible for you to write something every day? A page, a paragraph, a sentence… a word?
Deep down, you know the answer to that question.
And now we’ve established you can write every day; what other excuses come up?
That the work won’t be good?
That the words won’t capture what you want to say?
That you’ll disappoint others?
That you’ll disappoint yourself?
Put words to your fears, then ask yourself: what would happen if they all came true?
Would that stop you from writing? Or would it liberate you?
Would you maybe be just fine?
What would it be like to have overcome your fears and still be writing anyway?
Only one way to find out…
Write. Every. Day.
Victory passes.
So does defeat.
Exhaustion passes.
So does excitement.
And because it all passes, the highest peaks and lowest lows are probably not your most reliable guides to make life decisions.
Take a step back.
Wait until the emotions pass and you see clearly again.
Then you can make choices that stand the test of time.
You’re on a lifelong journey, and it’ll be over before you know it.
Which doesn’t mean you’re in a rush.
After all, who’s to say that going slow and intentional won’t give you a longer life than rushing through the days to cram in as much as possible?
If I don’t meditate today, will I ever become a consistent practitioner?
If I don’t go for that run today, will I ever become a runner?
If I don’t stick to my diet today, will I ever get in shape?
There’s a time and place for being a hardliner about your habits – the first 30-45 days when the naysayer voice in your head still says, “let’s see how long it takes before I give up again.”
After all, you’re building a new identity and will still be pulled back towards your old ways.
But at some point, hardliners need to make the switch to “elastic discipline“:
Being disciplined about your daily practice while trusting yourself enough that when life inevitably puts you in a situation where you HAVE to violate your principles, you can navigate it, adjust your behavior, and afterward, like an elastic band, bounce back to your disciplined practice.
This is an overlooked part of habit-building. Because if you don’t consciously build the self-trust that you can, in fact, persevere despite setbacks, you’ll live in fear of giving up forever.
So initially, when you start a new habit, be a hardliner.
Use Tiny Trust Builders to start building confidence in your ability to persevere.
After 30 days, start asking yourself: do I trust myself enough to skip a day and then bounce back to my disciplined practice tomorrow?
Skip a day, then start again.
Build self-trust.
Feel your confidence and self-worth grow.
Cultivate “elastic discipline” and become free.
Ernest Hemingway allegedly stopped his writing sessions in the middle of a sentence so he knew how to start his next session. He stopped writing, even if he could do more.
Julia Cameron teaches to write precisely three pages of stream-of-consciousness journaling a day. Stop journaling, even if you could do more.
I’ve gotten better results studying foreign languages 20 minutes a day for several months than rushing into a new language and studying it for 3 hours a day, then crashing and burning. I stop myself from learning, even if I could do more.
Because burnout and overindulgence stifle progress, and in the long run, moderation leads to more.
A neurotransmitter that once helped us evolve and motivated us to go out and explore the world now has us glued to screens and plates filled with sugary food.
Dopamine tells us not just to eat, but to eat more.
Not just to read a useful article, but click more headlines.
Swipe through more videos and photos.
Watch more episodes on Netflix.
Yet, when I interrupt the dopamine reward loop and resist the need for more, I’m pulled back into the now, and strangely enough, I actually see more. Hear more. Feel more.
Sometimes, to get more, you need to moderate.
