What if you could? What if you could already do what you believe you still can’t?
Maybe the key isn’t to become a different person, but to believe in the person you already are.
Whoever or whatever you aspire to be is not as far off as you might think.
Writing is hard – but I’d love to be a writer, so I write.
Painting is hard – and I wouldn’t love being a painter, so I don’t paint.
Some things are worth the struggle and sacrifice for me – and maybe not for you.
Some things are worth the struggle and sacrifice for you – and maybe not for me.
Does a day end, or does a new one start?
Does the end of a book chapter signal termination, or does it serve as a gateway to an unexplored continuation?
Maybe we don’t need to arbitrarily mark endings and beginnings in lives that consist of an uninterrupted flow.
Maybe we’re just a tiny plot in a story spanning billions of years.
Maybe we don’t grasp the bigger story anyway.
Maybe it’s all the same.
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.
Am I running to get in better shape or to get distracting thoughts out of my head?
Am I going out to enjoy being with friends or to forget my worries?
Am I writing to grow an audience or to process my own emotions?
What am I striving for?
Your answers may vary from day to day. There are no right or wrong answers anyway.
But that doesn’t mean it isn’t useful to understand why you behave the way you do.
Maybe it even makes you curious about why others behave the way they do, too.
Learning often implies discovering what you can’t do.
I can’t write and convey what I want to say. I can’t speak Spanish fluently. I can’t do this yoga pose.
For many people that’s also the final destination, when in fact, it’s only the start.
We’re missing a word: Learning is discovering what you can’t do yet.
Or, even better:
Learning is discovering what, through diligent practice, you’ll soon be able to do.
After all, actions overrule thoughts.
I can’t write and find the right words… yet. But with diligent practice, soon, I’ll be able to convey what I want to say.
I’m not able to do this yoga pose… yet. But with diligent practice, soon I will.
I can’t speak Spanish fluently… yet. But with diligent practice, soon I will.
That’s all there is to it.
Discover your current limit. Realize that through diligent practice, you’ll overcome it.
Then you’ll find a new limit. And through diligent practice, you’ll overcome it.
Until you find a new limit, which you’ll overcome… through diligent practice.
Where do you let the discovery of your current limit be your end station?
To become you want to be (but aren’t yet) you have to start doing what you want to do (but aren’t doing yet).
Who do you want to be?
Which actions would that person take?
The questions are simple. But the path is erratic.
And that’s okay.
As long as you ask them once in a while, you’re well on your way.
