What Do I Know About Anything

So there is this feeling that keeps hitting me in the gut.

It’s relentless. And as consistent as a clock.

It thumps on and on about how I don’t know anything about writing books or good pitches or building relationships. Of course this loud voice is not satasfied with all of that noise. It moves on to how I’m bad at marriage. I’m bad at music. I’m bad at eating cereal. And it’s completely ridiculous.

Everyone knows¬†something. It’s completely impossible to not know something about something. I mean really, you’d have to walk around this world TRYING to not learn things, and even then you’d learn how to not learn things.

I think it’s easy to give in to this voice. And I think some small part of all of us has it hiding there beneath the surface. The harder thing is to ignore it, or better yet, to listen to the still small voice telling you that you do know something.

Maybe I’m not making any sense.

Maybe making sense isn’t the point. So instead I’ll just say what I’m failing to say.

I don’t care what industry you’re struggling to participate in. I don’t care if you want to be a famous musician or author or actor or poet or producer of film or music or television shows. If you’re trying – if you’re working at your goals in any way – then ignore that voice telling you that you’ve learned nothing. Because it’s garbage.

You don’t need garbage. It’s not good for you. It won’t help you. And the sooner you ditch it, the sooner you ignore every internal and external voice that wants so badly to tell you what you are and what you aren’t, the sooner you’ll see that you are every bit the poet, the actor, the producer, the musician, the writer that you want to be.

You are beautifully and wonderfully made.

Go do that instead. And I’ll do the same.

 

 

 

 

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