The future I want to see affects the present I create.
And so does the future I don’t want to see.
Do I let fear of what could go wrong reign my day?
Or excitement about what could be?
Whatever I choose, I may well end up proving myself right.
Before it can be about good writing, it must be about consistent writing.
Before it can be about running PRs, it must be about running consistently.
Before it can be about , it must be about being in that yoga pose in the first place.
Before it can be about fulfilment, it must be about doing something that fulfills you in the first place.
Before it can be about the content, it must be about the consistency.
Don’t wait for the storm to pass.
Write in the rain.
Most people are kind at heart and would be happy to help you – and other people – out all the time if only, you know, just like you, they didn’t have a life of their own full of obligations, dreams, passions, and worries. In other words, a life that doesn’t entirely revolve around being at your service.
I don’t know if that always holds for everyone, my friend. And it’s not a free pass for selfishness or treating others poorly.
But I do like to believe it’s mainly a mental bandwidth challenge and that deep down, people always want to help.
Because it makes me more understanding and empathetic. For other people’s behavior and my own.
After all, it’s not about you. It’s not about me. It’s about us all.
When technology and AI outpace us and we can’t be the best, smartest, fastest, strongest on the planet anymore – will we still care about our economic output?
When results have become irrelevant, what are the things I will still want to do?
Maybe we’ll rediscover value in our actions themselves and the pleasure and pain they make us feel – happy, sad, useful, worthless, brimming with purpose, overflowing with self-hatred…?
Will I still write just because I enjoy writing, even if AI could write a better-researched, more insightful book than I ever could?
Will I still learn a language just because learning a language makes me feel good, even if I could use an instant translation device to talk to anyone in the world?
Will I still spend my days in an office cubicle if that’s a painful prospect?
An era of soul-searching is coming.
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.
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.
