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    #145 The practice becomes the identity

    I write every day until I’m a writer.

    I paint every day until I’m a painter.

    I practice the guitar every day until I’m a guitar player.

    I love my family every day until I become a family person.


    I prove to myself that I can take one daily action aligned with who I want to be.

    And before I know it, the practice becomes the identity.

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    #112 Chipping away at your skepticism

    You don’t have to believe you can do, be or achieve something today.

    But you must trust there’s always a tiny daily action, fairly easy to take, that goes against your disbelief.

    A tiny daily trusty builder, repeated every day, that chips away at your skepticism and plants a seed of self-trust in your brain: “Maybe I CAN change”?

    Then one day, you wake up and you believe: I can be whoever I choose to be.

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    #194 Satisfaction is an illusion

    We get hungry and look for food. Then we get hungry again.

    We get thirsty and look for water. Then we’re thirsty again.

    We want to create art and learn how to sing. Then we want to create more and learn how to draw.

    Full satisfaction with our life as it is is an illusion. Desire will always be there, even if we think we’ve reached all our goals.

    Without a gap between what we do and what we want to do, what we have and what we want, who we are and who we want to be, life becomes meaningless.

    With that knowledge, how can we still be fulfilled?

    The fulfillment formula may help:

    Regardless of outcomes and results, are the majority of your daily actions in alignment with your purpose, values, and the identity you want to forge?

  • #2 Why I write

    If writing and creating every day were as vital to my survival as drinking water, ingesting food, and bonding… What would life look like?

    Biologically, all behavior is driven by pain, pleasure, and the triggers and habits that come from repeated reaction to those stimuli.

    So I eat because I want to escape the pain of hunger – or heartbreak, sadness, and frustration.

    I connect with others because I’m neurologically hardwired to feel pleasure when bonding… and pain and deprivation when I’m abandoned.

    Similarly, I write because I want to escape the frustration of not being able to put into words an insight.

    I also write because I enjoy the rush resulting from finding the words that convey what I want to say.

    I write because I love the tingling in my back and neck when I combine those words into sentences with just the right rhythm, just the right cadence capturing the meaning, context, emotion of what I want to say…

    I write because writing wrests the essence from the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions racing through my mind and body.

    I write because when when I write, I feel that at last, I can make sense of life.

    And the more meaning I find, the more likely I am to write.

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    #216 Outward Proof of Inner Victories

    Sometimes I ask myself if you are asking yourself why I write you a short note every day, my friend.

    Maybe I’m giving myself too much credit, and you’ve never asked yourself that question.

    But I will answer it anyway, so let’s pretend you have.


    Here’s the socially acceptable answer: for more than 200 days, I’ve been writing you a short note every day to remind you to make intelligent decisions about your life and who you want to be.

    But as so often with us humans, the honest answer is more self-centered: I write you a short note every day to remind myself to make intelligent decisions about my life and who I want to be.

    The fact that some insights are helpful to you is a nice bonus. But I would also write them if you have yet to read a single one of these insights.

    Because to me, writing every day is a rallying cry for myself in an invisible battle that nobody might ever see – because it only exists in my head.

    A battle against frustration, giving up, limiting beliefs, and a cage of social conditioning from which it’s hard to break free.

    A battle to become who I’ve always wanted to be.

    Yes, every note I write to you, my friend, is outward proof of a tiny inner victory, taking tiny steps towards more self-trust and fulfillment.

    You may tell me I don’t have anything to prove to anyone, especially not myself.

    And you may be right.

    But I also know that we all have our battles to fight.

    Battles about what we believe we deserve or not.

    What we think we can do or not.

    What we believe is possible for us or not.

    What we desire.

    Who we can be.

    So while you might not be asking yourself why I write you something every day, I am asking myself which battles you are fighting.

    I am looking for outward proof of your inner victories.

    Whatever they are, when you shine a light on your invisible battles, I’ll be here to cheer you on.

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