After reading The War of Art by Steven Pressfield (of which I HIGHLY recommend to any and all creators) wisdom that, I had no prior words for came flooding over me like a rainstorm bestowed upon a dry desert. Pressfield examines Resistance; anything that prevents us from sitting down and doing our work, our craft. Resistance is “invisible, internal, insidious, impersonal, universal and fueled by fear.” It is felt and not seen, depicted in the people around us, manifested in procrastination, sex and victim-hood. Anyone who has ever felt unsatisfied, unhappiness or grave boredom in life has experienced Resistance due to an unwillingness to follow our truth of work for whatever the reason may be of that day. The book continues to divulge into the self proclaimed and life altering obstacles we all encounter and continues to decipher what distinguishes an ‘amateur’ from a ‘professional’ of any particular field. All in all, this book is pure gold and a swift kick in the ass that sheds blinding light on the real reasons why we Resist working on our thing.
What I have concluded by means of the beautiful catalyst that was The War of Art, is that for the majority of my life I have succumb to Resistance and overcoming its power will be a daily journey, to which I fully accept the endeavor of. As I sit in Hoboken’s little piece of coffee shop magic that is Bwe on Washington (thank you, Andy) my fingers dance across the keyboard with newfound realization in the simplicity of creation, so to speak; just sit down and create. I have, for the past 26 years, been an artist as I believe that I (and those alike) entered this world with creativity in some capacity spinning like disco balls around our inner workings that would later become more understandable. I have only magnetized toward the personal truth of Writing living as my particular craft within the past 10 or so years but I have always been an artist nonetheless. It runs through my blood as an intangible itch of needing to express myself, as most others in the sphere can resonate with.
When I first stepped into Writing and discovered my truth within it, I fumbled around for a few years attempting to uncover and develop the components of our relationship. As an umbrella concept, details aside, I identify as a Writer merely because of my loyalty to the craft. I am not such because I drink black coffee, or wear dark colored turtlenecks. I am not a writer because I prefer solitude over crowded bars, or marvel in the depth of Indie flicks and feel lustful shivers when certain words roll off tongues. I am not a writer because I enjoy a lipstick lined cigarette every now and again, or lock myself away from the World to indulge in fantasies; all of the cliche norms one can muster.
I am a writer because I sit down, I write and when I do … there is a magnificent force of lightheartedness that I feel (which I have now identified as overcoming Resistance) that indubitably fuels the energy to my life. When I allow the slithering snake of Resistance to win, I become bothered, irritable and unfocused. These things commonly manifest in my life as jealousy, cravings for sweets, picking apart my imperfections, impulsive cell-phone use and developing a quick fuse towards those around me with the only true healer to be clear to me, at this point; I am my whole self when I live my truth. I am the best friend, girlfriend, daughter and leader when I remain connected and consistent to my work so dammit, Pressfield, work I will!
*reference, The War of Art: Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles by Steven Pressfield*