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    #32 Before I learned not to listen

    Before I learned not to listen
    I would stand
    seemingly still
    but secretly swaying
    swallowed up by a willow tree
    and its play with the wind

    Before I learned not to listen
    I would hold my head against the rind
    reach
    reconnect with an old friend
    the way it has always felt best
    cheek pressed to chest

    Before I learned not to listen
    a breeze in the leaves
    rustling ruminating
    would sound like raindrops in my ears
    making my eyes answer
    with a torrent of tears

    Before I learned not to listen
    a rolling thunder
    thumping like a beating heart
    would rumble from my cheek to my ear
    replacing my fear
    with a memory I used to held dear
    we were never really apart

    Before I learned not to listen
    before the lust for language
    reduced what I could see
    and sense within
    I would allow the whispers of the wordless world
    speak to me like kin

    Before I learned not to listen
    I would accept
    that once upon a time
    I remembered your name
    and once upon a time we both knew
    we were one and all the same

    Lukas Van Vyve
  • #6 Brevity

    As I gain more expertise in a certain field, I expect my posts on that topic to get shorter.

    Because raw material starts with a lot of fluff, and only through sculpting away, day by day do I get closer to the essence.

    So…

    If my posts on a topic I’m familiar with are getting longer on average, I’m off-track.

    If they become more abstract, I’m getting off-track.

    In other words…

    When I don’t yet have so much to say
    I can’t stop talking
    Until I sculpt away
    Realize
    Some words matter more than others
    And what’s left is
    Enough

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    #43 Quick-Start Guide to Stream of Consciousness Journaling (Morning Pages)

    On 1. January 2021, I started writing 3 pages of stream-of-consciousness journaling a day. I haven’t missed a day since. That’s 663 days in a row: an inner dialogues of 1989 pages poured in to piles of journals.

    Stream-of-consciousness journaling is also often called Morning Pages (a term coined by Julia Cameron in her book “The Artist’s Way“).

    The idea is that you wake up in the morning and before you do anything else, take a journal and pen, and you start externalizing the voice talking to yourself in your head on the page.

    You don’t stop to think about perfect phrasing (your inner voice never stops talking, either). In fact, you don’t lift your pen off the paper at all until you’ve filled 3 pages.

    Shopping lists, to-dos, dreams, interactions, worries, fears, excitement, goals, friends, family, memories, ideas, goals,… whatever’s on your mind.

    No poetry, no perfect prose, no structured sentences, no coherent insights – unless that’s what flows out of you.

    No judgment either. You never even have to read this back.

    Nothing but pure, unfiltered stream of consciousness.

    This simple practice has transformed me.

    Why write Morning Pages?

    • The feeling of liberation once you’re able to relax your mind and channel your stream of consciousness. Like an athlete “in the zone”, your mind becomes one with the pen in your hand, and words flow from your head and heart onto the paper. Once you get it, writing 3 pages becomes easy – after all, your inner voice never shuts up.
    • Intentionality. When I write them by hand, it seems to slow me down just enough to get in the zone, calm my racing thoughts and think more slowly and deliberately.
    • Creative breakthroughs. You start by writing down everything on your mind in an unfiltered way, free of judgment and stress. Then, you start “sculpting away, day by day.
    • Externalizing thought patterns, loops, destructive self-talk. Once they’re on the page, it’s hard to ignore the way you speak to yourself.
    • Recognize recurring patterns and topics that come back over and over again.

    Tips for success:

    • Write 3 pages today. Not more, not less. But do it today. Cut yourself off when you reach 3 pages. Today. Repeat tomorrow.
    • Don’t read your notes back. Don’t show them to anyone. You want this to be pure, raw, unfiltered stream of consciousness. This is not publication material, this is a representation of your messy internal dialogue.
    • If you have a creative breakthrough or interesting idea while writing your Morning Pages, keep writing until the 3 pages are full; then make a separate note about the idea or insight you had.
    • See it as a huge unpolished pile of thoughts with interesting connections; then use that to uncover interesting connections, good ideas that you can further develop. Good ideas and insights will be buried in a sea of fluff – and that’s fine. Volume matters. (again, sculpting away, day by day)
    • Julia Cameron suggests writing your Morning Pages right after you get out of bed – before your ego wakes up.

    Or don’t do any of the above and just write.

    Write first thing tomorrow morning.

    Don’t overthink it, just write.

    Don’t read it back, just write.

    Don’t worry about grammar, just write.

    Then when you’re done, write some more.

  • #20 I’ve never tried that before, so…

    In the series of unlikely life advice: a quote ascribed to Astrid Lindgren’s legendary character Pippi Longstocking.

    I have never tried that before, so I think I should definitely be able to do that.

    https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/6773397-i-have-never-tried-that-before-so-i-think-i

    Only after reading this quote I realized how often we all hold the opposite belief: I have never tried that before, so I think I am not (and will never be) able to do that.

    What a sad and disempowering belief.

    Which begs the question…

    Where are you disqualifying yourself before even trying it out first?

    What would life be like if your default belief is that things you haven’t tried before are possible for you?

    How would that change your decisions?

    How much fear and frustration would you leave behind?

    Might be worth journaling about.

  • #361 How to overcome the seemingly impossible

    You’ve spent your lifetime bumping into the limits of what you deem possible.

    And you’ve also spent your lifetime overcoming the seemingly impossible.

    Sit. Crawl. Walk. Speak. Read. Find love. Get over loss and heartbreak. Travel. Invent. Create. Learn. Write.

    Overcoming the seemingly impossible is what makes you you.

    Once you accept that, the question shifts from, “What’s possible for me?” to, “What are you overcoming next?”

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