To become you want to be (but aren’t yet) you have to start doing what you want to do (but aren’t doing yet).
Who do you want to be?
Which actions would that person take?
The questions are simple. But the path is erratic.
And that’s okay.
As long as you ask them once in a while, you’re well on your way.
The ankle and foot complex contains 26 bones, 33 joints and over 100 muscles, tendons and ligaments.
Considering both feet, that makes a total of 52 bones, making up about a quarter of all bones found in the mature adult body.
https://3d4medical.com/blog/facts-about-feet
There are more nerve endings per square centimetre in the foot than any other part of the body.
https://www.simardfootclinic.com/feet-facts
A wealth of sensory information – suppressed by the padding in our shoes, orthotics – until we don’t sense anything anymore.
It’s like wearing safety ear muffs all day.
What was walking on this earth like, before we learned not to listen?
Muffled feet.
I like to journal in the morning.
But if I’d journal in the evening, this is what I’d ask myself:
“Were my actions today actions of the person I choose to be? Or were they actions of a person driven by old patterns, habits and limiting beliefs?”
“Did my actions bring me closer to where I choose to go? Or did they keep me stuck in a place I really don’t want to be anymore?”
“Did my actions make me feel good about myself? Or did they make me resent myself?”
What can I do differently tomorrow?
When you outsource your happiness, you’ll always be under stress.
Day 20 of my daily publishing experiment. What I’ve learned (or remembered) so far:
In short, a pattern I’ve observed many time in the past years is playing out again:
When I start defying my own excuses by taking action, no matter how small, my self-trust grows, my self-image shifts, and I become more of the person I want to be.
Which begs the question:
Where else am I frustrated, holding on to a static identity of the past that I could prove wrong by taking action?
Journaling question of the day: Why am I rushing?
Out of habit and automaticity – mindlessness caused by endless repetition?
Out of discomfort – I want to get out of this situation as soon as possible?
Out of impatience – I expect whatever comes next to be more interesting or riveting?
What would happen if I don’t rush this?
By interrupting the automaticity and slowing down, will I reopen my senses and discover new nuances?
By not rushing away from discomfort, will I discover everything is not as bad as I feared it would be?
By resisting impatience, can I become fascinated with whatever is happening right here, right now?
Passion is writing whenever you can.
Discipline is writing even when you can’t.
