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  • #392 Why it’s fine to go slow and steady

    It’s fine to go slow and steady until you’re ready to go faster.

    And even when you’re ready to go faster, it’s still fine to go slow and steady.

    Slow and steady, so you have the space to listen to the sounds.

    Slow and steady, so you have time to look around.

    Slow and steady, so you don’t burn out.

    Slow and steady, so you enjoy the journey.

    Slow and steady.

    Always moving.

    Always in flow.

    Always ready.

    When you go slow and steady.

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    #49 Moderate to get more

    A neurotransmitter that once helped us evolve and motivated us to go out and explore the world now has us glued to screens and plates filled with sugary food.

    Dopamine tells us not just to eat, but to eat more.

    Not just to read a useful article, but click more headlines.

    Swipe through more videos and photos.

    Watch more episodes on Netflix.

    Yet, when I interrupt the dopamine reward loop and resist the need for more, I’m pulled back into the now, and strangely enough, I actually see more. Hear more. Feel more.

    Sometimes, to get more, you need to moderate.

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    #180 Progressive Insight

    Performance gap: the frustrating gap between how you know something should be done in an ideal world and how you currently do it. 

    One implication of the performance gap: you don’t have to master this skill today.

    Another implication, maybe even more important: your idea of how something “should be done” is probably wrong anyway.

    Because as you practice and gain mastery, you’ll also gain progressive insight: a more nuanced intellectual understanding of the skill you’re practicing.

    What I thought was a “good” yoga session six months ago, I now see as a session full of misalignment and cramped muscles.

    What I thought of as a solid piece of writing six months ago, I now see as an argument full of holes and points of improvement.

    Sometimes, progressive insight is just about more nuances.

    Sometimes, progressive insight shows that your initial intellectual understanding completely missed the mark.

    There’s only one way to find out: practice: Sculpt away, day by day

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    #8 Musenküsse

    klimt-the-kiss-musenkuss
    Gustav Klimt’s The Kiss (1907-1908).

    der Musenkuss (German) The kiss of the Muse

    Creativity becomes much easier if you see it as a game of finding new ways of describing what has always been there.

    Observing, rather than inventing.

    It’s liberating. Because now the game changes from pulling ideas out of thin air to a game of discovery. Observation. Paying attention. Building upon what’s already discovered, then connecting the dots in way nobody else has.

    Most of all: listening, when the muse finally arrives and visits you for a kiss.

    There’s this voice in my mind
    Impossible to ignore
    And yet I fill my head with noise
    Drowning out
    What deep down I know to be true
    Do I even want to admit
    That this song in my heart
    Is not about me
    But about you?

    P.S.: I’ve observed the same principle in language learning (and wrote a book about the consequences of this mindset shift).

    Which begs the question…

    Where else would we do better if we observed a bit more, rather than trying to invent from scratch?

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    #45 The tragedy of the spoken word

    Language helps us describe the world we perceive. Yet in doing so, it closes our eyes, our ears, our touch, and our heart to the parts of the world we don’t have words for.

    Every language is a lens on a felt reality within and around us – both clarifying and categorizing the world, and limiting it by the words it has available.

    Learning more languages gives you new lenses – and a richer sense of reality.

    But just like the structure of our ears limit the sounds we can hear, and the structure of our eyes limit colors we can see, the structure of any language somehow limits our felt experience of the world.

    How do we re-access memories, emotions, hidden away in a long-forgotten language?

    How do we re-learn to listen to the voices of the wordless world speaking to our animal self… the voices that once upon a time, before verbal language emerged, were all we had?

    there’s an eternal song
    drowned out by the confines of my mother tongue
    a wordless melody that once made sense
    until our brain started blurring it with a lens
    narrowing it down
    neglecting its nuances through verbs and nouns

    with all its might language wants us to abide
    but the wordless world it tries to hide
    will forever be inside

    Lukas Van Vyve

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