You may decide to change path in the spur of a moment.
But to keep moving in that new direction, you’ll have to reaffirm your decision many times.
Day by day, taking actions that pave the new path.
Day by day, making decisions that keep you on the new path.
Day by day.
Step by step.
Until the new path isn’t the new path anymore, but just the path.
If you know the journey of writing a book is filled with days where you won’t feel like writing, days where you won’t feel like writing aren’t a distraction – they’re a sign you’re on the right path.
After all, if you know setbacks are what makes your journey your journey, how could your journey be disturbed by setbacks?
Without sadness, how do I know I’m happy?
Without happiness, how do I know I’m sad?
Without anger, how do I know I’m grateful?
Without gratitude, how do I know I’m angry?
Without pain, how do I know what pleasure feels like?
Without pleasure, how do I know I’m in pain?
Without bad moments, how can I appreciate the good ones?
Without good moments, what gets me through the bad ones?
Contrast.
ChatGPT can write in 10 seconds what would take you hours.
We’re entering an era where what makes us valuable is not economic output anymore.
We can try to compete.
Or we can rethink what still makes our lives valuable when we’re economically obsolete.
I write for the sake of writing.
I play chess for the sake of playing chess.
I learn for the sake of learning.
I sing for the sake of singing.
I love my family for the sake of loving my
I live for the sake of living.
When we lose our economic value, value lies in life itself again.
Every day in which I write, I build my body of work.
As I build my body of work, I also build a hierarchy of quality.
Because every day, my writing will be slightly better or worse than the day before.
That means that the more I write, comparatively, the more good writing I’ll do.
It also means that the more I write, comparatively, the more bad writing I do.
Both are necessary.
Good writing, to feel progress.
Bad writing, to know what good writing looks and feels like in the first place.
It’s all part of the process.
“You already know what I’m going to say,” the mentor I don’t have tells me.
It’s true.
I don’t need anyone to tell me what to do.
Neither do you.
All you need is someone to remind you to do what you already know.
If you had constant presence of mind, you could remind yourself.
But if you’re anything like me, your clarity gets lost in day-to-day desires, worries, and chores.
And that’s fine.
Because that’s what you’re here for, no?
Not to learn what your life should look like but to receive a reminder to live it daily?
We all live in a maze of mistranslations and misunderstandings about who we think you are and who others think we are.
Now, by lack of a way to know who we truly are, misunderstandings can be comforting, my friend; there’s no doubt about that.
But when you get so lost in the maze that it causes suffering, it might be time to start mending the misunderstandings.
Could it be that mending is nothing more than making another mistranslation about who we are that makes us happier?
After all, I can perceive myself as a struggling writer or a skilled wordsmith – both perspectives hold their truths.
It’s the power of our misunderstandings that molds our reality.
