You don’t have to become a writer. But you could. Even if you don’t believe it yet.
And if knowing that you could makes you restless…
If the fact that it’s possible makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up…
If a persistent “What if” keeps echoing through your mind…
Then maybe you should become a writer.
Similarly, you don’t have to be passionate about anything. But you could.
And if you could… what would you be passionate about?
AI may write like us – but why do we write in the first place?
AI may translate what we say – but why do we say what we say in the first place?
AI may do what we do – but why do we do what we do in the first place?
Does AI merely regurgitate and build upon what we’ve already said and done?
Do we merely regurgitate and build upon what others have already said and done?
What drives our words and actions?
Experience can make you better at performing an activity but also blind you from what you could do differently (and better).
Sometimes, the only way to innovate, see, and be free, is to take your experience goggles off.
Sometimes I ask myself if you are asking yourself why I write you a short note every day, my friend.
Maybe I’m giving myself too much credit, and you’ve never asked yourself that question.
But I will answer it anyway, so let’s pretend you have.
Here’s the socially acceptable answer: for more than 200 days, I’ve been writing you a short note every day to remind you to make intelligent decisions about your life and who you want to be.
But as so often with us humans, the honest answer is more self-centered: I write you a short note every day to remind myself to make intelligent decisions about my life and who I want to be.
The fact that some insights are helpful to you is a nice bonus. But I would also write them if you have yet to read a single one of these insights.
Because to me, writing every day is a rallying cry for myself in an invisible battle that nobody might ever see – because it only exists in my head.
A battle against frustration, giving up, limiting beliefs, and a cage of social conditioning from which it’s hard to break free.
A battle to become who I’ve always wanted to be.
Yes, every note I write to you, my friend, is outward proof of a tiny inner victory, taking tiny steps towards more self-trust and fulfillment.
You may tell me I don’t have anything to prove to anyone, especially not myself.
And you may be right.
But I also know that we all have our battles to fight.
Battles about what we believe we deserve or not.
What we think we can do or not.
What we believe is possible for us or not.
What we desire.
Who we can be.
So while you might not be asking yourself why I write you something every day, I am asking myself which battles you are fighting.
I am looking for outward proof of your inner victories.
Whatever they are, when you shine a light on your invisible battles, I’ll be here to cheer you on.
We’re not able to see almost everything in life and are blind to only a couple of things.
We’re blind to almost everything in life and are able to see only a couple of things.
And of the things we are able to see, we (consciously or subconsciously) focus on an even smaller subset, and then turn a blind eye to the rest.
To live a creative life, there’s no need to create anything new.
Open your eyes, prick up your ears, smell the air, and feel the earth beneath your feet.
Then open your heart, taste your thoughts, sense subtle shifts, and heed the voice in your head.
When you marry your inner and outer world
insights unfurl.
The other day, I talked about changing your focus to change how you feel about the events in your day.
But something strange happened when I first had that realization.
It didn’t feel like a relief.
Do I even want that responsibility? To choose how events affect me?
After all, that would take away my right to complain about how poorly life treats me.
I couldn’t ascribe any successes or achievements to “sheer luck” anymore.
And wouldn’t it be silly to say I don’t deserve happiness, luck, or anything good if I knew I could change my focus and be lucky this very moment?
What a burden.
I’m still deciding if I am strong enough to carry it.
But one thing’s for sure: the days I have the presence of mind to direct my focus are the days I feel best.
I wonder if it’d be like that for you, too.
Maybe you could try it out? Even if it’s to indulge me.
See how it feels.
And let me know how it goes. I’m curious about you.
Some days I have ten ideas to write about. Some days, zero.
But when I lack ideas to write about, the ideas aren’t really gone. I’m in a scarcity state: my brain chemistry prevents me from accessing the insights.
When I feel lonely, friends and family I can connect with aren’t really gone. I’m in a scarcity state: my brain chemistry prevents me from connecting with them.
Scarcity is like pollution.
When noise pollution of cars, planes and construction machines drown out the singing of the birds, the birds aren’t really gone. I just can’t hear them.
When light pollution drowns out the stars, they’re not really gone. I just can’t see them.
So how do I get out of scarcity? How do I reduce pollution?
Here’s what works for me:
Notice I’m in scarcity mode. Then move. Meditate. Do stream-of-consciousness journaling.
Then find a place where I hear the birds.
Find a place where I can see the stars.
Write anyway.
And connect with friends and family anyway.
