You don’t need to know how to do something to learn to do something.
That would be the world on its head.
After all, once upon a time, you didn’t know how to walk, speak, read, ride a bike – until you tried over and over again.
That was all you needed back then. And that’s all you need right now.
You build self-trust by taking actions – Tiny Trust Builders – in alignment with who you want to be.
I want to be a writer, and build self-trust by writing every day, even if it’s just one line.
I want to learn Portuguese, and build self-trust by practicing every day, even if it’s just 2 minutes.
But often, what stops you from taking these actions in the first place is a lack of trust in yourself.
I don’t trust myself to write every day – I’ll give up anyway.
I don’t trust myself to learn Portuguese every day – I’ll probably get busy and skip a day.
There’s only one way out of this vicious cycle:
When you don’t trust yourself to take the actions, you take a leap of faith instead.
Because with every leap, fear turns into faith, and faith into trust.
It’s not about content, it’s about consistent content.
It’s not about running, it’s about repeated running.
It’s not about meditating, it’s about many moments of meditating.@
It’s about repeated rehearsal, until you finally get it.
“Don’t you ever run out of ways to write a letter every day on the same topic?” I imagine you ask me.
In fact, I don’t have to imagine it. I have been asked this question many a time. Not in the least by myself.
Yet here we are, over 200 days in, and I’ve learned that there are many more ways to say the same thing than I ever thought possible.
What’s more: I’ve learned that they’re all equally important.
Because today’s letter could be what finally makes it click for you.
Because today’s letter could be what finally makes it click for me.
Because today’s letter invalidates my scarcity beliefs around idea generation – after all, if I can come up with a new letter every day for 200+ days, where else do I mistakenly believe I’ll run out of ideas, opportunities, or possibilities?
And, of course, because today’s letter is my personal Tiny Trust Builder.
So for as long as I can, for as long as I need it, and for as long as I believe YOU need it, you’ll receive a letter every day.
That’s right: every day, more wordplay
finding a thousand ways to say
that no matter what comes your way
only your self-trust is here to stay.
Perfect recall is paralyzing.
Not everything is worth remembering.
And life isn’t better when you’re a bad forgetter.
Maybe life becomes easier to navigate if we remember the fact that we’ll always make mistakes – and the lessons we learn from them – yet forget (forgive) the specific slip-ups we and others make.
Some things happen so fast, they catch you by surprise.
Bust most things take time.
And things taking time is perfectly fine.
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.
