What would you like to become good at?
Why do you want to become good at this? Passion? Purpose? Impressing others?
Are you willing to spend a lot of time to become good at this?
Are you willing to give up other things to become good at this?
Are you making life harder for yourself by trying to become good at this?
Is that worth it?
…
The question that rules them all:
How easy was it to answer the questions above?
when the cracks in my faux finish
finally appear
my mind screams out
you’re coming too nearyet i resist the need to hide
lean in to the fear
let the cracks grow wide
because after all these years
slowly steadily submerged under layers of snow
frozen frightened i don’t know where else to goi feel i’m sliding back into my head
but you don’t let me
instead
you keep me here
make even more light appear
look at the fear
until the icy flawed frozen faux finish finally fully melts away
into a trembling torrent of tearsand through the sobs
subtle shining light teardrops
mix mingle mend my mind
my heart my soul a warmth so kindyou guide my gaze and through the tears
in my eyes a rainbow appears
eclipsing the fear
making it clear
that when I dare to feel complete
allow your heart and mine to meeti finally remember
that I’m enough
i’ve always beenand at last
Lukas Van Vyve
i can be seen
The most important habit milestone is the center of gravity shift.
Initially, when you start building a new skill, your center of gravity lies with your old identity. You’re constantly fighting the pull of your old identity. And if you’d stop for even a day, you’ll get pulled right back into your old habits.
“If I don’t write today, what does that say about me? I’ve always given up in the past, and with this habit, it’ll be the same.”
The center of gravity shift happens when you’re about to miss a day and realize:
“It doesn’t matter, tomorrow I’ll start again anyway.”
When you’ve cast so many votes for your “identity of perseverance” you know that missing one day doesn’t equal giving up anymore.
When not writing for a day has become the exception, and when it happens, I get pulled right back into my writing habit.
Before the shift happens, when you’re still building self-trust, discipline is key.
But after your center of gravity has shifted to align with what you want to do anyway… you’re free.
Performance gap: the frustrating gap between how you know something should be done in an ideal world and how you currently do it.
One implication of the performance gap: you don’t have to master this skill today.
Another implication, maybe even more important: your idea of how something “should be done” is probably wrong anyway.
Because as you practice and gain mastery, you’ll also gain progressive insight: a more nuanced intellectual understanding of the skill you’re practicing.
What I thought was a “good” yoga session six months ago, I now see as a session full of misalignment and cramped muscles.
What I thought of as a solid piece of writing six months ago, I now see as an argument full of holes and points of improvement.
Sometimes, progressive insight is just about more nuances.
Sometimes, progressive insight shows that your initial intellectual understanding completely missed the mark.
There’s only one way to find out: practice: Sculpt away, day by day.
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.
Even if you know where you want to go.
Often, you’ll still have to bend to the world.
You’re not the one running the show.
What about second-hand memories? Accounts of past events we didn’t experience ourselves, wars, volcano eruptions, scientific discoveries,…
For knowledge to accumulate, to stand on the shoulders of giants, we need to transmit such lessons too. Not just as data or accounts of the past – also as memories.
But transmitting second-hand memories require trust.
Can we rely on the interpretation of others?
Who do we allow to control the narrative?
Parents? Elders? Teachers? Governments and politicians?
YouTubers? Influencers? Bloggers? Twitter gurus?
AI models and chatbots?
Objective data doesn’t exist. Objective memories don’t exist either. So if we can’t trust second-hand memories anymore, collective memory and our whole learning model collapses.
