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?
“Life made me who I am, and I can’t do anything about it.”
“While the past has shaped me, the way I choose to live my life today, tomorrow, and every day after, will determine who I am.”
You’re living anyway. Your actions are votes for an identity anyway. So you might as well do it intentionally.
The most important habit milestone is the center of gravity shift.
Initially, when you start building a new skill, your center of gravity lies with your old identity. You’re constantly fighting the pull of your old identity. And if you’d stop for even a day, you’ll get pulled right back into your old habits.
“If I don’t write today, what does that say about me? I’ve always given up in the past, and with this habit, it’ll be the same.”
The center of gravity shift happens when you’re about to miss a day and realize:
“It doesn’t matter, tomorrow I’ll start again anyway.”
When you’ve cast so many votes for your “identity of perseverance” you know that missing one day doesn’t equal giving up anymore.
When not writing for a day has become the exception, and when it happens, I get pulled right back into my writing habit.
Before the shift happens, when you’re still building self-trust, discipline is key.
But after your center of gravity has shifted to align with what you want to do anyway… you’re free.
If writing and creating every day were as vital to my survival as drinking water, ingesting food, and bonding… What would life look like?
Biologically, all behavior is driven by pain, pleasure, and the triggers and habits that come from repeated reaction to those stimuli.
So I eat because I want to escape the pain of hunger – or heartbreak, sadness, and frustration.
I connect with others because I’m neurologically hardwired to feel pleasure when bonding… and pain and deprivation when I’m abandoned.
Similarly, I write because I want to escape the frustration of not being able to put into words an insight.
I also write because I enjoy the rush resulting from finding the words that convey what I want to say.
I write because I love the tingling in my back and neck when I combine those words into sentences with just the right rhythm, just the right cadence capturing the meaning, context, emotion of what I want to say…
I write because writing wrests the essence from the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions racing through my mind and body.
I write because when when I write, I feel that at last, I can make sense of life.
And the more meaning I find, the more likely I am to write.
I may say I am bored – but what do I feel?
I may say I am angry – but what do I feel?
I may say I am in love – but what do I feel?
What does my body say?
Can I examine my feelings a different way?
Can I escape the tragedy of the spoken word?
Can I resist unconscious categorization and re-learn to listen to what’s behind the language?
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.
I can’t just say, “today, I’m going to be excellent at writing.”
Excellence is an outcome: a result of focused daily actions.
And one of the fastest ways to excellence is the pursuit of failure.
Not just making accidental mistakes but actively seeking them out.
Did I write nonsense today? Did I understand why I was writing nonsense? Have I learned something from writing that nonsense that will help me write something less nonsensical tomorrow?
The pursuit of failure is painful, especially for perfectionists like me.
But once ego, perfectionism, and the fear of failure make way for a commitment to the process, there’s much to learn from daily mistakes.
