After a few weeks away from LinkedIn while I was limiting screen time because of my eye, I found myself wondering how to begin again.
It wasn’t that I’d forgotten how to write. I’d simply lost the rhythm I’d fallen into.
As I was thinking about it, I noticed the picture I had of momentum. It looked like pushing a huge rock. Hard work to get moving. Easier once it was rolling. Eventually you’d reach the downhill part where gravity would take over.
I’d carried that picture around for years without really noticing it. Momentum was something you earned by pushing through the hard bit first.
Then another thought arrived.
What if momentum could be gentle, even at the beginning?
Rather than committing to posting forever or trying to build the perfect habit, I decided I’d write one post a day for seven days.
Why seven?
Honestly, I don’t know.
I considered five. I considered thirty. Neither felt quite right. Seven did.
Of course, my mind wanted to jump in and figure out the best length of time. The one that’d form a habit. The one that’d have the biggest impact.
But I was making this up. Seven felt right, and that seemed enough.
Then I realised something else. If I wanted this to feel gentle, perhaps I also needed to let go of judging how it was going.
So I gave myself one rule.
Any opinion I have about the challenge doesn’t count.
If I miss a day, I’m not allowed to make that mean anything. If I write every day, I’m not allowed to make that mean anything either.
For seven days, I simply get to show up, write if I write, and notice what I notice.
The more I sat with it, the more I realised this wasn’t really about writing LinkedIn posts.
How often do we make beginnings heavier than they need to be? How often do we spend more energy trying to find the perfect way to start than simply taking the next step? And how often do we begin judging ourselves before we’ve even had chance to find our feet?
I’m beginning to wonder whether momentum has less to do with pushing harder than we’ve imagined. Maybe sometimes it begins the moment we stop arguing with ourselves and simply take the next step.
Whether I write seven posts or not almost feels beside the point now.
From this side of the little game I’ve set up for myself, that’s what gentle momentum feels like.
If you’d like to keep the conversation going,
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Kettle on. No rush.
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