So your first blog is still waiting to be posted.
It’s there on your computer, or still in your head.
You kinda know what it’s about, or it might even be complete.
But you’re not ready yet.
Still waiting for the doubts in your head to clear.
‘What if it’s not good enough?’
‘Who am I to write such and such about such and such?’
‘What if my first one doesn’t have an impact?’
‘What if nobody responds?’
‘What if people don’t care?!’
Well, let me enlighten you (so we can get this over with):
There are a gazillion blogs and articles and videos and musings out there, and more and more and even more is coming every single day, and the people who create them all think they have something important or insightful to share.
But there’s just too much stuff out there.
Too much stuff, too little time and attention.
Well, if you want to blog or vlog or cast, if you think you have something to say about something: do it.
Don’t wait for the right time or the right equipment or the right skills or the right platform, don’t expect the results to be huge and don’t even expect them to be small.
You HAVE to learn to create for the sake of creating, for what it teaches YOU about life, for the sheer fun of making stuff out of nothing, for the energy of creation.
You have to learn to love your own voice.
Writing -and sharing stuff in general- has got to become a habit, something you do because you simply love doing it, because it makes you feel alive and in service of your own exploration, your own wonder, your own unfolding.
You’ll have to be the unconditional creator.
You GOT to find a way to create for you, to JUST produce, because that is the only sustainable way to keep doing it, because it will keep you independent.
And if you learn to forget about the results and the likes and the money and the eyeballs and the worldwide appreciation, if you forget about the pressure of being impactful, you’ll eventually create stuff that is really, really you.
Not born from fear or expectation or a deep wish to be admired, but from realness, from directness, from curiosity and openness and pure potential.
And when you stop caring about the idea that people have to care, maybe somewhere along the line (and this is one of these awful paradoxes in life), people will be truly drawn to your stuff, and start to care anyway.
Because you stopped making a big thing out of it, trying to look like something or someone or getting somewhere.
Because you learned how to make things that smell like you, and that by itself inspires you.
Get to know your voice.
Learn to use it, trust it.
Learn to love it.
Start there, do that, and keep doing it.
The rest is optional.
(Photo by @thommilkovic, for Unsplash)