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.
You’re not defined by the saint you wish to be someday.
Nor by the sinner you used to be back in the day.
You’re defined by the actions you decide to take today.
And tomorrow.
And the day after.
But mainly right now. Today.
Day 20 of my daily publishing experiment. What I’ve learned (or remembered) so far:
In short, a pattern I’ve observed many time in the past years is playing out again:
When I start defying my own excuses by taking action, no matter how small, my self-trust grows, my self-image shifts, and I become more of the person I want to be.
Which begs the question:
Where else am I frustrated, holding on to a static identity of the past that I could prove wrong by taking action?
Language helps us describe the world we perceive. Yet in doing so, it closes our eyes, our ears, our touch, and our heart to the parts of the world we don’t have words for.
Every language is a lens on a felt reality within and around us – both clarifying and categorizing the world, and limiting it by the words it has available.
Learning more languages gives you new lenses – and a richer sense of reality.
But just like the structure of our ears limit the sounds we can hear, and the structure of our eyes limit colors we can see, the structure of any language somehow limits our felt experience of the world.
How do we re-access memories, emotions, hidden away in a long-forgotten language?
How do we re-learn to listen to the voices of the wordless world speaking to our animal self… the voices that once upon a time, before verbal language emerged, were all we had?
there’s an eternal song
drowned out by the confines of my mother tongue
a wordless melody that once made sense
until our brain started blurring it with a lens
narrowing it down
neglecting its nuances through verbs and nounswith all its might language wants us to abide
Lukas Van Vyve
but the wordless world it tries to hide
will forever be inside
When the going gets tough
When I bite the dust
Trust I must
Trust I must
That the purpose I feel inside
The calling from which I can no longer hide
Is a reliable guide
Trust I must
That the vision I hold dear
Is enough to conquer my fear
and persevere
Trust I must
That the words I say
The actions I take every day
Won’t lead me astray
Trust I must
That I am not alone
And that this calling
Will bring me home
Trust I must
Every day
That this is the path
This is my way
We all want to avoid doing things that make us miserable.
Yet avoiding them often takes the shape of prioritizing them.
“I’ll do this unpleasant thing first so that I can get to the fun stuff.”
Unfortunately, it seems to be a rule that the more unpleasant tasks you cross off your to-do list, the more unpleasant tasks appear on your to-do list.
Sometimes it makes sense to do the essential things first, even if that means you keep the unpleasant things on your to-do list.
This is not a free pass to avoid unpleasant things and only do something you like.
It’s about doing the things that matter, regardless of whether they’re pleasant.
It’s about coming to terms with the fact that you’ll probably always drown in chores and busy work to do, then doing the important stuff anyway.
Journaling question of the day:
Where are you prioritizing and attracting things that make you miserable instead of doing the work that matters?
I can’t predict what will happen tomorrow – or even today.
But I do know that today, I resolve to write.
And tomorrow I resolve to write once again.
And that resolve has brought me to 439 consecutive days of writing.
439 days of writing, despite living in an unpredictable world.
439 days of realizing most obstacles are excuses.
439 days of proving that resolve can bring you pretty far.
