Hi Love,

Discipline here

. I've always been good about staying committed to actions but not so good about verbally communicating consistently. I suppose it's because a core part of my identity is to be a doer and not a talker. As if we absolutely have to pick one or the other; people seem to gravitate towards one end of a spectrum and repel the other. Much like political parties. But the more I've thought about it, the more I've realized that people are far too complex to have large portions of their identity mapped onto any two dimensional spectrum. If anything, it's a way to cater to the systems of labels that we've found so convenient when trying to assess others.

Like we've said before, though, labels aren't for us. There's no reason I can't be a doer and a talker. So I'm choosing to be both, and that's a big part of the reason I'm writing. I know how important verbal communication is to you, so I'm making a conscious effort to meet you where you're at. Just like you've done for me by expressing that you're working on being better at communicating with consistent actions.

It's only when trying to explain how to create a mindset based around consistent actions that I realize how long it's been intuitive for me, as well as how utterly difficult it is to articulate to someone else. But when I dig past my intuitive feelings, I realize that I break everything down into groups of actions. In so many ways, life is just a series of actions grouped together by intentions. Ideally, the intentions have clear objectives and aren't predominantly driven by emotions.

When you shape intentions into a clear objective, you can imagine yourself standing on one side of a chasm. Where your objective is the other side of the chasm and intentions form two thin metal cables that are the supports of a yet-to-be-built bridge. Then actions represent the planks that will make up the bridge that allows you to cross the chasm. The planks must be laid one at a time in a straight line; there's no way around it.

When you first look across any chasm, especially one where you can barely see the other side, it will seem impossible. Often times so impossible that it feels comical to even consider building a bridge, let alone trying to estimate and budget for the number of planks it will take to get across. Regardless of feeling daunted, there's a universal truth that's an unextinguishable beacon of light-- if you lay enough planks, you will surely get to the other side. Now, it doesn't mean it will be easy, or that you won't have to sometimes learn new techniques to apply extra support that combats something like sagging, but it will be feasible nonetheless.

I think what stops most people is the consideration of the sheer number of actions needed to get to their objective. 'Surely I'm incapable of laying several thousand planks' is the thought that sucks them into a pit of inaction like a plush cushion of their favorite armchair. Mired by a lack of self confidence and an unwieldy number of actions in front of them, they comfort themselves by insisting that they didn't want to get to the objective that badly any way. Sadly, too many people get defeated in this way-- beating themselves mentally by thinking the wrong way about the bridge.

In the past, I know we've talked about personal objectives that we think would elevate ourselves while contributing to a healthier relationship. And we've gone as far as to make attempts at changing ourselves for the better, but many of them have fallen short. In these cases, we weren't in love enough with the future versions of ourselves that represented the other side of the change. In other words, the objective is the improved version ourself, and we have to love that future self so much that we're happy to lay as many planks as necessary for them. In fact, we grow to enjoy laying planks for the future self.

Now that I think about it, my love for my future self is my primary motivation for persisting through the challenges that come with tiresome self-improvement actions. I guess I would even go as far as to say that I have a relationship with my aspirational self. I'm pulling for them, and they're cheering me on as I lay planks. Not literally, of course, but personifying my future self makes it easier to love them, since we're generally much better at loving people than abstractions.

I know you're so capable of making any actions when you're probably motivated, so I hope this letter provides a clear path to consistently laying those planks.

See you on the other side, Discipline

Discipline