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    #263 Stop, even if you could do more

    Ernest Hemingway allegedly stopped his writing sessions in the middle of a sentence so he knew how to start his next session. He stopped writing, even if he could do more.

    Julia Cameron teaches to write precisely three pages of stream-of-consciousness journaling a day. Stop journaling, even if you could do more.

    I’ve gotten better results studying foreign languages 20 minutes a day for several months than rushing into a new language and studying it for 3 hours a day, then crashing and burning. I stop myself from learning, even if I could do more.

    Because burnout and overindulgence stifle progress, and in the long run, moderation leads to more.

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    #48 Volume matters

    The Pareto principle states that for many outcomes, roughly 80% of consequences come from 20% of causes (the “vital few”).

    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pareto_principle

    I’m okay with publishing 80% rubbish if that’s what it takes to stumble upon something good.

    But if only 20% of what I publish is any good, and I publish one post a week, then on average, I’ll only publish something insightful once every five weeks.

    If I publish once a day, then on average, I’ll publish something insightful more than once a week.

    This is why I’m okay with publishing a daily blog post.

    It’ also why I write pages and pages of stream-of-consciousness journaling every day, most of it rubbish, whining, scattered thoughts, if that’s what it takes to get to that one insight or breakthrough. Sculpting away, day by day.

    Write more rubbish, and you’ll write more good stuff too.

    Volume matters.

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    #23 For all the languages I’ve learned

    For all the languages I’ve learned
    trying in vain to put the inner and outer world into words
    closely but not completely capturing the essence
    I now realize the biggest insights reveal themselves
    where words are worthless and feelings reign
    where they are felt and lived, embodied,
    refusing to be rationalized, categorized
    or undergo the violent limitations of our words.

    Maybe language learning is more about admitting that some languages are lived, not learned.

    That some insights are felt, not expressed.

    That sometimes words create distance from what we experience deep down, instead of offering the clarity we seek.

    Accepting that may well be the biggest challenge of all.

    There is a voice that doesn’t use words. Listen.

    Rumi
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    #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

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