When I write, I’m meditating.
When I meditate, I’m writing.
When I run, I’m meditating.
When I meditate, I’m running.
When I play the guitar, I’m meditating.
When I meditate, I’m playing the guitar.
When I meditate, I’m writing.
When I write, I’m running.
When I run, I’m playing the guitar.
And no matter what I do, I’m always living.
Life experience always carries over.
You’re likely to encounter consistency challenges.
After all, nobody feels motivated every day.
Maybe you’ll have a day where you’re busy or not feeling great, and writing, running, or doing yoga, seems like the last thing you want to do.
Luckily, you don’t need to feel motivated to write one sentence.
You don’t even need to want to write to have words appear on the screen or paper.
You just need to be reminded that you want to be a writer.
And writers write, even if they don’t feel like it.
And so it goes for runners, yogis, meditators, athletes, crafstmen, lovers.
What’s the one Tiny Trust Builder you can do for yourself; one little thing thing that makes you feel good about yourself, and because you feel good, you’re good to other around you too?
What’s that one small constraint YOU decide to put on your day that, when protected fiercely, makes everything else so much better?
And if you know it makes everything better and you aren’t protecting it fiercely yet – why not?
Could you start today?
Intentional living is about reminding yourself of what’s most important to you.
Reminding yourself that you can choose to be a writer, a runner, a musician, an artist, or a bon vivant.
Reminding yourself that you can choose to be kind to others.
Reminding yourself that you have a choice to act differently.
Reminding yourself that the past does not equal the future.
Reminding yourself that this, too, shall pass.
Reminding yourself that at any given moment, whatever reminder you need the most, you likely won’t think of yourself.
Reminding yourself that for this reason, it’s OK to get help and let someone else remind you with short daily notes.
And me, reminding myself that the act of writing daily reminders for you is the reminder I need to remember that I do, in fact, choose to be consistent, and I choose to be a writer.
Reminders upon reminders upon reminders that we will constantly get distracted, and we will always have the choice to come back to what truly matters.
Knowledge transfer always implies time collapse. Because learning an insight from someone else usually takes less long than figuring it out yourself.
Take books. The writer usually spent considerable time researching and distilling the topic and coming to good insights (time I might not be able to dedicate).
Thanks to that writer, I can now consume that knowledge in, say 6-12 hours of reading the book. A considerable time collapse…
But when does time collapse go to far?
Can I read a 1-page summary of that book and truly say I grasp the topic?
When your brain gets space to breathe, knowledge grows and nuance shows. It needs time and repeated exposure to absorb information, make connections, and discover new insights.
So a one-page summary isn’t necessarily too shallow… On the contrary: it collapses time so much that information becomes very dense.
What with the evolution towards short-form online content? The primary purpose of TikTok videos and Instagram reels might be to entertain, but the trend is clear and spills over into education, our attention span, and knowledge transfer: shorter, more shallow, yet more dense.
Too little time collapse and we can’t make progress.
Too much time collapse and knowledge collapses with it.
Following rules just because they’re rules is silly.
Breaking rules just because you like breaking rules is equally silly.
I am inspired when I write, because I care about writing.
I am disappointed when I don’t write, because I care about writing.
I am delighted when there are no traffic jams, because I care about efficiency.
I am frustrated when the train is delayed, because I care about efficiency.
Strong emotions are the most honest answer to the question, “Do I care?”
”But should I care?” I hear you ask.
Well, my friend, that’s a different question.
