A ‘One Percent’ Day

RDP : Change

I’m constantly on a quest to live more meaningfully and mindfully and to be honest, I’m not always successful at this. A lot of things get in the way. Then I found James Clear and reading Atomic Habits. I love some of the concepts he promotes. 

I particularly like this quote:

“Every action you take is a vote for the person you wish to become. No single instance will transform your beliefs, but as the votes build up, so does the evidence of your new identity.”

Clear also promotes, “If you can get 1% better each day ….” that really grabbed my attention. I always dream big but seemed to have forgotten along the way, one percent each day, can make a huge difference over time.

So each day I practice my one percent. It could be as simple as putting things back where they belong to reduce clutter, or the impulsive text I want to send someone that can cause misunderstanding. There’s a degree of pleasure in achieving the one percent each day and I look for those ‘votes’ to cast, to become the person I want to be.

One of the things I wanted to change about myself was the over cautiousness I practice when I’m in an isolated place. It is probably better to be safe than sorry I tell myself but there was one recent incident that gave me the opportunity to practice that particular day’s one percent. 

I was in Exmouth (some 1250 km or approx 800 miles north of Perth) and on the way to the airport I stopped at Pebble Beach. I love this beach for the bounty the tides bring in. 

There’s so much marine history in each pebble and I don’t think I’ve been more than a few feet along the beach, where every pebble is of interest to me.

Unfortunately, Exmouth seems to have more warning signs about dingoes in the area, than I ever recall. There have been incidents in the town, so I was wary as I turned off the main highway, and headed to the beach car park. In the car park I found a kombi van but no one was around. I sat in the car wondering if I should risk a walk when I heard the beautiful classic music. It didn’t come from the van. It sounded distant and in this place of isolation, and on a hot day, so out of place.

It was a moment of magic. I heard the siren song and went in search of it. When I stood still, the music had movement. It was close and then faded. I threw caution to the wind, dingoes forgotten, isolation forgotten, I had to find the music. Then in the distance I saw a speck that did not look like anything that belonged on the beach. I zoomed in.

Just along the seam of sea and sand, a dark speck. (If you expand this on the phone you will it too). To my utter delight it was a young man, possibly a backpacker judging from his kombi van, playing the most beautiful music on his violin. He was so lost in the beauty he was creating, he did not notice me. (It’s possible I was a speck on the beach for him too). But despite the distance, I felt I was intruding, so I turned and walked away.

I sat in the car for a few minutes to reflect. I am naturally wary of dogs having been bitten twice by them but dingoes are predators and dangerous. I realised I had talked down anxiety. ”What were the chances of dingoes being on an isolated beach of pebbles, when they have a better chance of finding food in the scrub, just a couple of kilometres away”.  I had overcome a moment of anxiety with reasoning. So I cast a vote that day. 

I am becoming who I want to be.

As always

a dawn bird