Listen, I know how hard it is.
To get started. To make it work. To show up every day. To make money doing it.
To be a ‘success.’
You haven’t got your shit sorted yet.
I know.
You need to fix yourself first.
You need to love yourself before you can go out and be of service to anyone else.
You need to get your head straight.
You need a few more sessions of therapy to wrap your head around why Malcolm was mean to you in physics class back in ’89.
Then you’ll get back to me.
Then you’ll get your act together to do that thing.
To write that book.
To teach that class.
To start that business.
To launch that podcast.
To move abroad to be a digital nomad.
To freelance.
To be an entrepreneur.
To publish that first vlog.
You just need a little more time to figure out how to do it; to fix the parts of you that aren’t working, and feel a bit better about yourself before you start.
I get it.
But let me just get a word in.
The only ‘fixing’ that has worked for me was seeing that I cannot be ‘fixed.’
I can’t make right what seems wrong with me.
I can only forgive, and I can only redirect my focus.
Know that you and others can be stupid, dumb, blind and capable of evil.
That’s the way it is.
Forgive yourself and others quickly.
And then focus on how you can move.
Move.
Doing that thing is the only fixing you can do.
. . .
To be a writer who makes money you must do the kinds of things that a writer who makes money does.
The writing is the fixing.
To be a podcaster, you must do as a podcaster does.
The podcasting is the fixing.
To be an artist who makes money, you don’t get your head straight first. Heck, you don’t need to go out and be formally educated these days either. You just go out and do the things that an artist who makes money does.
The painting for money is the fixing.
To be a dancer, you must do what a dancer does.
The dancing is the fixing.
Your ‘getting back to me’ is only prolonging the time spent before the doing.
Perhaps you will be too old to start later.
So do the thing.
The perfect moment is the second you act — and feel supremely weird and stupid doing it.
That is perfect.
It is the moment you decide — and hating yourself for it.
This is the perfect moment.
It is the moment you realise you can’t be fixed.
You can only do.
That is perfection.
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