I remember thinking, “What happens when I run out of ideas?” Committing to writing once a week meant at some point there would 200 posts, 2,000 posts, and so on.
I realized after a couple years, though, for as long as I was listening, the well didn’t run dry. When I committed to posting weekly it forced a discipline that required an open posture.
Now each week feels like I’m waiting to receive something. I’m not forcing myself to “come up with something.” I get to see. And week after week, a light bulb goes on, I know that’s the thing, and then I share it with you all.
It’s a practice of presence, and whatever discipline gets you there, I couldn’t recommend it more.
The listening, the anticipation, the waiting, the act of being aware...I believe it’s shielded me from the crushing weight of what can seem like the monotony of life.
Everything is interesting. Every interaction is meaningful. A bad experience just makes a great story. A mistake made is just a lesson learned and shared. Becoming a better observer makes you a more capable participant.
I do still have to clean the lens. It gets dirty, fogged, smudged. I wonder why I don’t feel like I’m growing, then I remember it’s a seeing problem. But I am at least now aware of the lens, and that’s been a surprising, unexpected benefit from writing these last few years.
Books I recommend: