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Matt Hogan's Blog Posts

Share Your Art. Even When (Especially When) It’s Not Perfect

“My life has been my music, it’s always come first, but the music ain’t worth nothing if you can’t lay it on the public.”

Louis Armstrong, via MoveMe Quotes

Artists look at their paintings and think: Ugh, those strokes.

Writers read their paragraphs and think: Ugh, those words.

Actors watch their performances and think: Ugh, those scenes.

The people those gifts weren’t intended for think: Ugh, why this?

The people those gifts were intended for think: Wow, thank you for this.

The people who never receive your gifts think: …

Well… nothing at all—what they see instead is an unexpressed, mysterious, doubt-filled person.

And what a poor replacement for what could have been a gift to the world.

Share your art.

Not when you look at your art and think: Wow, that’s perfect.

But, when you look at your art and think: Ugh, it’s not perfect, but it’s damn good.

Because sharing your art is how you share your self.

And who you are is an imperfect, ever-changing, highly-emotional being—

—Who is putting a fragment of themself out into the world as a gift.

A gift that says I’m human—maybe you’re human, too, and we can connect over this fragment?

Not everyone will. But, the ones who do?

The ones who do will change your thought processes; your direction; your art; your life.

And maybe your gifts will do the same for them.

We Are Not Strangers

“What if it turns out way better than you could have imagined?”

Unknown, via MoveMe Quotes

We are not strangers. We simply haven’t gotten to know each other yet. Think about how much of what makes up the other is already known. Happiness and sadness; joy and anger; patience and annoyance; presence and grief; love and hate—we all have these elements inside and, relatively speaking, we understand them.

What’s unknown, however, is the other person’s composition of those elements which makes them uniquely who they are. To what extent do they experience happiness versus sadness? How much do they express joy versus anger? Are they someone who is understanding or someone who is close-minded? And so forth.

And how to better understand another person’s composition? By understanding the stories that shaped their composition. And how to better understand their stories? By understanding, not just the raw events of their life, but by understanding their perception of the events that happened to them that became the stories of their life.

If perception is reality, then understanding another person’s perception is the key to understanding their reality.

Understanding happiness is a notable task—but it won’t explain a stranger’s smile. Understanding sadness is a worthy pursuit—but it won’t explain another person’s sadness. Understanding love is remarkably important—but it won’t explain another person’s love life.

What’s missing from the static examination of a singular element (like happiness) is a view of the bigger picture at play that is the dynamic interplay between all of a person’s elements. And one of the most powerful ways to obtain that dynamic interplay is through dynamic, perception-sharing interactions.

Or, more simply stated, by asking and answering interesting questions. For what are questions but the ultimate tool for obtaining another person’s perceptions? How better to open the compartments of another person’s mind than by using the precise key that opens that compartment?

  • How are you, really?
  • What makes you nervous?
  • Is there a feeling you miss?
  • What keeps you up at night?
  • Who in your life brings you the most joy? Why?
  • What life lesson took you the longest to learn? Unlearn?
  • What are the three most important things in life to you?
  • Are there any songs that always bring a tear to your eye?
  • What do you regret not doing/ starting when you were younger?
  • Who has had the biggest impact on the person you have become?

If you view everyone around you as a stranger, then maybe you’re just not asking enough (the right) questions. We are all fundamentally composed of the same matter. We all have fundamentally the same feelings. We all wish to experience fundamentally the same things. It all is just unevenly distributed and uniquely interpreted.

The person who sees this, sees a world filled with more potential friends than strangers—they just haven’t taken the time to confirm it yet.

The Sacred Responsibility Of Storytelling

“Know someone as much as you can.  Hold onto the moments that define them.  Then when their body leaves, they won’t.”

Iain Thomas, via MoveMe Quotes

For a story to be told, there needs to be a storyteller. Even the most fantastical, awe-inspiring stories get forgotten when nobody remembers to tell it. Each of us holds a sacred responsibility to the other: to be the storytellers of each other’s lives. Or, said differently, we are the bearers of each other’s legacies.

We choose every day what stories to read, what stories to listen to, what stories to seek out, and what stories to share. The books that we read and don’t read; the conversations that we have and don’t have; and the sides of our own story that we share and don’t share—all make up the interconnected webbing of stories that thread their way through our minds and the minds of those around us.

When somebody passes away—when their body leaves—what’s left behind isn’t their story, it’s what’s remembered of their story. If nothing was ever shared of a person’s story, how can there be a story to tell? The knowledge of the story needs to be passed from one person to the other in order for that to happen.

Many people think their story is comprised of accomplishments, accolades, milestones, and status markers. But those elements rarely make for a good story. What makes for a good story is emotion—what that person was like while they were accomplishing; how they treated those around them in spite of the accolades; how they prioritized their time while they hit milestones; and what made that person authentically them regardless of any status markers.

We care about emotion because emotion is what makes us human. Emotion is what says, “Oh, you’ve felt that way too?” “I understand what you’re going through because I’ve been there.” “This is what being human has been like for me—maybe it can help you figure this human thing out, too.”

Stories are like emotional roadmaps given from one person to another. Some are incredibly helpful. Some are irrelevant. Some are life changing. And some are forgotten. But, one thing is for sure—we’ll never know a story’s impact if we never hear it. And we’ll never know our story’s impact if we never share it.

Know someone as much as you can—read their books; listen to their stories; seek out conversations with them; ask interesting questions; and soak in all that they’re trying to share. Hold onto the moments that define them. And maybe they’ll do the same for you. This way, when their body leaves—they won’t. And when your body leaves—you won’t either.


This post became the introduction for: 28 Timeless Morrie Schwartz Quotes from Tuesdays With Morrie

Self-Limiting Beliefs Are Self Installed

“Argue for your limitations, and sure enough, they’re yours.”

Richard Bach, via MoveMe Quotes

Ridiculous to think we would ever do that, eh?

And yet, so many of us do exactly that  every day.

We adopt limiting self-beliefs, cozy up to comfortable boundaries, enclose ourselves within sturdy walls, and install glass ceilings right over our own heads.

We literally are the architects of the very ‘box’ that we keep telling ourselves we want to think and break outside of. Why do we do this?

I remember telling my dad when I was a teen that I started a new workout routine: Westside for Skinny Bastards—a program designed to help ‘Hardgainers’ build muscle.

Without much thought, I added that I wasn’t going to try to become a body-builder or anything, that I would just use it as supplemental training for Martial Arts. And, without hesitation he replied, “Why not?”

I had to do a double-take to see if he was joking—he was serious. “Why not try to become a body builder?” He asked again.

My answer felt obvious: “I don’t have the body to be a body builder,” “I don’t have enough time to devote to lifting,” “I would never be able to beat some of the huge guys already in the scene.” I was, in effect, arguing my limitations.

When I look back at that moment now, I can see how one argument at a time, I was building myself into my own little ‘limitation box.’ How, one excuse at a time I was closing doors to rooms I hadn’t even peered into. How, one criticism at a time, I was shrinking my world to fit how I felt.

And I wonder how many other things I’ve walled myself up from?

Things that, for one reason or another, I decided I “couldn’t” do. Things that, as a result of something someone said to me or criticized me about, I never even ended up trying. Things that, because of how I saw myself in the mirror or, maybe better said, how I was taught to see myself in the mirror (by media and society)—I closed myself off to.

And I wonder the same for you?

Adventures > Chores

“I don’t hold myself to longer hours; if I did, I wouldn’t gain by it. The only reason I write is because it interests me more than any other activity I’ve ever found. I like riding, going to operas and concerts, travel in the west; but on the whole writing interests me more than anything else. If I made a chore of it, my enthusiasm would die. I make it an adventure every day. I get more entertainment from it than any I could buy, except the privilege of hearing a few great musicians and singers. To listen to them interests me as much as a good morning’s work.”

Willa Cather, via MoveMe Quotes

If I was given the assignment of having to write a short-form essay every day for 423 days, I would call the assigner crazy. I would dread it. I probably wouldn’t make it past a week, let alone finish it. It’s how I felt whenever I was given a writing assignment in school.

While they were certainly effective at doing what they intended to do, there was still a palpable disconnect in how I felt about them. They weren’t organic to me. They weren’t self-driven explorations. They weren’t internally motivated. They were for a grade. They were rigid and formal. They were chores.

When I decided to write a few paragraphs about a quote every day starting on January 1st, 2020, it was like I was setting out on an adventure. I did it because I wanted to become a better writer. I did it because I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it for an entire year. I did it because I wanted to overcome the imposter syndrome I struggled with. I did it because I knew that if I wanted to become a serious writer, I would have to commit to a serious schedule.

And what a ride it has been.

Writing, for me, is one of the ultimate puzzles. There are over 170,000 words in the english language. And to spare both you and I some pretty ridiculous math, there are approximately an infinite number of ways those words can be combined into sentences, paragraphs, chapters, blogs, articles, and books—infinite.

And what fascinates me the most, is that within that mountain of words, lies the keys to understanding. Understanding people. Understanding places. Understanding things. Understanding ideas. And, most importantly, understanding ourselves. You just have to begin your adventure into the mountain on your own terms. And it will never be a chore.

Care For The Big Picture By Caring For The Small Details

“When you pay attention to detail, the big picture will take care of itself.”

George St-Pierre, via MoveMe Quotes

In Martial Arts, the direction of your toes—matters. The placement of your hands—matters. The distribution of your weight—matters. Even the height of your shoulders, the tilt of your head, and the squint of your eyes—matters.

Of course, the general coordination of the move matters, too, but it’s precisely the above mentioned details—the fine motor adjustments—that puts the “Art” in “Martial.” It’s the great divide between what makes “okay” and what makes “great.”

What separates an amateur punch from a professional punch isn’t their ability to quickly extend their hand from their face to a target and back—it’s how the details were minded in the process.

As is the case with basketball dribbles, hockey slap-shots, football throws, etc.—details are what separate beginners from masters and amateurs from pros. Anybody can dribble—few dribble professionally. And the same is true in how things are done in any sport.

But, attention to detail isn’t just activity specific.

The way you do anything is how you do everything. Attention to detail is a character trait that some choose to develop.

It’s a careful awareness. It’s a trained devotion to excellence. It’s the rigorous loyalty to the minutiae. It’s a deliberate decision to improve—beyond where most people stop. It’s a drive for inches when most people park after miles. It’s not for the faint of heart. It’s not for the preoccupied. It’s not for the careless.

It’s for the people who choose to be passionate, focused, and committed to paying details the attention they require—in any and every chosen task. It’s why attention is paid and not granted.

And it’s why masterpieces are so valuable—because they’ve been paid for in attention, energy, effort—details—many times over. Details that others find too expensive to pay. Details that, bring the big picture to life. Details that, when removed, would leave masterpieces as just pieces.

Warning: Waiting For Inspiration Can Backfire

“I’ve never believed that one should wait until one is inspired because I think that the pleasures of not writing are so great that if you ever start indulging them you will never write again.”

John Updike, via MoveMe Quotes

TicTok terrifies me. The first time I downloaded and opened the app, I lost an hour of my life in what felt like the blink of an eye—with all due respect to the creators. The pleasures of indulging in the app were so great that it felt like I lost consciousness and all sense of time. I haven’t opened the app since.

The same goes for video games. I tend to harbor an “all-in” type of personality. And when something captures my attention, it’s given my full and undivided attention. At one point in time, many years ago, I was “all-in” on video games. I once faked being sick so that I could skip school and play a new role-playing game (RPG) that I just got. I played for 16 hours straight, had Inception-type nightmares (that felt like they lasted years), woke up drenched in sweat, and quit—cold-turkey—immediately after. I haven’t played since.

Netflix even makes me nervous. The TV series that are available in today’s world, on-demand, are just too damn good. They’re literally designed to make you want to binge and they do a frighteningly good job at it. Each episode is exquisitely crafted to lead you right to the next and they only give you a few seconds to opt out of auto-play—RIGHT AFTER THEY LEAVE YOU AT A CLIFF. It’s preposterous. It’s brilliant. It’s why I keep my distance and only stream once (okay, sometimes twice) a week.

What scares me isn’t the act itself. It’s okay to TicTok, game out, and stream occasionally. What scares me is how easily time is lost to those outlets and how, if not careful, I could see myself losing a ton more time in a not-so-occasional way.

An hour in the blink of an eye? Is that really how I want to spend my hours? 16 hours straight without a break? I literally didn’t do anything else that day—not a single thing that contributed to myself or others. Binging an entire series? What about putting to words the series of my life?

My fear is that if I give these platforms an inch, they’ll take a mile—and it’s just not how I want to spend the miles of my life.