#165 Writing doesn’t mean writing

I commit to taking a cold shower. To publish a daily blog post. To do a yoga class, because these actions contribute to my vision for who I want to be.

I commit, despite the knowledge that when the time has come, right before I turn the shower tap to cold, I won’t want to take a cold shower.

That right before I start writing an article, my mind will throw a million distractios at me.

That right before my yoga workout, my mind will start negotiating with itself, coming up with reasons why I’d better do something else.

“Today it’s cold outside, what if I start tomorrow?”
“I don’t feel like it today, maybe I’ll just write two articles tomorrow?”
“{{insert any excuse my mind makes up to avoid short-term discomfort}}

But now is not the time to negotiate.

Do I choose the long-term pain of regret over the short-term pain of discipline?

Do I choose to cultivate a procrastinator identity, or do I become a go-getter?

Who do I want (and choose) to be?

I can evaluate and adjust my plan afterwards.

But now is not the time to negotiate.

Trying to become good fast makes you impatient. And impatience may well stop you from ever becoming good in the first place.

Because the only way to become good is by understanding that in today’s practice session, you likely won’t be perfect anyway.

That you likely won’t write your most insightful words.

That you likely won’t run an all-time best.

That you’ll likely spend a large part of your yoga session stumbling and losing balance.

When you go into your practice session with that mindset…

Suddenly it makes sense to focus hard on getting that one sentence right.

Now it makes sense to focus on rhythmic breathing while running instead of pushing for a better time.

Now it makes sense to focus on a tiny part of your body during an entire yoga session to train your awareness instead of trying to chase poses because “they look professional.”

Even if there is not much time to “become good,” it still makes sense to assume there is time.

Because that gives you the freedom to focus on the small adjustments that prepare you for when the time comes, and you truly need to perform.

Since I’m always practicing anyway, I don’t have to be good at this today.

The article I publish today may be worse than one I wrote 2 months ago.

I may struggle today with a guitar piece I played effortlessly last week.

And when I meditate today, my mind may be all over the place, even though last week it was calm as water.

On any given day, I may feel that I’m making progress, that I’ve reached a plateau, or even that I’m going backwards.

But it doesn’t matter.

Progress isn’t always visible in daily practice. But without daily practice, there is no progress.

If I stick to daily practice, on average, I’ll get better. I’ll start having more good days than bad. And slowly but surely, my ‘bad days’ will start being better than what I consider a ‘good day’ right now.

Progress, averaged out is what it’s all about.