You’re on a lifelong journey, and it’ll be over before you know it.
Which doesn’t mean you’re in a rush.
After all, who’s to say that going slow and intentional won’t give you a longer life than rushing through the days to cram in as much as possible?
When I’m inspired, I write.
When I’m over the moon, I write.
When I’m frustrated, I write.
When I’m sad, I write.
When I’m angry, I write.
When I’m so overwhelmed I don’t want to do anything at all, I write.
Because when the tides of life get rough, a consistent practice is your life raft.
Writing, running, yoga, music, walking, gardening, knitting, dancing, singing, surfing…
You not only build trust in such habits and practices to achieve lofty goals but also – even more so – to fall back on when the going gets tough, and you need a beacon of stability to keep you afloat.
I don’t wake up every day in love with the prospect of writing a blog post.
But I do love that part of my identity is that I publish something every day.
By not publishing, I would lose that part of my identity and end up frustrated because I gave up something I enjoy. And that’s painful.
So I write.
The secret to sticking to your habits: make the pain of quitting bigger than the pain of getting over the resistance against doing what you know is good for you.
Because the pain of discipline is always easier to bear than the pain of regret.
I guess all I really want to say today is:
There’s something you’re doing great at.
There always is.
Can you see it?
656 days ago, I started writing 3 pages of stream-of-consciousness journaling a day.
That’s an inner dialogue of 1968 pages poured into piles of journals now safely stuffed away.
30 days ago, some of those thoughts started making their way to my blog.
I promised myself that if I made it to 30 daily posts in a row, I would start sharing them.
Today is the day, so here goes.
I’m sharing daily observations about language, language learning, memory, creativity, habits, discipline, the art of learning, tools for thought.
Lessons I’ve learned.
Insights I’ve earned.
Words I’ve heard.
Memories spurred.
Books I’ve read.
Poems flowing out of my heart and head.
No rules, no fixed topic, no niche, no marketing strategy.
Nothing but whatever’s on my mind.
I’ve learned a lot so far, but the most important insight: there’s power in publishing imperfect work.
Because if I allow myself to create something imperfect every day, I’m certain that someday the sum of all these imperfect creations will be something I’m proud of.
It’s liberating.
Maybe there’s liberating power in reading someone else’s imperfect work too.
I can’t wait to find out together with you.
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If you truly believe you can write every day – not that it is generally possible to write every day, but that YOU can write every day – you would be doing it already.
So if you’re not, ask yourself:
Do you believe YOU can write every day?
If not, why not?
Is it physically impossible for you to write something every day? A page, a paragraph, a sentence… a word?
Deep down, you know the answer to that question.
And now we’ve established you can write every day; what other excuses come up?
That the work won’t be good?
That the words won’t capture what you want to say?
That you’ll disappoint others?
That you’ll disappoint yourself?
Put words to your fears, then ask yourself: what would happen if they all came true?
Would that stop you from writing? Or would it liberate you?
Would you maybe be just fine?
What would it be like to have overcome your fears and still be writing anyway?
Only one way to find out…
Write. Every. Day.
All bad things happen all at once, and you keep going.
Slow and steady, one day at a time.
Nothing happens, and you keep going.
Slow and steady, one day at a time.
All good things happen all at once, and you keep going.
Slow and steady, one day at a time.
All the good things can’t happen if you don’t keep going when the bad things happen, and if you don’t keep going when nothing happens.
Slow and steady.
One day at a time.
