There is no way to predict the future.
But thinking about where you would like to be in the future can help you make better decisions today.
Want to be a writer in the future? Better write today.
Want to run a marathon? Better run today (or eat better, or rest, or stretch…)
Remind yourself of the future, not for the sake of precise predictions, but for the sake of the present.
I can say I want to run a marathon, write a book, or have a successful career – which doesn’t mean I’ll actually end up running a marathon, writing a book, or having a successful career.
But if I’m serious about it, it does mean I’ll take daily steps towards that goal – daily actions that will change my identity.
Can I live with the present-day implications of my uncertain future visions?
If I don’t know yet if I’ll ever write the book – will these daily actions still be fulfilling to me?
Will they make me happier?
Will I be happy with the person I become by taking such daily actions?
Do these daily actions contribute to a fulfilling emotional, mental, physical, and social life?
If not, am I willing to make emotional, mental, physical, or social sacrifices?
This is a choice everyone makes for themselves.
But I don’t want to make my present day miserable for an uncertain vision of the future I don’t even know will happen.
There is no such thing as “abstaining from voting” in life.
Whether I decide to write today or not, I’m living my life and voting for an identity.
Whether I decide to do yoga today or not, I’m living a life and voting for an identity.
Whether I eat healthily today or not, I’m living my life and voting for an identity.
Whether I spend time with my family or not, I’m living my life and voting for an identity.
Voting is compulsory. Voting is inevitable.
You might as well do it intentionally.
The first hour after I was born, 60 minutes encapsulated my entire life outside the womb.
An hour is an eternity.
When I celebrated my first trip around the sun, one year encapsulated my entire life outside the womb.
An hour is not that long anymore. But a year… that’s an eternity.
When I’ll celebrate my 30th birthday next year, one year encapsulates about 1/30th of my experience in this body here on earth.
A year is not that long anymore. But 30 years… that’s an eternity.
Lukas Van Vyve
There’s an absolute, immutable version of time, and then there’s our felt interpretation, which speeds up with every passing moment because we compare it to all the “time we’ve lived so far”.
Maybe that’s why the older we get, the more effort it takes to stay in the present moment?
Because, unlike a newborn child, for whom, compared to its short lifespan, an hour is an eternity, and every second is an opportunity to discover, drink in the world, explore…
We’ve lived so many hours, minutes, and seconds that we don’t care anymore.
with every passing year
Lukas Van Vyve
i’m more in a hurry
and the days, minutes, seconds
become ever more blurry
i can live fast and miss out
or slow down
listen, look around
be here, right now
let the world whisper loud
what life is all about
and at last
i hear you again.
Progress is a silent play, but it’s the whispers of daily practice that leads to the roars of fulfilment.
Even your “bad days” are stepping stones to a brighter “good day”.
Slow and steady.
A voice in my head says I can’t write every day?
I’ll write 2 sentences every day, just to prove to that voice that I, in fact, CAN write every day.
A voice in my head says I don’t have the perseverance to train for (and then finish) a marathon?
I’ll do something small to prepare for the marathon every day, so at the end of each day, I can say to myself “The proof is there, today was another day of me persevering and preparing for a marathon.”
You can’t brute-force your way out of an “I can’t do this” belief. You can only take small actions that start proving the contrary.
Slowly but surely, you chip away at the credibility of the naysayer voice, until the scale starts tipping over, and an encouraging voice emerges.
My sense of fulfillment comes from taking daily actions that are aligned with a personal philosophy and a purpose I intentionally determine.
As life unfolds, my purpose can change. My values can change. I can feel over the moon, dreadful, and everything in between.
My daily actions can change (and they certainly won’t always be aligned with my personal philosophy).
But the fulfillment formula always stays the same.
Are the majority of my daily actions in alignment with my purpose, values, and the identity I want to forge?
A consequence of this formula: Without clear purpose, without consciously choosing values or designing a personal philosophy, without knowing what you stand for and who you choose to be, it’s hard to feel fulfilled.
In short: intentional, aligned, disciplined living and identity building helps to feel fulfilled.
