#511 What comes next came before
Unexplored territory to you is usually well-trodden path to someone else.
So observe. Learn.
Because what comes next also came before.
Unexplored territory to you is usually well-trodden path to someone else.
So observe. Learn.
Because what comes next also came before.
If you knew you’d write more words tomorrow anyway…
If you knew you’d put your body in a yoga pose every day…
If you knew you’d write the same song over and over again either way…
If you knew there’d be no pressure to nail the guitar piece because tomorrow there’s another chance to play…
If you knew you’d have a lifetime of practice ahead of you – what would you focus on today?
Memory is context – in language and in general.
Context of words surrounded by other words and sounds within a sentence.
Context of words surrounded by actions – actor, action, object affected (in whatever way or order your mother tongue expresses it).
Context of words and the images they spur.
Context of words and the feelings they evoke.
When learning another language, you can link words to the context of your mother tongue.
But to truly understand them, you’ll have to create a new context too.
For example, an apple in Spanish: una manzana.
Seemingly the same object, now perceived through new sounds.
New actions.
New images.
New feelings.
Keeping all that in mind, are we really still talking about the same object? Is the Spanish manzana encerada that made me sick in Spanish the same as the apple my grandpa helped me pick? If it is, do I now have a richer perception of that object that once up on a time, I could only interact with through the limits of one language?
Learning vocabulary lists with isolated words will never get you fluent in a foreign language.
If you don’t build a new context of sounds, actions, images, feelings, you’ll always keep imposing your mother tongue on the foreign language.
That’s why you can’t just learn a foreign language. You have to live it.
A voice in my head says I can’t write every day?
I’ll write 2 sentences every day, just to prove to that voice that I, in fact, CAN write every day.
A voice in my head says I don’t have the perseverance to train for (and then finish) a marathon?
I’ll do something small to prepare for the marathon every day, so at the end of each day, I can say to myself “The proof is there, today was another day of me persevering and preparing for a marathon.”
You can’t brute-force your way out of an “I can’t do this” belief. You can only take small actions that start proving the contrary.
Slowly but surely, you chip away at the credibility of the naysayer voice, until the scale starts tipping over, and an encouraging voice emerges.
When you’re right, be right with conviction so you truly reap all the benefits.
When you’re wrong, be wrong with conviction so you truly learn your lesson.
Because the more intense the pleasure, the deeper the pain, the more you learn.
Thinking about writing makes the writing harder.
Dreaming about writing makes the writing harder.
Planning my writing sessions makes the writing harder.
But writing… that makes the writing easier.
Because most things become easier when you actually do them instead of just think about them.
Actions overrule thoughts, and sometimes the best creative act – and the one requiring the most discipline – is doing nothing.
Because when you slow down your pace, suddenly you realize: there’s space.
There’s space for the thoughts and feelings you were so afraid to face.
There’s space to redirect the energy you’ve misplaced.
There’s space to rediscover everything that escaped your gaze while you were engaged in an endless rat race.
There’s space for you to remember
that before you learned not to listen
and constant distraction erased every trace
of the insights you so desperately chase
there was a place of stillness
a warm embrace
where all the answers were right there, in your face
Only when you’ve slowed down your mind’s pace
you realize
you were never out of place
you were navigating a self-inflicted maze
with only one way out:
Make space.