Similar Posts

  • | |

    #69 Evening Questions

    I like to journal in the morning.

    But if I’d journal in the evening, this is what I’d ask myself:

    “Were my actions today actions of the person I choose to be? Or were they actions of a person driven by old patterns, habits and limiting beliefs?”

    “Did my actions bring me closer to where I choose to go? Or did they keep me stuck in a place I really don’t want to be anymore?”

    “Did my actions make me feel good about myself? Or did they make me resent myself?”

    What can I do differently tomorrow?

  • #345 Why being good isn’t relevant

    People can think you’re not good at writing, and you can still write – and love it.

    You can think you’re not good at writing, and you can still write – and love it.

    You can think you’ll never be good at writing, and you can still write – and love it.

    Because whether you’re good at something or not is nowhere nearly as relevant as how fulfilled it makes you feel.

  • #342 You’re always on track

    You won’t feel that you’re getting addicted to social media when you scroll through feeds on your smartphone every day. But you are.

    You also won’t feel that you’re becoming a writer when you write just 1 minute a day. But you are.

    You’re always on track to doing something or becoming someone. But rarely will it feel that way in the day to day.

    Choose wisely.

  • | |

    #45 The tragedy of the spoken word

    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 nouns

    with all its might language wants us to abide
    but the wordless world it tries to hide
    will forever be inside

    Lukas Van Vyve

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *