Nobody says you must write for the rest of your life – but you could.
Nobody says you must do one job forever – but you could.
Nobody says you must live in one place forever – but you could.
You could. But you don’t have to. Unless you want to. Then you should.
No one really knows what they’re doing, no matter how loud they shout.
So don’t have to know what you’re doing yet before you start out.
Isn’t that a reassuring thought?
Almost broke the chain today.
Then I remembered:
“We must all suffer from one of two pains: the pain of discipline or the pain of regret. The difference is discipline weighs ounces while regret weighs tons.”
Jim Rohn
Nothing builds more trust than daily practice, back to back.
Today, remembering that is more than enough.
I’m back on track.
If writing and creating every day were as vital to my survival as drinking water, ingesting food, and bonding… What would life look like?
Biologically, all behavior is driven by pain, pleasure, and the triggers and habits that come from repeated reaction to those stimuli.
So I eat because I want to escape the pain of hunger – or heartbreak, sadness, and frustration.
I connect with others because I’m neurologically hardwired to feel pleasure when bonding… and pain and deprivation when I’m abandoned.
Similarly, I write because I want to escape the frustration of not being able to put into words an insight.
I also write because I enjoy the rush resulting from finding the words that convey what I want to say.
I write because I love the tingling in my back and neck when I combine those words into sentences with just the right rhythm, just the right cadence capturing the meaning, context, emotion of what I want to say…
I write because writing wrests the essence from the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions racing through my mind and body.
I write because when when I write, I feel that at last, I can make sense of life.
And the more meaning I find, the more likely I am to write.
The first hour after I was born, 60 minutes encapsulated my entire life outside the womb.
An hour is an eternity.
When I celebrated my first trip around the sun, one year encapsulated my entire life outside the womb.
An hour is not that long anymore. But a year… that’s an eternity.
When I’ll celebrate my 30th birthday next year, one year encapsulates about 1/30th of my experience in this body here on earth.
A year is not that long anymore. But 30 years… that’s an eternity.
Lukas Van Vyve
There’s an absolute, immutable version of time, and then there’s our felt interpretation, which speeds up with every passing moment because we compare it to all the “time we’ve lived so far”.
Maybe that’s why the older we get, the more effort it takes to stay in the present moment?
Because, unlike a newborn child, for whom, compared to its short lifespan, an hour is an eternity, and every second is an opportunity to discover, drink in the world, explore…
We’ve lived so many hours, minutes, and seconds that we don’t care anymore.
with every passing year
Lukas Van Vyve
i’m more in a hurry
and the days, minutes, seconds
become ever more blurry
i can live fast and miss out
or slow down
listen, look around
be here, right now
let the world whisper loud
what life is all about
and at last
i hear you again.
Be fulfilled with what you do (and be happy with what you don’t do).
Be intentional with what you do.
Be consistent with what you do.
Because what you do will change you.
And when you change, you might just get everything you ever wanted.
And you might just become happy with what you have.
Your best writing can only happen when you’re writing.
Your running PR can only happen when you’re running.
And your most cherished moments with friends can only happen when you’re with your friends.
You can try to time life.
But the only foolproof way to live your best moments do is by showing up in the moment.
