You can be a writer with spelling mistakes.
A language learning expert who is afraid of speaking a foreign language.
A psychologist who doesn’t always feel good.
A teacher who doesn’t have all the answers.
You can be anything.
And you’ll always be human.
Watching a sitcom or soap opera episode takes 20 minutes – and somehow, we always seem to find time for it.
Doing some stretches or a quick workout can take as little as 15 minutes – yet somehow, it’s very hard to find time for it.
Many good habits take take less time than watching a sitcom – and during and after, they’re often quite enjoyable. But our mind makes it so hard to start.
Whenever something that’s good for you feels insurmountable and your mind starts playing tricks on you, put it into perspective.
Doing this thing will take less time than watching a sitcom.
Maybe I could even do it while watching the sitcom.
And doing it will be a vote for the person I want to become.
It’s not possible for you to stop being a writer.
It’s only possible to forget you’re meant to be a writer.
Similary, you’ll never “turn into a writer”.
You reduce resistance until you’ve set free the writer in you.
For all the languages I’ve learned
trying in vain to put the inner and outer world into words
closely but not completely capturing the essence
I now realize the biggest insights reveal themselves
where words are worthless and feelings reign
where they are felt and lived, embodied,
refusing to be rationalized, categorized
or undergo the violent limitations of our words.
Maybe language learning is more about admitting that some languages are lived, not learned.
That some insights are felt, not expressed.
That sometimes words create distance from what we experience deep down, instead of offering the clarity we seek.
Accepting that may well be the biggest challenge of all.
There is a voice that doesn’t use words. Listen.
Rumi
Progress is a silent play, but it’s the whispers of daily practice that leads to the roars of fulfilment.
Even your “bad days” are stepping stones to a brighter “good day”.
Slow and steady.
More writing
More food
More money
More running
More friends
More experiences
It’s easier to be ready for more than to be ready for enough.
Why do you love writing, despite the fact that the act of writing is often a drag?
Why do you love running, despite the fact that the act of going for a run is often a chore?
Why do you love learning languages, despite the fact that the act of practicing is often riddled with frustration?
Why do you love it so much?
And wouldn’t it feel good to remind yourself of that love every day… so you make sure the love is there to stay?
