#548 Why you can’t fully relax
If you can’t fully focus
You’ll never be able to fully relax
And if you can’t fully turn it on
You’ll never be able to fully turn it off
If you can’t fully focus
You’ll never be able to fully relax
And if you can’t fully turn it on
You’ll never be able to fully turn it off
I can’t predict what will happen tomorrow – or even today.
But I do know that today, I resolve to write.
And tomorrow I resolve to write once again.
And that resolve has brought me to 439 consecutive days of writing.
439 days of writing, despite living in an unpredictable world.
439 days of realizing most obstacles are excuses.
439 days of proving that resolve can bring you pretty far.
You don’t need to know how to do something to learn to do something.
That would be the world on its head.
After all, once upon a time, you didn’t know how to walk, speak, read, ride a bike – until you tried over and over again.
That was all you needed back then. And that’s all you need right now.
The dice has been cast.
The decision has been made.
Now is not the time to negotiate.
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.
Language helps us describe the world we perceive. Yet in doing so, it closes our eyes, our ears, our touch, and our heart to the parts of the world we don’t have words for.
Every language is a lens on a felt reality within and around us – both clarifying and categorizing the world, and limiting it by the words it has available.
Learning more languages gives you new lenses – and a richer sense of reality.
But just like the structure of our ears limit the sounds we can hear, and the structure of our eyes limit colors we can see, the structure of any language somehow limits our felt experience of the world.
How do we re-access memories, emotions, hidden away in a long-forgotten language?
How do we re-learn to listen to the voices of the wordless world speaking to our animal self… the voices that once upon a time, before verbal language emerged, were all we had?
there’s an eternal song
drowned out by the confines of my mother tongue
a wordless melody that once made sense
until our brain started blurring it with a lens
narrowing it down
neglecting its nuances through verbs and nounswith all its might language wants us to abide
Lukas Van Vyve
but the wordless world it tries to hide
will forever be inside
I don’t wake up every day in love with the prospect of writing a blog post.
But I do love that part of my identity is that I publish something every day.
By not publishing, I would lose that part of my identity and end up frustrated because I gave up something I enjoy. And that’s painful.
So I write.
The secret to sticking to your habits: make the pain of quitting bigger than the pain of getting over the resistance against doing what you know is good for you.
Because the pain of discipline is always easier to bear than the pain of regret.