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  • #360 The key to creating everything you ever wanted

    If you wouldn’t see overwhelming results in your first 30 days of writing, working out, dieting, or learning an instrument, would you still show up?

    Are you okay with small, almost invisible gains because the process of learning, creating, practicing is fulfilling enough in itself?

    And if not, could you be okay with that, if you knew it was the key to learning or creating anything you ever wanted?

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    #39 Knowledge transfer and time collapse

    Knowledge transfer always implies time collapse. Because learning an insight from someone else usually takes less long than figuring it out yourself.

    Take books. The writer usually spent considerable time researching and distilling the topic and coming to good insights (time I might not be able to dedicate).

    Thanks to that writer, I can now consume that knowledge in, say 6-12 hours of reading the book. A considerable time collapse…

    But when does time collapse go to far?

    Can I read a 1-page summary of that book and truly say I grasp the topic?

    When your brain gets space to breathe, knowledge grows and nuance shows. It needs time and repeated exposure to absorb information, make connections, and discover new insights.

    So a one-page summary isn’t necessarily too shallow… On the contrary: it collapses time so much that information becomes very dense.

    What with the evolution towards short-form online content? The primary purpose of TikTok videos and Instagram reels might be to entertain, but the trend is clear and spills over into education, our attention span, and knowledge transfer: shorter, more shallow, yet more dense.

    Too little time collapse and we can’t make progress.
    Too much time collapse and knowledge collapses with it.

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    #218 The United States of “If I wanted, I could”

    The path toward self-awareness isn’t always pleasant. 

    Take yesterday, when I realized that in many cases, I’m more interested in the comfort of “wanting” something I don’t have than in “taking action to get something.”

    That unappealing realization triggered a cascade of even more unappealing questions.

    Would I rather mess around with small blog posts instead of becoming a skilled writer crafting coherent arguments?

    Would I rather learn about a million different strategies to grow a newsletter instead of actually spreading the word and getting more people to read my newsletter?

    Would I rather learn how to learn a language than actually learn a new language?

    Is the frustration of unrealized potential also a huge source of comfort in my life?


    I’m not sure if I should be happy with that realization. 

    Maybe realizations aren’t even supposed to make me happy.

    But even if they were, it doesn’t matter. 

    Because look: here I am, writing another insight about it.

    Another Tiny Trust Builder, proving that every day, I am one step closer to renouncing my citizenship of the United States of “If I wanted, I could.”

    Another reminder to myself and you, my friend, one I’ll repeat until the bitter end: actions overrule thoughts.

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    #62 Productive vs prolific

    Plants are productive when they’re fertile: capable of producing fruit or offspring.

    Plants are only prolific when they actually produce fruit in abundance.

    https://wikidiff.com/prolific/productive

    When it comes to creativity, we humans are all productive in the sense that we are capable of creating.

    Productivity tools and “hacks” can help to create more space in your day for that creative potential.

    But you’re only prolific when you use that creative potential and actually create something in abundance. Like Picasso.

    Without prolificacy, productivity is just an empty container – unfulfilling, unfulfilled potential.

    What can you be prolific in? What do you want to create in large quantities? What’s important enough to you to start sculpting away, day by day?

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    #173 Are errors truly errors?

    I can believe I’ve published the perfect insight – until I narrate the podcast version a couple of weeks later and suddenly notice subtle typos and, sometimes, logical flaws. The typos and flaws were always there – but did I make a mistake earlier? 

    I can believe I’ve nailed this yoga pose – until, during one session, I suddenly sense some tension in my neck I had never noticed before. The tension was always there – did I make a mistake earlier? 

    I can believe I’ve cooked the perfect dish – until one day, I notice that the sauce tastes even better with a little less salt. But, even before I noticed it, the improvement was always there – did I make a mistake earlier?

    Maybe learning is not about errors but about gaining ever more subtle awareness.

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