Working on your business so hard you neglect your health – and end up in bed with a burnout.
Being so absorbed with selflessly helping others you forget to set boundaries – and end up drained and resentful.
Being so focused on the practice your neglect your friends and family – and you end up lonely.
The line between purposeful passion and compulsive addiction is thin.
This is where trust building comes in.
Building trust in your intentions – so you verify that your actions benefit you and your environment.
Building trust in your self-awareness – so you notice when you cross over in compulsive obsession space, and pull yourself back into purposeful passion territory.
Building trust in the people around you – so you listen to them when they see you’re slipping, and you let them help you get back on the right path.
Starting a new habit seems to come with three universal “self-trust issues”:
Trust in my Intentions. “Do I even have the time for this? Does making time for this make me selfish… Is it even good for me to spend time on this, out of all the priorities in life? Will this do me in any good in the long term?”
Trust in my Ability to follow through. “I’ll probably give up at the first opportunity, and then beat myself up again for not following through.”
Trust in my Skills. “Am I even good enough? I don’t notice any improvement, I don’t think this is working for me. I don’t think I can do this.”
(Source: Eben Pagan)
And even though I’ve slowly been gaining trust across all three dimensions in the past two years…
Whenever I start something new – like publishing a daily insight – the same trust issues resurface.
“Trust in my ability to follow through” is a particularly tough cookie. Not a day goes by without a self-defeating and endlessly annoying voice whispering in my ear: “Go ahead, try me. See how long you last before you return with another habit you gave up on…”
Which leads me to the Completion Paradox:
Trust in my ability to complete things is not a prerequisite to get started. It’s earned through getting started in the first place and then, slowly, but surely, day by day, following through. Completing something every single day. Proving to myself that I can, in fact, trust myself to follow through. Building up that self-trust every day through tiny trust builders.
So… the questions I keep in mind today:
How can I bring my positive habit-building experiences from the past, and the trust I built into this new activity?
What would it feel like if, instead of spoiling the fun of starting this daily publishing with nagging self-doubt, waiting for the “inevitable moment where I’ll give up”… I celebrate each time I’m following through and see it as another step closer to a new habit… another step closer to self-trust?
Taking it one step further:
What would it feel like to have this new habit in place already? How would I act if I already had enough trust that no matter what happens, even if I miss a day, or even a week, I’ll return back to daily publishing?
And with those questions in mind, I realize a simple thought can put my mind at ease…
“It’s all fine… I’ve been through this before.”
Because when my dreams start drowning in doubts And desire turns into despair When I suddenly see what I always had in me Who I could be Yet my thoughts already declare defeat I step back Look back Feel back And when at last I notice That day by day, I’m finally unleashing the calling I’ve always ignored I remind myself It’s all fine. I’ve been through this before.
On Sunday, January 3 2021, motivated by an emotional low point and an article I read on writing “Morning Pages”, I grabbed an old notepad, pen, started writing and didn’t stop until I had filled three pages.
It was the first time in 5 years I wrote something by hand, and the first time in my life I journaled.
I liked it so much that I kept writing every day.
We’re 625 days later now, and I never stopped. 3 pages of Stream of Consciousness journaling a day, 625 days in a row: that’s 1875 pages or relaxing the mind and letting my train of thoughts “stream onto the page”, unfiltered, playfully wandering through my experiences, thoughts, and insights.
But no matter how enjoyable the wandering, lately I’ve been feeling the urge to create something tangible (and valuable) with all those insights and ideas.
Here’s how I envision it:
Dailyjournaling (Morning Pages) unblocks my stream of consciousness and transfers it to paper, forming the raw material out of which ideas and insights can emerge. In my experience, once I’ve gone through the sea of fluff, I can expect an insight (maybe two if I’m lucky).
Daily sculpting helps me remove all the fluff until only the pure insights are left, and then refine them, like a sculptor chiseling away at a massive block of marble, working to reveal the essence hidden inside of it.
Sculpting until only the essence remains
“If you want me to give you a two-hour presentation, I am ready today. If you want only a five-minute speech, it will take me two weeks to prepare.”
– Mark Twain
Sculpting is the hard part. Because when you think about it, the raw material – the ideas and insights – have always been there, just like the famous Davide sculpture has always been hidden inside the block of marble Michelangelo hauled from a quarry in Carrara in the Apuan alps. He just paid attention in a different way and saw what many others didn’t see.
Yet, he wasn’t the only person who had the idea to use a block of marble to sculpt a Biblical figure. But the way he shaped that raw material into something impactful, beautiful, that accurately represents what you had in mind…
That made all the difference.
And it’s a skill that takes a long time to hone.
Which might be why I’ve avoided it for so long. So far, out of 1875 pages of journaling, I’ve published… 4 articles.
Time to change that. From today onwards, I’m adding a “sculpting session” to my day and will publish the result as a “Daily Insight”.
I don’t expect it to be particularly insightful anytime soon. Maybe I’ll never be fully satisfied with anything I come up with.
But when I stick to it every day and arrive at day 50, 100, or day 625…
Who knows how much I’ll have learned about writing, insight generation, communication,…?
Who knows what will have emerged?
Surely more than if I’d do nothing.
Which leads me to the question I’m asking myself today:
What would it feel like if I remove all external judgment from writing and see writing as the practice of exploring thoughts, ideas, feelings, insights, and becoming ever more accurate and impactful in representing them?
My current answer: I’d be focused much more on process and progress, not on competition. I’d feel how I’m getting better every day, not in relationship to others (as in competition), but in relationship to the purest expression of a certain art, skill, or action.
