You may want to be a published, acclaimed author, or an online writer with a massive audience. But today, all you have to do is write.
You may want to be the best marathon runner in your country. But today, all you have to do is go for one run.
Whatever lofty vision you have for yourself, today, all you have to do is take one tiny step, one Tiny Trust Builder moving you closer to the person you want to be.
What do we do when AI can cobble together in seconds essays that take us hours (or days) to write – not even counting years of practice?
Maybe it just raises the bar for us – requiring is to make new work that continues to stand out from AI-generated content.
As things stand, that’s still possible.
But what happens when the bar is set so high that our human brains can’t jump over it anymore, even with a lifetime of practice?
I can say I want to run a marathon, write a book, or have a successful career – which doesn’t mean I’ll actually end up running a marathon, writing a book, or having a successful career.
But if I’m serious about it, it does mean I’ll take daily steps towards that goal – daily actions that will change my identity.
Can I live with the present-day implications of my uncertain future visions?
If I don’t know yet if I’ll ever write the book – will these daily actions still be fulfilling to me?
Will they make me happier?
Will I be happy with the person I become by taking such daily actions?
Do these daily actions contribute to a fulfilling emotional, mental, physical, and social life?
If not, am I willing to make emotional, mental, physical, or social sacrifices?
This is a choice everyone makes for themselves.
But I don’t want to make my present day miserable for an uncertain vision of the future I don’t even know will happen.
You kind of want to run a marathon.
You kind of want to eat better.
You kind of want to move more.
You kind of want to feel better.
And everything kind of stays the same.
Only when “kind of” becomes “absolutely” and “want to” becomes “choose to” change happens.
I absolutely choose to write.
I absolutely choose to run a marathon.
I absolutely choose to eat better.
I absolutely choose to move more.
I absolutely choose to do whatever it takes to feel better.
Because there is no other way.
When I write, I’m meditating.
When I meditate, I’m writing.
When I run, I’m meditating.
When I meditate, I’m running.
When I play the guitar, I’m meditating.
When I meditate, I’m playing the guitar.
When I meditate, I’m writing.
When I write, I’m running.
When I run, I’m playing the guitar.
And no matter what I do, I’m always living.
Life experience always carries over.
Am I running to get in better shape or to get distracting thoughts out of my head?
Am I going out to enjoy being with friends or to forget my worries?
Am I writing to grow an audience or to process my own emotions?
What am I striving for?
Your answers may vary from day to day. There are no right or wrong answers anyway.
But that doesn’t mean it isn’t useful to understand why you behave the way you do.
Maybe it even makes you curious about why others behave the way they do, too.
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.
