#325 Some things take time
Some things happen so fast, they catch you by surprise.
Bust most things take time.
And things taking time is perfectly fine.
Some things happen so fast, they catch you by surprise.
Bust most things take time.
And things taking time is perfectly fine.
I can’t predict what will happen tomorrow – or even today.
But I do know that today, I resolve to write.
And tomorrow I resolve to write once again.
And that resolve has brought me to 439 consecutive days of writing.
439 days of writing, despite living in an unpredictable world.
439 days of realizing most obstacles are excuses.
439 days of proving that resolve can bring you pretty far.
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.
Goals make you write every day and enjoy the process, even if you’ll never publish a book.
Goals make you practice yoga and get to know your body, even if you’ll never be able to be in that ultimate pose.
Goals makes you help someone and learn to give and contribute, even if your help ultimately doesn’t get them to the place they wanted to go.
Goals don’t predict outcomes. Because the purpose of a goal is not to achieve it, but to set the direction of your life.
It gives you the fuel to start taking action, and the guidance to make sure that action is intentional.
I don’t know about you, my friend, but to me, that’s a fulfilling thought.
Here’s a question Tim Ferris asks startup founders (and himself) when deciding to invest time and money into a new project:
“If, in one (or two, or three) years from now, this whole project has failed miserably… Which assumptions you hold today were proven wrong?”
Tim Ferris
Answering the question first requires defining failure and success.
For my project of publishing a daily insight on this blog success looks like this:
Write & publish.
Edit.
Write & publish.
Edit.
Then write & publish some more.
Good, bad, well-received or not, received or read by anyone at all, it doesn’t matter.
Because first of all, writing is a creative outlet for me.
Second: long as I write & publish consistently, I trust I will get better at writing and publishing.
Finally: I trust that from all that sculpting away, day by day, will come better and better insights.
A pretty low bar for success – which, counterintuitively, often leads to more progress long-term.
Now we have established that:
What are the assumptions that could be wrong if next year, it turns out I failed to write & publish every day?
Here are some I can think of:
Will these assumptions be proven wrong?
Only time will tell.
Until then… I write & publish… then write & publish some more.
I’ve been publishing daily posts for 300+ days now.
The secret?
Writing less.
I don’t want to spend hours writing daily posts, so I keep them short.
I don’t want to drag myself to a 4-day writing session to create all posts for the coming week in advance (then not write for the rest of the week)
I don’t want to set writing goals that are painful to reach and make me feel burnt out.
I do want to write a little bit every day, so I prove to myself every single day that I’m a writer.
I do want to feel that writing that daily post is achievable and fun.
I do want to build momentum.
Keep it achievable. Keep it pleasurable. Keep it sustainable.
In other words: Tiny Trust Builders.
If I want to act differently, I let go of the past.
If I want to act the same way I always did, I cling to the past.
Both clinging and letting go have their place.
I could cling to a habit of eating healthily, or treating others with kindness.
But maybe I could let go of a habit of self-criticism.
What benefits me? What benefits others?
What harms me? What harms others?
Who do I want to be?