You’re ahead of your time.
You’ll always be behind.
And you’re right where you’re supposed to be.
Writing, running, work, relationships… No matter how you feel today, these three statements are all true, all at the same time, for everything you do.
Now we’ve got that out of the way, you can continue to do the work.
To become consistent, you have to go beyond wanting. You have to need it.
It’s not about figuring out where you’d like to end up – it’s about deciding where you must go.
It’s about creating a driving force within yourself.
A commitment so strong that you can’t ignore it anymore.
Yesterday could have been a good time to start.
Tomorrow may be a good time to start.
But now is always the best time to start.
Wanting to improve certain areas in your life is powerful.
But that improvement gap comes with a pressure trap.
Because if you believe you’re in control of your actions, the moments you accidentally fall back into old patterns become extra frustrating.
When your self-worth becomes attached to your behavior, every action becomes a judgment of character.
And so the pressure mounts.
Missing one workout means you’re not worthy of running a marathon.
Missing one day of writing means you’ll never be a writer.
Making one communication mistake, making someone angry, means you’re a terrible person.
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To make that pressure bearable, build self-trust (for example, through Tiny Trust Builders).
Trust that you can run a marathon, even if you miss a workout.
Trust that you can be a writer, even if you miss one day of writing.
Trust that you can be a good person, even if you’ve made mistakes or upset some people.
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Notice the improvement gap between where you are and where you want to go.
Let the majority of your actions be a vote for the person you want to be.
Focus on elastic discipline, not hardliner habits.
Do all that, and you’ll feel more fulfilled and free.
If you can’t fully focus
You’ll never be able to fully relax
And if you can’t fully turn it on
You’ll never be able to fully turn it off
Language helps us describe the world we perceive. Yet in doing so, it closes our eyes, our ears, our touch, and our heart to the parts of the world we don’t have words for.
Every language is a lens on a felt reality within and around us – both clarifying and categorizing the world, and limiting it by the words it has available.
Learning more languages gives you new lenses – and a richer sense of reality.
But just like the structure of our ears limit the sounds we can hear, and the structure of our eyes limit colors we can see, the structure of any language somehow limits our felt experience of the world.
How do we re-access memories, emotions, hidden away in a long-forgotten language?
How do we re-learn to listen to the voices of the wordless world speaking to our animal self… the voices that once upon a time, before verbal language emerged, were all we had?
there’s an eternal song
drowned out by the confines of my mother tongue
a wordless melody that once made sense
until our brain started blurring it with a lens
narrowing it down
neglecting its nuances through verbs and nounswith all its might language wants us to abide
Lukas Van Vyve
but the wordless world it tries to hide
will forever be inside
I don’t care what I write.
I care that I write.
Because only once the daily act of writing isn’t in question anymore, can I start writing what matters.
