If you knew you’d always feel unsatisfied with what you write, would you still let satisfaction play a role in your writing process?
If you knew your writing would always be criticized by others, no matter how good it is, would you still let their criticism determine whether you should publish?
If you’d take the fear that stops you the most and rob it of its power, would you write and publish more?
Learning often implies discovering what you can’t do.
I can’t write and convey what I want to say. I can’t speak Spanish fluently. I can’t do this yoga pose.
For many people that’s also the final destination, when in fact, it’s only the start.
We’re missing a word: Learning is discovering what you can’t do yet.
Or, even better:
Learning is discovering what, through diligent practice, you’ll soon be able to do.
After all, actions overrule thoughts.
I can’t write and find the right words… yet. But with diligent practice, soon, I’ll be able to convey what I want to say.
I’m not able to do this yoga pose… yet. But with diligent practice, soon I will.
I can’t speak Spanish fluently… yet. But with diligent practice, soon I will.
That’s all there is to it.
Discover your current limit. Realize that through diligent practice, you’ll overcome it.
Then you’ll find a new limit. And through diligent practice, you’ll overcome it.
Until you find a new limit, which you’ll overcome… through diligent practice.
Where do you let the discovery of your current limit be your end station?
I guess all I really want to say today is:
There’s something you’re doing great at.
There always is.
Can you see it?
Some days I have ten ideas to write about. Some days, zero.
But when I lack ideas to write about, the ideas aren’t really gone. I’m in a scarcity state: my brain chemistry prevents me from accessing the insights.
When I feel lonely, friends and family I can connect with aren’t really gone. I’m in a scarcity state: my brain chemistry prevents me from connecting with them.
Scarcity is like pollution.
When noise pollution of cars, planes and construction machines drown out the singing of the birds, the birds aren’t really gone. I just can’t hear them.
When light pollution drowns out the stars, they’re not really gone. I just can’t see them.
So how do I get out of scarcity? How do I reduce pollution?
Here’s what works for me:
Notice I’m in scarcity mode. Then move. Meditate. Do stream-of-consciousness journaling.
Then find a place where I hear the birds.
Find a place where I can see the stars.
Write anyway.
And connect with friends and family anyway.
Over the years, I’ve become quite skilled at letting present worries overshadow past triumphs.
But what would it be like to let past triumphs overshadow present worries?
And what would it be like to have present triumphs overshadow past worries?
Maybe you know better than me, my friend. Or maybe it’s something you’d like to practice too.
Here’s a journal prompt to get us started:
What’s a forgotten accomplishment from your past that once filled you with pride but has since slipped away from your thoughts?
We naturally move towards pleasure and away from pain – with one exception: painful comfort.
If you’re used to believing that you’re bad at languages, there’s painful comfort in struggling with languages.
If you’re used to negative self-talk, there’s painful comfort in negative self-talk.
If you’re used to working 12-hour days, there’s painful comfort in working 12-hour days.
If you’re used to constant conflict, there’s painful comfort in constant conflict.
If you’re used to neglect, there’s painful comfort in neglect.
Painful comfort is keeping you comfortable AND hurting you.
Years of conditioning have given it an irresistible pull – until you decide to take a leap of faith and start believing that you, too, can change.
Where are you perpetuating painful comfort in life?
Learning a skill isn’t so much about getting better – that’s just a side effect.
It’s about discovering new ways of doing the same thing – just because you can, and just because you’re curious.
Doing the same thing, this time precisely – then doing it again, not precisely at all.
Doing the same thing, this time deliberately, carefully thinking about every step – then doing it again, not thinking about any steps at all.
When you stay curious, you learn to discover nuances you couldn’t perceive before.
When you stay curious, you learn to be deliberate until you can be intuitive.
When you stay curious, you learn to become less blind to what’s already here.
And when you stay curious, you realize there’s not much more to a fulfilling life than sculpting away, day by day – and anything can be a fulfilling skill.
