Stare a lot.
Stare a lot.
We’re a slave to our own minds. What we think ultimately determines our experience of the world.
If we’re too fearful, we second guess ourselves multiple times, so we end up with nothing. We think too heavily of a circumstance—when it’s not really a problem—we tend to lose sight of opportunities we could have explored have we not been worrying.
Our mind is powerful. It cushions instincts which can guide us to possibilities. If we listen intently to our inner compass, to things that genuinely draw us in, and if we care enough to explore these examined impulses, then we can begin to lay most of our worries on the table. Worries become possibilities.
“Or can one thus open his door to poverty, or hold the curb on his pleasures, or contemplate the endurance of pain? He who ponders these things in his heart is indeed full of joy; but it is not a cheerful joy. It is just this joy, however, of which I would have you become the owner; for it will never fail you when once you have found its source.”
It makes me think that joy is a solid, unwavering spirit in our life. We need not an external stimulus to attest to our joy because we engulf and embody it every day. It emanates from a content soul.
You can recreate it in reverie. Continue hoping for the better. Find the big thing in the net, seminal book and wondrous mentors. Have it verified by those who sincerely adore you.
But the road map is with you alone. No one really cares but us paving the road.
We’ll come up with really bad ideas, pitch ourselves terribly, and come home ignored—blunders will be everywhere.
We can choose to rant and be paralyzed. But it must not take too long. We can pitch again with a new strategy and create new paths.
That’s the point of trying: to fail. It becomes our fuel to try again when the world says “not yet.”
And it’s beautiful because in short a lifetime we keep trying, with so much enthusiasm and annoyance. And we don’t insult ourselves for having pleased that revolution in our hearts.
We lean a great deal to our habits and routines—it’s safe to say we’ll keep doing the same things for quite some time. And no doubt it’s really helpful to automate getting the same cup of coffee or cooking eggs in the morning because it makes one’s day unencumbered.
But the same things can lose their luster. And the predictable is easy to forget; it’s unlikely to remember the details we did days ago.
It’s not to say we can’t stay on the same thread. But we can create new variables, a fresh perspective, and a renewed vigor. Remember the time when you’re a kid? You still wanted to play games. But you can’t keep playing the same game. It’s more enjoyable to bend the rules or discover another game.
And choosing just that, tweaking a rather old game, or making new paths, can make an experience lustrous enough to keep shining at a distance.
There is this transformation when you decide to committing yourself to doing the thing you love. You used to be passive: Let it be picked up whenever because there’s time.
Then you realize it’s only now if it really matters.
Now you get to participate with yourself. And you start to see the beautiful specks because you care.