#499 Scared to a fault
It’s possible to be disciplined to a fault, destroying yourself in the process of doing great things.
But it’s more common to be scared to a fault, preventing you from doing great things in the first place.
It’s possible to be disciplined to a fault, destroying yourself in the process of doing great things.
But it’s more common to be scared to a fault, preventing you from doing great things in the first place.
There used to be a time when you didn’t have words for your feelings. You just felt them.
You didn’t have words to say that your parents are your parents. You just knew it.
You didn’t have words for the sounds other humans made. Like singing birds, a buzzing bumblebee, or a rolling thunder, it was all just vibrating air.
What was your experience of reality like before words started categorizing, abstracting and limiting what you could see, hear, touch and feel?
You know you’re a writer when you stop worrying about whether you’ll write or not.
Self-trust always comes first.
Sometimes I ask myself if you are asking yourself why I write you a short note every day, my friend.
Maybe I’m giving myself too much credit, and you’ve never asked yourself that question.
But I will answer it anyway, so let’s pretend you have.
Here’s the socially acceptable answer: for more than 200 days, I’ve been writing you a short note every day to remind you to make intelligent decisions about your life and who you want to be.
But as so often with us humans, the honest answer is more self-centered: I write you a short note every day to remind myself to make intelligent decisions about my life and who I want to be.
The fact that some insights are helpful to you is a nice bonus. But I would also write them if you have yet to read a single one of these insights.
Because to me, writing every day is a rallying cry for myself in an invisible battle that nobody might ever see – because it only exists in my head.
A battle against frustration, giving up, limiting beliefs, and a cage of social conditioning from which it’s hard to break free.
A battle to become who I’ve always wanted to be.
Yes, every note I write to you, my friend, is outward proof of a tiny inner victory, taking tiny steps towards more self-trust and fulfillment.
You may tell me I don’t have anything to prove to anyone, especially not myself.
And you may be right.
But I also know that we all have our battles to fight.
Battles about what we believe we deserve or not.
What we think we can do or not.
What we believe is possible for us or not.
What we desire.
Who we can be.
So while you might not be asking yourself why I write you something every day, I am asking myself which battles you are fighting.
I am looking for outward proof of your inner victories.
Whatever they are, when you shine a light on your invisible battles, I’ll be here to cheer you on.
Acting on the first hunch is a powerful move.
After all, hunches have their basis in our subconscious insights and intuitive understanding.
While they may not always lead us to the expected outcome, they invariably lead us to swift action and learning.
Either you’re right and you saved time.
Or you’re wrong so you can course correct, still saving you time.
So drink on the first sign of thirst.
Write on the first sign of an insight.
Make your choice on the first sign of a preference.
If it turns out bad, learn and change.
That’s how you train your intuition – not by distrusting it, but by using and honing it.
You already know how to do this.
It’s not a masterpiece.
It’s not a love song.
It’s not a poem.
Make it not about what you create but about the very fact that you’re creating.
Ugly, pretty, insightful, bland. It doesn’t matter. Just externalize your mind’s chatter.
Maybe you feel like you’re going off-track once in a while.
Maybe going off-track is how you build your own track.
Maybe your own track doesn’t always have to go straight.
Maybe you’re the only one using your track.
And maybe that’s fine.