In “[[drafts/A062一千天，能改变什么？|A062 What Can a Thousand Days Change?]]”, I just resolved to write daily for a thousand days, but today, two days later, I’m already not so keen on writing anymore 
I can come up with many reasons to stop updating:
- I had insomnia yesterday, so I’ll go to bed earlier today.
- I have exams coming up, so I’ll sleep early today.
- I just don’t want to write today, so I’ll sleep early.
- And so on and so forth.
But there are hundreds of excuses for giving up, and only one reason to persist—I simply must keep going. It has nothing to do with why I write, what I write, or whether anyone reads it; it only concerns myself.
To some extent, this can be called “stubbornness,” but this matter carries my self-acknowledgment:
- During my university life, I never won any awards. Was it because I didn’t want to get involved or because I was unwilling to put in effort? Let me try once; after winning the award, I realized—yes, I just didn’t want to get involved. It wasn’t that I lacked ability.
- My days are monotonous. Am I making progress? What main thread can I grasp in the repetitive daily grind? Then I challenge myself with a daily task. Often only when I write something do I feel my existence; I “live” again.
Today, I chatted with my friend 独孤辉 about a topic. In my own words: Maintaining self-awareness through practice is an important function of practice. It’s hard for me to maintain awareness in the muddled routine of daily life, but when typing and letting thoughts flow, I get a similar feeling. It’s not exactly like standing meditation (站桩) or qigong practice, but it allows me to be calm and relaxed, to enjoy the moment. I think this is also a form of practice.