#371 The little that’s needed to be a writer
You’ve got a pen. You’ve got paper. A phone. And a computer.
Go write.
Because despite what your mind may try to tell you, the little that’s needed to be a writer is never truly out of reach.
You’ve got a pen. You’ve got paper. A phone. And a computer.
Go write.
Because despite what your mind may try to tell you, the little that’s needed to be a writer is never truly out of reach.
When technology and AI outpace us and we can’t be the best, smartest, fastest, strongest on the planet anymore – will we still care about our economic output?
When results have become irrelevant, what are the things I will still want to do?
Maybe we’ll rediscover value in our actions themselves and the pleasure and pain they make us feel – happy, sad, useful, worthless, brimming with purpose, overflowing with self-hatred…?
Will I still write just because I enjoy writing, even if AI could write a better-researched, more insightful book than I ever could?
Will I still learn a language just because learning a language makes me feel good, even if I could use an instant translation device to talk to anyone in the world?
Will I still spend my days in an office cubicle if that’s a painful prospect?
An era of soul-searching is coming.
In working-class cafés in Napoli, people who experienced good luck often buy a coffee, then another one “pending”, which the barista can serve to anyone at his own discretion: a caffè sospeso.
A symbol of social trust and solidarity. Or, in the hands of marketeers and big coffee chains, a tool for increasing sales.
Regardless, it’s an act minimal enough to not to turn the donor into a hero, and small enough not to affect the receiver’s self-worth.
If such accessible acts of generosity make the donor feel good, and the receiver of a free coffee too…
And if it’s something almost everyone can do, not just billionaire philanthropists…
It’s an initiative worth spreading. Maybe not only for coffee.
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.
Only when you let yourself practice what you preach
Each and every day
Do you stand a chance at becoming good at what you practice
This is the only way
No matter how long it takes
As long as you can say
“I am on my way”
Everything is going to be okay.
Even if you know where you want to go.
Often, you’ll still have to bend to the world.
You’re not the one running the show.