by admin | May 31, 2025 | Well-being
Let’s be honest for a second. How many times have you scrolled through social media, seen those perfectly curated “rise and grind” posts, and thought, “Why can’t I just be motivated like that?”
I get it. We’ve all been there, staring at our to-do lists, waiting for that magical burst of motivation to hit us like lightning. Spoiler alert: it rarely works that way.
Here’s the thing about motivation that nobody talks about
Motivation isn’t something that just happens to you. It’s not a personality trait you’re either born with or without. It’s actually something you can create, cultivate, and control. But first, you need to understand what motivation really is.
Think of motivation like a fire. You wouldn’t just sit in front of an empty fireplace waiting for flames to appear, right? You’d gather kindling, strike a match, and tend to it. Motivation works the same way.
So how do you actually create motivation?
Start ridiculously small. I’m talking embarrassingly small. Want to exercise? Start by putting on your workout clothes. Want to write? Open a document and write one sentence. The goal isn’t to complete the task perfectly – it’s to create momentum. Success breeds success, and even tiny wins count.
Connect to your why, but make it personal. Not the generic “I want to be successful” why. The real one. The one that makes you a little uncomfortable when you think about it. Maybe it’s proving something to yourself, or creating a different life for your kids, or simply refusing to settle for mediocrity. That discomfort? That’s where real motivation lives.
Create friction for the things you don’t want to do, and remove it for the things you do. Want to eat healthier? Don’t rely on willpower – remove the junk food from your house. Want to read more? Put the book on your pillow so you see it before bed. Design your environment to work with you, not against you.
Track your progress visually. There’s something powerful about seeing your progress mapped out. Whether it’s crossing days off a calendar, filling in a habit tracker, or just writing down three things you accomplished each day – make your progress visible.
Find your motivation style. Some people are motivated by competition, others by collaboration. Some need external accountability, others thrive on internal challenges. Some are motivated by avoiding pain, others by pursuing pleasure. There’s no right or wrong way – just your way.
The motivation myth that’s holding you back
Here’s what most people get wrong: they think motivation should feel good all the time. They think it’s supposed to be this constant state of excitement and energy. But real motivation often feels more like determination than excitement. It’s the quiet voice that says “I’m doing this anyway” when everything else is screaming to quit.
The most motivated people I know aren’t the ones bouncing off the walls with enthusiasm. They’re the ones who show up consistently, especially when they don’t feel like it.
Your motivation toolkit
Start with these three things this week:
- Pick one tiny habit and commit to it for seven days. Make it so small you can’t fail.
- Write down your real why – the one that makes you a little uncomfortable. Keep it somewhere you’ll see it daily.
- Design one small environmental change that makes a good habit easier or a bad habit harder.
But here’s what I really want you to know…
While motivation is incredibly important and absolutely something you can create, it’s not the endgame. It’s not your life’s purpose or your reason for being.
There’s something deeper, more sustainable, and more fulfilling than motivation alone. The Japanese have a word for it: Ikigai. And understanding the difference between motivation and your Ikigai might just change everything about how you approach your goals and your life.
Stay tuned – next week, I’m diving deep into why motivation isn’t your Ikigai, and what that means for creating a life that doesn’t just get you moving, but gets you moving in the right direction.
What’s your biggest motivation challenge right now? Drop a comment and let’s figure it out together.
by admin | Jan 29, 2025 | Mental health, Well-being, Wellness
A strange realization has been lingering in my mind for some time now—a recognition that most of my thoughts are not based on reality. Not really. They are based on my subjective experiences, a knowledge base constructed by me, not necessarily by truth.
I used to assume that what I thought must be, in some way, a reflection of reality. That my perceptions, opinions, and gut feelings had some validity simply because they existed within me. But I’ve come to see that most of what arises in my mind is just that—arising. Not from an objective, factual foundation but from a lifetime of conditioning, biases, and influences that I have absorbed without much scrutiny.
The Subjectivity of Thought
Most of my thoughts are automatic. They pop up without permission, shaped by my past experiences, the stories I’ve been told, and my adopted interpretations. But how many of those thoughts are true? How many are simply echoes of things I’ve heard or assumed rather than reflections of reality?
Even deeper, I must ask: what is “truth” anyway? So much of what I know—or instead, what I think I know—comes from human-made structures: books written by people with their own biases, cultural narratives shaped by power and historical convenience, and scientific theories that are constantly evolving. Even facts, in how we think of them, are subject to change when better tools or perspectives emerge.
If my thoughts arise from this shifting, subjective landscape, then how can I trust them?
The Mind as a Filter, Not a Mirror
I used to believe that my mind was a mirror of reality, reflecting things as they are. But now I see that it is more of a filter that distorts, colors, and reshapes everything it processes.
My thoughts are dark and cynical if I am in a bad mood. If I am happy, everything appears lighter and more hopeful. The same situation can feel entirely different based on my emotional state, my level of fatigue, or even what I ate that day. How can I trust my immediate thoughts when they are so easily swayed?
Even memory, something we tend to rely on as a source of truth, is deeply unreliable. Every time we recall something, we reshape it slightly, filtering it through who we are now rather than who we were then. The brain fills in gaps, alters details, and reinforces whatever narrative we already believe.
Living in a Constructed Reality
Beyond my own personal thoughts, the world I live in—the ideas I take for granted, the values I uphold, the rules I follow—are all human constructs. Money, laws, morality, social norms, identity itself… all are ideas that we, as a species, agreed upon.
I once thought knowledge was a ladder, something we climb to reach a higher, more objective understanding. But now, I see it more as a web—an interconnected mass of ideas, stories, and beliefs, none of which can ever be fully isolated from human subjectivity.
What Do I Do With This Awareness?
Where does that leave me if I cannot trust my thoughts? It would be easy to fall into nihilism, to say, “If nothing is certain, then nothing matters.” But instead, I see this realization as freeing.
It means I don’t have to take every thought seriously. Just because a thought arises does not mean it is true, meaningful, or worth engaging with. I can observe my mind with detachment, recognizing when it feeds me outdated beliefs, irrational fears, or baseless assumptions.
It also means I can be open to change. If my mind is not a fixed, reliable source of truth, then I do not have to be a slave to my past beliefs. I can question. I can unlearn. I can recognize that the reality I experience is not necessarily the reality and that there is always more to discover beyond my thinking.
I cannot trust my own thoughts. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe the real wisdom lies in trusting them and knowing when to let them go.
by admin | Dec 27, 2024 | AA
Mr. William G. Wilson
Alcoholics Anonymous
Box 459 Grand Central Station
New York 17, N.Y.
Dear Mr. Wilson,
Your letter has been very welcome indeed.
I had no news from Roland H. anymore and often wondered what has been his fate. Our conversation which he had adequately reported to you had an aspect of which he did not know. The reason, that I could not tell him everything, was that those days I had to be exceedingly careful of what I said. I had found out that I was misunderstood in every possible way. Thus I was very careful when I talked to Roland H. But what I really thought about, was the result of many experiences with men of his kind.
His craving for alcohol was the equivalent on a low level of the spiritual thirst of our being for wholeness, expressed in medieval language: the union with God.
How could one formulate such an insight in a language that is not misunderstood in our days?
The only right and legitimate way to such an experience is, that it happens to you in reality and it can only happen to you when you walk on a path, which leads you to a higher understanding. You might be led to that goal by an act of grace or through a personal and honest contact with friends, or through a higher education of the mind beyond the confines of mere rationalism. I see from your letter that Roland H. has chosen the second way, which was, under the circumstances, obviously the best one.
I am strongly convinced that the evil principle prevailing in this world, leads the unrecognized spiritual need into perdition, if it is not counteracted either by a real religious insight or by the protective wall of human community. An ordinary man, not protected by an action from above and isolated in society cannot resist the power of evil, which is called very aptly the Devil. But the use of such words arouse so many mistakes that one can only keep aloof from them as much as possible.
These are the reasons why I could not give a full and sufficient explanation to Roland H. but I am risking it with you because I conclude from your very decent and honest letter, that you have acquired a point of view above the misleading platitudes, one usually hears about alcoholism.
You see, Alcohol in Latin is “spiritus” and you use the same word for the highest religious experience as well as for the most depraving poison. The helpful formula therefore is: spiritus contra spiritum.
Thanking you again for your kind letter.
I remain yours sincerely,
C.G. Jung
by admin | Dec 24, 2024 | Holism
I truly enjoyed reading this, and it resonates so well. I may not require, expect, measure, opinionate, or judge. But the moment I question something, even what I believe can be good, I am starting to put myself in the way. Me needs to be out. And so, this is the beginning of letters. A project I’m beginning soon. With love…
It hit me during a quiet morning last week. The sun was barely up, painting the sky in those gentle colors that make everything look softer, more forgiving. I was thinking about my recent interactions—with you, my colleagues, even my neice—when that thought surfaced: how much of my responses to them were genuinely about them, and how much were just echoes of my own preconceptions, fears, and desires?
You see, I’ve always prided myself on being a good listener, an empathetic friend, a caring partner. But lately, I’ve begun to notice something unsettling. In conversations, while others are speaking, I’m often not really hearing them—I’m hearing my interpretation of them. I’m hearing the story I’ve already written about who they are, what they think, what they need.
“Let me put a little bit more of you, where there is still only me.”
The phrase came to me like a gentle awakening. It made me realize how often I fill spaces that should be reserved for understanding others with my own narratives, assumptions, and projections. When my friend tells me about their struggles, how quickly do I jump to comparing it to my own experiences? When my partner shares their dreams, how soon do I start reshaping them to fit into my vision of our future?
It’s not that sharing our own experiences or having personal reactions is wrong—it’s human, natural even. But there’s a difference between relating to someone and overwriting their reality with our own. It’s like I’ve been painting over other people’s canvases with my own colors, all while believing I was appreciating their art.
The most challenging part? Recognizing that this isn’t just about my relationships with others—it’s about my relationship with myself too. How much of who I think I am is actually me, and how much is a collection of responses to what I think others expect me to be? Sometimes I wonder if I’ve filled myself so completely with performances of who I should be that I’ve left little room for who I am.
This morning, I tried something different. When my neighbor stopped to chat about their garden, instead of immediately sharing my own gardening stories or offering advice, I just… listened. Really listened. Tried to understand their experience as uniquely theirs, not as a reflection or extension of my own. It felt strange at first, like learning to use a muscle I didn’t know I had. But in that space—that conscious, intentional space of truly hearing another person—something shifted.
The irony doesn’t escape me: that in trying to put more of others where there was only me, I might actually be discovering more of my authentic self. Because maybe the real me isn’t the collection of stories, reactions, and preconceptions I’ve built up over the years. Maybe the real me is the awareness that can observe all of that and choose, moment by moment, to make space for something new.
It’s a practice now, this gentle reminder: “Let me put a little bit more of you, where there is still only me.” In conversations, in relationships, in quiet moments alone. It’s about creating space—in my mind, in my heart, in my understanding of both myself and others. It’s about recognizing that every interaction is an opportunity to either reinforce the walls of my existing perspective or to open a window to something new.
This journey feels both unsettling and liberating. Unsettling because it means acknowledging how much of my perception of others has been filtered through my own needs and fears. Liberating because in making space for others to be truly themselves, I’m also making space for myself to be more authentic, more present, more real.
So here’s to the practice of making space. To catching ourselves in those moments when we’re about to fill the silence with our own noise. To the courage it takes to let others be fully themselves, even when—especially when—their truth doesn’t match our expectations. To putting a little bit more of you, where there has been only me.
by admin | Dec 24, 2024 | Lifestyle & Work
Have you ever noticed how some days seem to sparkle with possibility, while others feel like they’re wrapped in gray cellophane? The fascinating truth is that inspiration isn’t just about those rare lightning bolt moments—it’s about learning to spot the quiet invitations that life extends to us every single day, even when they’re wearing a convincing disguise as obstacles.
Think about your morning commute. Maybe there’s that one intersection where you always get stuck at the red light. Frustrating, right? But what if that red light is actually offering you a moment? A pause where you might notice the way morning light plays on the buildings, or how the person in the car next to you is singing their heart out to some unheard melody. These tiny moments of observation can spark creativity, curiosity, or simply a smile that changes the entire texture of your day.
The real magic happens when we start treating challenges as creative prompts rather than roadblocks. That difficult colleague who seems to push all your buttons? They might be unknowingly offering you an opportunity to practice patience in ways that will serve you in every relationship moving forward. The printer that jams right before an important meeting? Perhaps it’s an invitation to practice problem-solving under pressure, or better yet, to question whether that document really needed to be printed at all.
But here’s the key that many of us miss: we need to give these moments room to breathe. When we immediately react to challenges with frustration or resistance, we squeeze out all the space where inspiration could potentially bloom. It’s like trying to force a flower to grow by pulling on its stem—all we do is damage the very thing we’re trying to nurture.
Instead, try this: when you encounter something that feels like an obstacle, pause. Take three breaths. Ask yourself: “What might this moment be offering me?” Sometimes the answer will surprise you. That rainy day that cancelled your outdoor plans might lead you to discover a new hobby indoors. The delayed flight might connect you with a stranger whose story changes your perspective on something important.
The beautiful thing about this approach is that it turns every day into a treasure hunt. Suddenly, you’re not just going through your routine—you’re exploring, discovering, allowing yourself to be surprised by the ordinary. Each challenge becomes a potential doorway to something unexpected and wonderful.
Here’s a simple practice to get started: commit to finding one thing each day that sparks your curiosity or creativity. It doesn’t have to be grand or life-changing. Maybe it’s the way your coffee swirls in your cup, creating patterns that remind you of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. Perhaps it’s the sound of leaves rustling that inspires you to write a haiku. Or it could be a problem at work that pushes you to think in entirely new ways.
The key is to remain open and curious. When we approach life with gentle attention rather than rigid expectations, we create space for inspiration to find us. It’s about developing a kind of soft focus that allows us to see both the challenge and the opportunity it might be concealing.
Remember, inspiration often speaks in whispers, not shouts. It shows up in the spaces between our planned moments, in the gaps of our expectations, in the quiet corners of our daily routines. By learning to listen more carefully, to look more closely, and to remain open to the unexpected, we transform ordinary moments into extraordinary opportunities for growth and creativity.
So tomorrow morning, when you start your day, ask yourself: “What invitation might life be extending to me today?” Then watch as the ordinary begins to reveal its extraordinary potential, one small moment at a time.
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