My daily task is to write something. Anything.
I say anything, but internally I'm still telling myself it has to be "great" something.
It doesn't. The art of this is in it's doing, not it's intentions.
I'm reading The War of Art by Steven Pressfield and he talks about the almighty "Resistence" as the force of nature that be battle to get to the meaningful work in our lives, our purpose.
Resistence is the devil, basically. And it leads us astray with sweet words and promises of an easier, much luckier life than that of someone who's grinding it out like a pleb.
I can relate to that. A lot. When I'm kicking back without much care in the world I start to think of all the things I want and can do with my life, I'm suddenly motivated and clear-headed about what I need to do and head to my desk.
But as soon as I'm here I'm met with a huge wave of "can I really be bothered right now? maybe later? tomorrow even?". It's amazing how strong that force is.
That's the resistence Pressfield is talking about.
I've read the book before, but can't remember how to overcome this and I'm only up to the part of the book where he's listing all the various forms of Resistence like procrastination, addiction, being critical of others etc.
I don't have any great insights about this right now, at 6pm on a NZ public holiday, suffice to say it's worth a blog post even if it's to tick the "write something" task on my to-do list at this point in time.
And therein lies the Art of Resistence.
takes a bow ... heads for the door