It’s not a masterpiece.
It’s not a love song.
It’s not a poem.
Make it not about what you create but about the very fact that you’re creating.
Ugly, pretty, insightful, bland. It doesn’t matter. Just externalize your mind’s chatter.
Some people think they can’t build habits because they’re lazy.
Maybe we all are – so we might as well make laziness the key to building habits.
I write only one short daily post because I know I won’t stick to writing long-form posts – and when I feel like writing long-form, it doesn’t feel like an obligation but a treat. Laziness built the writing habit, and laziness makes me feel good when I write more.
I do 5-minute daily meditations because I know I won’t stick to 30-minute meditation as a habit – yet when I DO meditate for 30 minutes, it feels like a treat. Laziness built the meditation habit, and laziness makes me feel good when I meditate more.
If you are so sure you won’t stick to anything overly ambitious, what’s the laziest way you could implement a behavior change? Can you use that as your starting point to build life-changing habits?
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 won’t feel that you’re getting addicted to social media when you scroll through feeds on your smartphone every day. But you are.
You also won’t feel that you’re becoming a writer when you write just 1 minute a day. But you are.
You’re always on track to doing something or becoming someone. But rarely will it feel that way in the day to day.
Choose wisely.
I could decide that writing less than 1000 words a day would be a failure – and I would be correct.
I could decide that writing more than 50 words a day would be a failure – and I would be correct.
I could decide that not writing today would be failure – and I would be correct.
After all, for many things in life, you get to decide yourself what’s failure and what’s success.
In fact, my friend, just like me you may have already decided for yourself what’s failure and what’s success.
And just like me, you may need a reminder of that decision once in a while, so you can verify if it still serves you.
This is that reminder.
Which serves me well, because my decision was that writing you this short daily letter is exactly right.
See you tomorrow.
I can’t just say, “today, I’m going to be excellent at writing.”
Excellence is an outcome: a result of focused daily actions.
And one of the fastest ways to excellence is the pursuit of failure.
Not just making accidental mistakes but actively seeking them out.
Did I write nonsense today? Did I understand why I was writing nonsense? Have I learned something from writing that nonsense that will help me write something less nonsensical tomorrow?
The pursuit of failure is painful, especially for perfectionists like me.
But once ego, perfectionism, and the fear of failure make way for a commitment to the process, there’s much to learn from daily mistakes.
If you know the journey of writing a book is filled with days where you won’t feel like writing, days where you won’t feel like writing aren’t a distraction – they’re a sign you’re on the right path.
After all, if you know setbacks are what makes your journey your journey, how could your journey be disturbed by setbacks?
