#326 What you care most about will show up in what you do
No matter if you write or not, run or not, spend time with family or not…
No matter what you say, what you care most about will show up in what you do.
No matter if you write or not, run or not, spend time with family or not…
No matter what you say, what you care most about will show up in what you do.
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 don’t care what I write.
I care that I write.
Because only once the daily act of writing isn’t in question anymore, can I start writing what matters.
To become consistent, you have to go beyond wanting. You have to need it.
It’s not about figuring out where you’d like to end up – it’s about deciding where you must go.
It’s about creating a driving force within yourself.
A commitment so strong that you can’t ignore it anymore.
If writing and creating every day were as vital to my survival as drinking water, ingesting food, and bonding… What would life look like?
Biologically, all behavior is driven by pain, pleasure, and the triggers and habits that come from repeated reaction to those stimuli.
So I eat because I want to escape the pain of hunger – or heartbreak, sadness, and frustration.
I connect with others because I’m neurologically hardwired to feel pleasure when bonding… and pain and deprivation when I’m abandoned.
Similarly, I write because I want to escape the frustration of not being able to put into words an insight.
I also write because I enjoy the rush resulting from finding the words that convey what I want to say.
I write because I love the tingling in my back and neck when I combine those words into sentences with just the right rhythm, just the right cadence capturing the meaning, context, emotion of what I want to say…
I write because writing wrests the essence from the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions racing through my mind and body.
I write because when when I write, I feel that at last, I can make sense of life.
And the more meaning I find, the more likely I am to write.
It’s about the way you say, “I’m tired, and I’m here anyway.”
It’s about the way you say, “I’m exhausted, I’m skipping this one, and that’s okay, because I’ll be back on track the next day.”
It’s about the way you say, “Come what may, I’m in this, and from my chosen path, I won’t be led astray.”
It’s about intentionality and elastic discipline.
It’s about direction.
Most of all, it’s about feeling good, not guilty.
Now is the time to put my heart on the line.
Because whatever I do at this very moment is a direct vote for who I want to be.
But before I let the gravity of the moment paralyze me, I realize – this is not my first vote, and it won’t be my last.
Another present moment will soon arrive, and with the passing of time, another opportunity to put my heart on the line.
Too much pressure on one moment leads to perfectionism and paralysis.
Too much focus on “this one moment doesn’t matter” leads to defeatism and lethargy.
Be intentional about the present moment because it’s the only vote you can directly influence.
Then be aware of the aggregate of your actions because your identity emerges from the majority of your votes.
Who do you choose to be?