Be a writer, and write.
Be a runner, and run.
Be a singer, and sing.
Be a teacher, and teach.
Be a parent, and love your children.
Be a lover, and love your partner.
I believe this is who I am. I believe this is what I do.
I believe I am free. And so are you.
There used to be a time when you didn’t have words for your feelings. You just felt them.
You didn’t have words to say that your parents are your parents. You just knew it.
You didn’t have words for the sounds other humans made. Like singing birds, a buzzing bumblebee, or a rolling thunder, it was all just vibrating air.
What was your experience of reality like before words started categorizing, abstracting and limiting what you could see, hear, touch and feel?
You don’t always need to know what you’re doing things for before you do them.
Sometimes you have to do them first, before you can figure out what you’re doing them for.
When everything is urgent, how do we know what to do first?
One solution is adding more nuance:
What’s the most urgent?
What’s the most important?
Breathing is urgent.
A crying child is urgent.
A toilet visit can be urgent.
Sending that email out tonight right before bed instead of tomorrow, maybe not so much?
Here’s the important question:
If you’re going to prioritize the urgent matters anyway, why stress yourself out by calling everything urgent in the first place?
Making everything urgent devalues truly urgent matters.
Because when everything is urgent, nothing is urgent anymore.
The Pareto principle states that for many outcomes, roughly 80% of consequences come from 20% of causes (the “vital few”).
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pareto_principle
I’m okay with publishing 80% rubbish if that’s what it takes to stumble upon something good.
But if only 20% of what I publish is any good, and I publish one post a week, then on average, I’ll only publish something insightful once every five weeks.
If I publish once a day, then on average, I’ll publish something insightful more than once a week.
This is why I’m okay with publishing a daily blog post.
It’ also why I write pages and pages of stream-of-consciousness journaling every day, most of it rubbish, whining, scattered thoughts, if that’s what it takes to get to that one insight or breakthrough. Sculpting away, day by day.
Write more rubbish, and you’ll write more good stuff too.
Volume matters.
You’re dissatisfied with your social life, but not so much that you feel terribly lonely – so you don’t change anything.
You’re dissatisfied with your physical fitness, but not so much that you’re in pain every day – so you put up with slow deterioration.
You’re dissatisfied with your current job, but not so much that you’re dragging yourself to work – so you put up with unfulfilling days.
Being satisfied with some areas of your life is good.
Being intensely dissatisfied with some areas of your life is fine, too – because that unhappiness can be the leverage you need to make a change.
But comfortable dissatisfaction – that’s the zone where dreams and happiness go to die. And boy, have I spent a lot of time there.
So I hope you are satisfied with your life, my friend.
And if not, I hope you’re at least intensely dissatisfied.
Let that be the fuel you need to take action to change.
Only when you stop worrying about whether you’re a good writer do you have a shot at being a writer.
Only when you stop worrying about whether you’re a good friend, you have a shot at having true friendship.
Only when the worries stop, does the potential show up.
