#259 What dictates your day
A rough morning doesn’t mean a rough day – but it could.
A pleasant morning doesn’t mean a pleasant day – but it could.
A rough morning doesn’t mean a rough day – but it could.
A pleasant morning doesn’t mean a pleasant day – but it could.
Progress is a silent play, but it’s the whispers of daily practice that leads to the roars of fulfilment.
Even your “bad days” are stepping stones to a brighter “good day”.
Slow and steady.
Journaling question of the day: Why am I rushing?
Out of habit and automaticity – mindlessness caused by endless repetition?
Out of discomfort – I want to get out of this situation as soon as possible?
Out of impatience – I expect whatever comes next to be more interesting or riveting?
What would happen if I don’t rush this?
By interrupting the automaticity and slowing down, will I reopen my senses and discover new nuances?
By not rushing away from discomfort, will I discover everything is not as bad as I feared it would be?
By resisting impatience, can I become fascinated with whatever is happening right here, right now?
I can choose to procrastinate on a project for weeks – then finish it all in one go, right before the deadline.
In absolute terms, I might have been very efficient with my time – but the time I saved, I spent frustrated with myself.
The long-term effect on my self-image: I’m a procrastinator.
What if I work a little bit on a project every single day – and have it finished well before the deadline?
I might spend more time in total – but every day, every moment spent makes me feel good about myself.
The long-term effect on my self-image: I cultivate an identity of discipline and consistency. I do what I believe to be good for me. I build character. Taking small daily actions towards a goal becomes part of my identity.
What’s more: I avoid the frustration and resentment that comes with procrastination (=not doing what I know I should be doing), and feel good about myself instead.
Long-term, the benefits of small daily actions always outweigh huge last-minute efforts.
The only future we habitually see for ourselves is the one our past illuminates.
The moment we take a flashlight, intentionally aim our gaze, and look at what lies beyond the shade of the past, we see what’s truly possible for us.
It’s a counterintuitive process.
It takes courage and energy.
It’s what intentional living is all about.
der Musenkuss (German) The kiss of the Muse
Creativity becomes much easier if you see it as a game of finding new ways of describing what has always been there.
Observing, rather than inventing.
It’s liberating. Because now the game changes from pulling ideas out of thin air to a game of discovery. Observation. Paying attention. Building upon what’s already discovered, then connecting the dots in way nobody else has.
Most of all: listening, when the muse finally arrives and visits you for a kiss.
There’s this voice in my mind
Impossible to ignore
And yet I fill my head with noise
Drowning out
What deep down I know to be true
Do I even want to admit
That this song in my heart
Is not about me
But about you?
P.S.: I’ve observed the same principle in language learning (and wrote a book about the consequences of this mindset shift).
Which begs the question…
Where else would we do better if we observed a bit more, rather than trying to invent from scratch?
What would you finally dare to do today
if you knew whatever you try will never be perfect anyway?
Publish a story with typos and awkward sentences?
Run a marathon without finishing it?
Play a guitar piece and trip up five times?
Sing in front of other people and miss a note?
Try a new yoga pose in class and fall over?
Nothing will be perfect today.
Nothing will be perfect tomorrow.
But if you take imperfect action
and dare to publish imperfect work
everything you do will have the perfect taste of progress and consistency.
And that’s all that counts anyway.