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  • #33 There’s power in publishing imperfect work.

    656 days ago, I started writing 3 pages of stream-of-consciousness journaling a day.

    That’s an inner dialogue of 1968 pages poured into piles of journals now safely stuffed away.

    30 days ago, some of those thoughts started making their way to my blog.

    I promised myself that if I made it to 30 daily posts in a row, I would start sharing them.

    Today is the day, so here goes.

    I’m sharing daily observations about language, language learning, memory, creativity, habits, discipline, the art of learning, tools for thought.

    Lessons I’ve learned.
    Insights I’ve earned.

    Words I’ve heard.
    Memories spurred.

    Books I’ve read.
    Poems flowing out of my heart and head.

    No rules, no fixed topic, no niche, no marketing strategy.
    Nothing but whatever’s on my mind.

    I’ve learned a lot so far, but the most important insight: there’s power in publishing imperfect work.

    Because if I allow myself to create something imperfect every day, I’m certain that someday the sum of all these imperfect creations will be something I’m proud of.

    It’s liberating.

    Maybe there’s liberating power in reading someone else’s imperfect work too.

    I can’t wait to find out together with you.

    If you like what you see, sign up for the newsletter 🙂

  • #336 The missing piece of the habit puzzle

    When it comes to habits, the missing piece of the puzzle is often the very first one.

    Even more often, it’s not even opening the box to see what’s inside.

    Because looking at the picture on the box is safer, easier, and sometimes just the best option.

    But it’s not fulfilling.

    And if it’s not fulfilling, what’s it all about?

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    #11 fixing a flawed faux finish

    when the cracks in my faux finish
    finally appear
    my mind screams out
    you’re coming too near

    yet i resist the need to hide
    lean in to the fear
    let the cracks grow wide
    because after all these years
    slowly steadily submerged under layers of snow
    frozen frightened i don’t know where else to go

    i feel i’m sliding back into my head
    but you don’t let me
    instead
    you keep me here
    make even more light appear
    look at the fear
    until the icy flawed frozen faux finish finally fully melts away
    into a trembling torrent of tears

    and through the sobs
    subtle shining light teardrops
    mix mingle mend my mind
    my heart my soul a warmth so kind

    you guide my gaze and through the tears
    in my eyes a rainbow appears
    eclipsing the fear
    making it clear
    that when I dare to feel complete
    allow your heart and mine to meet

    i finally remember
    that I’m enough
    i’ve always been

    and at last
    i can be seen

    Lukas Van Vyve
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    #227 Could a changed past set me free?

    Which conclusions did I draw from past experiences?

    Have I overreacted to petty events, and ignored beautiful moments?

    Have I deleted memories? Maybe invented some?

    Have I built stories based on generalizations?

    Most importantly: how does the past I still feel affect my actions today?

    And if I know a lot of it was my own interpretation… could I change my past, or at least what it means to me?

    Would that set me free?


    I was undoubtedly in a pensive mood when writing this.

    I guess, given the daily letters I send you, you might conclude I’m in a pensive mood every day.

    And you wouldn’t be wrong.

    But pensive moods can be useful – when they’re coupled with conclusions and insights. Maybe even with Tiny Trust Builders.

    And if any of these questions help you re-interpret your past and set you free, too, I’ll be a happy man.

    A wistful win-win.

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