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    #210 How do you know you’re reaching your goal?

    I could consider myself a writer if I write 20,000 words a day – and I would be right.

    Or I could consider myself a writer if I write one sentence a day – and I would be right.

    I could consider myself a writer if I’ve written a book – and I would be right.

    Or I could consider myself a writer the moment I’ve decided I’m going to be a writer – and I would be right.

    I could consider myself a writer if I’ve built up enough self-trust and taken enough daily actions that prove that I genuinely care about being a writer – and I would be right.


    Whether you’re aware of them or not, you’re using subjective measuring sticks for everything, usually determined by upbringing, culture, and societal pressure.

    But nothing stops you from consciously choosing your measuring sticks (depending on your goals, you could make them easier or more challenging) and setting yourself up for more fulfillment and success.

    Here are some questions that can help:

    When you say you want to be {successful, happy, fulfilled, fit, wealthy}…

    How do you know you’re reaching your goal?

    Is it an achievement?

    A material possession?

    A feeling?

    An action you take?

    A decision you make?

    Choose wisely.

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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
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    #113 Make space

    Actions overrule thoughts, and sometimes the best creative act – and the one requiring the most discipline – is doing nothing.

    Because when you slow down your pace, suddenly you realize: there’s space.

    There’s space for the thoughts and feelings you were so afraid to face.

    There’s space to redirect the energy you’ve misplaced.

    There’s space to rediscover everything that escaped your gaze while you were engaged in an endless rat race.

    There’s space for you to remember
    that before you learned not to listen
    and constant distraction erased every trace
    of the insights you so desperately chase
    there was a place of stillness
    a warm embrace
    where all the answers were right there, in your face

    Only when you’ve slowed down your mind’s pace
    you realize
    you were never out of place
    you were navigating a self-inflicted maze
    with only one way out:

    Make space.

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