Push Ahead

Surge ahead. Push forward. Make something happen.

To do that I am going to write. And I am going to write something that may not go anywhere or have much meaning, but what I am going to do is push ahead to make something happen.

I have to push and push because something doesn't just happen out of nowhere, it means that I have to forge ahead and push on and on and on. I don't think that I can do it very well, but maybe I can. I can.

And so I will push and push. There is something to be said for pushing ahead. Something to be said for forging ahead when there seems to be no path in the way or the direction which I am heading. I see my goal, and so I push forward toward it.

I push. I move forward. I push and move forward. I take the time it takes to actually do something, this writing for instance. I am taking the time, but I am really taking it by the horns and making something happen.

Just by writing I am making something wonderful happen. It doesn't seem to be wonderful, but only time will tell for sure what is wonderful and what isn't. So I need to just forge ahead again and make myself a model of what I want to be.

What I want to be is a writer, a blogger, a contributor, a content creator. I can only do that by actually writing, blogging, contributing, creating content. That is what it takes to do what I want to do.

All this nonsense writing only gets me somewhere, and it takes time away from the positive writing that I could be doing, but that really isn't true, because what I am doing right now is positive writing. I can only get to the positive writing by getting rid of the nonsense. I have found that I can't really avoid the nonsense. I can't edit it out before hand or I will get nowhere. If I try to self-censor as I am going, I get nowhere, so it is better to just lay it all out there on the page and worry about editing out the shit parts later.

Tell the story.

I don't think I have a story to tell. But that is nonsense, I have a hell of a story to tell, I just need to tell it.

I have a spreadsheet started of ideas for writing an actual book, an actual novel, and how I could actually attempt to tackle that monumental task.

How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time. Just make it happen, go forward one bite at a time and make something happen little by little. There is so much to do, that sometimes I can't see the steps in front of me because I am looking up toward the top of Mt. Everest, instead of just focusing on the few feet of ground I have to cover in the next moment.

I just need to keep my head down and plug away. That is sort of what this writing is for. It is for writing practice, it is for starting something and ending something daily, and realizing that it can all add up to more than what I had imagined at the beginning.

Sometimes my perfectionism kills me though. I fear that what happens in reality will never be as good as what I have worked out in my mind, and so I don't try to make reality match my imagination. I don't try to forge ahead and make my own path and make something actually happen in reality, instead I stay in my brain, in my thoughts, and let things happen that way, which is to say that nothing happens.

Again, forge ahead, push ahead, make something happen. Push and push and make something out of nothing. There is always nothing, but there is not always something. So move ahead and make something of myself, make something of my surroundings. There is so much to be gained by living and working and making something happen. I only have to do it. And so I am writing furiously toward that end right now. I am writing as fast as my fingers can move in order to write something that has meaning and ability and shines some light on the human predicament.

What all that means I don't necessarily know. What I mean to say is, that I start to write, and by continuing to write and continuing to forge ahead, I am getting there. I am getting where? Where I want to go, where I need to get to.

Something More

Here I sit again waiting to create something, even while I am creating it. For some reason the perspiration doesn't seem as real as the inspiration, but at the same time, the perspiration is real in a different way.

Here is what I mean: When I sit down to write something, and I have no idea what to write, it is clear that I am forcing the issue. It is clear that I am only working toward the end of having written something at all. But that goal is clear cut and positive, because that is the only goal I can really have. If I sat down to write something profound, I may never write anything. So I leave the goal at seven hundred fifty words and try to write that many, come what may.

When I sit to write I am not visited by inspiration. Inspiration comes and goes. Perspiration is readily available at all times. I can always work. I can always write about nonsense at any time of the day or night. I can always move forward with the work. I can always push ahead in the writing.

Inspiration versus perspiration, which is more important? For me it is the perspiration, the act of writing at all, the act of creating something from nothing and letting the words flow onto the page. Inspiration helps greatly to produce more focused, cohesive and profound writing.

But at the same time, with dogged determination, it is possible to write something focused and cohesive, if not profound.

What is profundity anyway? Is it worth the time to try to get to the profound or at least the interesting? Yes. It is worth the time and the effort. But there is no guarantee I will actually get there when I sit down to write. That is okay. I say I would be content with not writing anything profound for the rest of my life. I think I would still write. I think I would still sit and write with perspiration dripping down my neck as I dive headlong into the next sentence.

Right there was a bit of inspiration. See? It comes visiting when I least expect it to. To me, inspiration is a sense of knowing what to say next, before I have even really thought it through completely. It is an extension of the primal spirit. Does such a thing exist, the primal spirit? I don't know. I am just making this up.

And see? The inspiration can leave just as fast as it came. There is no rhyme or reason to it at this point, but what I would like to do over the next few pages is to see if I can find inspiration's heartbeat and understand what leads it to stop by and visit for a while, what causes inspiration to visit, and what causes it to leave.

I know a bit about what causes it to leave: attention to it, inspiration itself, and not the work at hand. For me, inspiration comes along side me and works with me on whatever I am trying to accomplish. When I notice inspiration is there, it seems to glance at me and say "Now you know I am here, you don't need me anymore, or at least you think you don't. I will go on my way now."

And that is when inspiration glides away and leaves me to the work again, and it becomes more of a chore, more of a drudgery to actually get through. But again, I think I would be okay with the drudgery. For it's still writing after all, and that is quite enjoyable!

Onto the more exciting and provocative idea though, onto what causes inspiration to come at all, and when it does, what causes it to stay alongside me as I create something new?

What causes inspiration to visit is partially a sense of selflessness. It is not me, the person, the human, the great I, doing the work, it just so happens that I am working and trying to get something out. The less self-aware I am about it, the better. The more I can stay focused on the work, the more inspiration has a chance to come alongside the work and the working and send out a few positive vibes of energy toward me and the work.

Some people refer to this state as flow. A person is in flow when time ceases to exist, and there is just the work and the worker. But in reality, I think the worker disappears as well, and there is only the work left. That is flow. That is the visitation of inspiration. The worker and the self-consciousness that seems to inhabit every moment of our lives just dissolves and there is only the task before us.

I tend to get caught up in nuances and distracted by different things. Right now I have lost the path of inspiration again because I got side tracked, or rather, I sidetracked myself. I went off on a tangent about getting caught up in nuances. That is okay. It is a learning process. It is a learning process to understand how inspiration and perspiration work together to create flow, and how being in a state of flow can be the most productive state there is.

Two forks to follow: 1. Getting caught up in nuances 2. Being productive.

1. I got caught up in a nuance, and really I should replace the word nuance with detail or something like it. I get caught up in details that don't effect the entire over arching theme of what I am trying to write about. The detail that caught my attention at the end of the paragraph about the perspiration and the worker just dissolving was that maybe I wasn't defining flow in the correct way. Who cares?

2. Being productive is all the rage. The more I can get done, the more valuable I am. The more valuable I am, the more I can earn. The more I can earn, the better off I'll be. The better off I am, the more I can tend to my friends, family and hobbies. The more I can tend to my friends, family and hobbies, the happier I will be. So does being more productive make me happier?

I don't know the answer to that question. I have been kicking around the idea that it may not be the best thing to constantly improve yourself. I think I am just at a new comfortable stage with myself, and I am enjoying it, and taking the time to accept what is reality and what is new and true for me at this given time.

So, this has gone all over. But now I am coming back to perspiration. Some of what I have written today was inspired writing. I won't say it was profound, but it was definitely inspired, meaning, I felt inspired as I was writing it.

I never would have reached that inspired opportunity if I had not first decided that I would accept a full day's worth of writing that only consisted of nonsense, doggedly written down by the sweat of my brow. So in order to find inspiration, I have to show up and be willing to suck. I have to be willing to not make sense. I have to be okay with the fact that I won't make it past the level of hack at any time, past, present or future. I am okay with that. And because I am okay with that, I stand a chance to be a hack. Or maybe even something more.

Make Something Happen

Inertia. A force I touched on yesterday as well. I must first get past what is holding me back from taking action. That could be any of a myriad of things, but usually it is laziness, or lack of focus. I need merely to take the action of typing and the inertia goes away. I need also to maintain the typing and let the words come and flow as often and as fast as they can and will.

It is like catching a wisp or a wish on a windy day. It is better to stay still and wait until one comes by you, then quickly dart out and snatch it. While I am waiting, I am still in the act of catching a wish. It doesn't look like I am going anywhere or doing anything, but I am ready to pounce at the first possible chance.I can't sit by and wait, I have to take action. So maybe it is more like fishing, because I dip the bait in the water and wait. While I am waiting it again seems like I am taking no action, but in reality, I am fishing. I am doing the act of fishing for fish. It doesn't seem like much, but it is a great deal.

That is what writing is like for me. I am sitting and typing and waiting for something to happen, and usually something does happen. Something pops up out of nowhere and continues to happen as I type along with the rhythm of whatever has just popped up. There is a period of waiting in which I am not necessarily typing anything beneficial or profound, but I am still in there doing the writing itself, doing what needs to be done, whether or not inspiration is shining on me or not.

It is called working. I am working at writing whenever I type, and the more I type, the better chance I have of catching a wisp a wish or even a fish. The more I type the better my chances of landing a big one are. I can't expect to catch anything if I don't put the bait into the water.

Now something else that triggers something else is the fact that I need to show up to the page at all. I have to get to the water's edge and prepare myself for writing. I have to show up with myself, get my tools in order (my mind and my fingers) and prepare to step into the water. There are so many mixed metaphors right now it is hard to keep them straight. But that is okay. I will extricate them in the next paragraph.

So far in the past two days I have likened writing to surfing, catching a wish, and fishing.  Writing is all of those things. It is all of everything actually. Writing is a chance to reflect completely on what life is bringing me, what life is showing me, what I am experiencing, what I wish I were experiencing, and more.

Writing is life. Is that too much? Did I go too far? Yes. Writing is a piece of life, and merely a pale reflection of the grand possibilities and total reality of what life is. But writing is a form of communication that can be passed down through the generations, and spread among the people of the world and be understood by others in their own unique way, in the own unique lives.

In that regard, writing's reflection of life is vitally important, especially in this day and age, when almost everything is so fleeting and quickly past and obsolete. Writing remains important, at least important to me.

And so I will continue to write, and continue to share. But why do I want to share? Why do I want to share this portion of writing that really is not that profound or beneficial?

I want to share because art needs an audience, an idea I got from The View From the Studio Door by Ted Orland. I don't know whether my writing classifies as art, but it is a creation, so maybe it is art, in a rudimentary sense. Art needs an audience just like How to Kick needs a witness. Just like rosin needs the bow. Why does art need an audience? Because the viewer of the art is just as important to the work as the artist who produces it.

Today there are billions of viewers of art, and less creators of art. Are we running out of art? I don't think so. In fact, I think those silly memes that are created using block letters and a screen shot may classify as the new art. Taking two things and juxtaposing them so that there is something new can be a clever creation.

Do they count? I don't know.

I am getting lost again. But now I realize why that is, why I get lost. Because I am too far into my head, too far into the thinking that involves me reflecting on what I am writing and how it will be perceived by others.

The artist must keep the audience in mind, but the artist doesn't need to pander to the audience, give them what he or she thinks they want. Instead, go through the creation process and do the best you can. Create something you would want to see. Make something that nurtures your own creative spirit. Then present it to the world and see what happens.

Maybe nothing will happen. But then again, maybe something will happen.

Darkness and Light

A blank page yet again. Here I am. It is slow going, but that's okay. I am taking some time to write right now. I don't really know where it will lead, but that is kind of the fun of it. If it can be said to be fun at all. Which I think it can be, but a different kind of fun.

The time I spend writing needs to increase. That is for sure. It is acceptable where it is at right now, but I really need to work on prolifically producing my junk, so that I can create non junk as well. And it will take time and persistence. But if I don't show up at the page and actually try to work and produce something, it really won't work. And if it doesn't work it doesn't pay.

So now the only thing that I have to do is continue writing and let that come forward in the writing. Allow the expansion of time and growth to actually let the universe do its work. It only takes so long to do it. It only takes a little time to get into the groove. But it does take time. I can't just jump right in and make it happen. It takes time and energy and that is what it takes. Now what matters is really pushing along and making something happen. Now we have something to do.

There is no we. There is only me. And I have to sit tight and make this happen. That is one of the problems that I have, a little attention deficit disorder. Where I can't sit still long enough to create something of consequence, but then again I spend a whole weekend writing songs, relatively uninterrupted, focusing on the right things, making something happen, moving forward.

Now all I have to do is ride the wave. Once I am in the ocean, I only have to ride the waves. But the problem for me lies in getting into the ocean in the first place. That has long been my issue. Breaking inertia. I have a flow going now. It only takes the time it takes to enter the water, and the flow begins. But it is again that getting in the water that slows everything down. It only takes a moment, but that moment takes a while to get to. The reason it takes so long to get to is that I don't spend enough time actually making the time for anything, actually developing the trust and the presence of anything. Understanding why I am here and getting into the right rhythm are reasons for being here. I am losing myself in the words now. They are not making as much sense as I had hoped. Now I am merely fluctuating and learning all about the fluctuations of energy and the self doubt that possesses me and encourages me over and over again to give up.

But I am not giving up. I am pressing forward. I am trying to move from point A to point B. And I will get there. I will get to B. It has not been a straight line, nor will it ever be a straight line. It is just something that is.

I am me and I am here. This is what I am aware of. With my half closed eyes I will continue to create and try to come up with something unique and worthy of love and experience. I don't think I am reaching it at this juncture. It is merely taking my time from the start. And I feel like I am wasting time, wasting life, wasting what I am put here to do.

I am aware of time. I am aware of the plodding of time past the numbers. It takes time. It takes time and energy. And this was not the best result of that time and energy. But tomorrow may be different. Or even later today. My here has so much room for improvement. It doesn't take much to think about the future or the past or the present. What is happening is happening within me.

I am learning. I am slowly learning that I must just show up at the page. I must just move forward all the time. I must just improve on myself as often as I can. Continually in fact. That is the only way to move this position forward. To constantly be on the work for trying to improve and get better. What a waste this was. Worst writing in some time.

****************

And that is also okay. The worst writing has to come out so that the better writing can be illuminated.

As recently explained to me by an artist friend of mine, it is all lightness and dark, and only through the interplay between the two is the line ever seen.

Circles

Get up at the same time every day, or earlier, and make something wonderful happen. It doesn't have to seem wonderful, because it will always be wonderful no matter what it is.

There is energy here. There is energy there. What will I do next?

I read the book Art and Fear, and it was pretty good. I prefer Steven Pressfield's The War of Art, but I can appreciate much of what was stated in Art and Fear. There is something to be said about moving past the fear we have when it comes to art. It can be the fear of sharing, or it can be the fear of creating as well. There is so much fear, it is hard to quantify and qualify.

But at the end of the day what matters most to me is if I created or not. Yesterday I did not create. And I regret that. Not something I will be concerned about on my death bed, but something I am concerned about today.

And why didn't I create yesterday? Well, for starters I slept in until two in the afternoon. That was a remarkable feat of selfishness. But I guess I needed it? No, I don't think anyone needs over twelve hours of sleep. I guess I wanted it. And if I wanted over twelve hours of sleep, what does that say about me?

I will leave that question unanswered. At least on here. At least for now.

Not ready to reveal all that much right now. Not sure exactly what I would be revealing except for my motivations and inner workings. There is self-censorship at play here. Is that right? Is it right to censor myself as I write? Is it wrong? I don't know the answer to that.

That is okay though. What is important is that I continue to move my fingers across the keyboard, continue to type and experience things, censored or not.

So I did not create yesterday.... I should amend that a little bit, because I did create, if only a small amount, toward the book I will be forever writing. But I didn't count that, because I didn't publish it. I guess when I say, did I create, I really mean, did I share? Did I publish? Did I make something worth someone else's time? I didn't yesterday. And I can't say today that I did it either. But at least today I wrote something down that I intended to share, that I intended to publish.

And here it is, warts and all.

Now what is next? What comes after the fulfillment of the seven hundred fifty words that I have decided I want to type on my blog? What comes next?

What comes next is sharing the ideas, sharing the thoughts, sharing the excitement that wells up in my heart whenever I think about writing or creating music or art. What do I want to do? What do I want to do with myself?

I want to continue.

I want to carry on.

I want to move along the road.

I want to be seen.

I don't want to be stopped.

I want to live.

I want to love.

And so I will and I will and I will. What I have created today is nothing for the record books, but I am not writing for the record books, I am writing for you. And for myself. And I am trying my best to do right by us. I am trying my best to share and let myself be known to others, while learning about myself.

I am learning as I go. I am writing as I learn. It all happens at the same time. It is one and the same. This writing, this learning, this living, this loving, it all happens at once, there is no end to one and the beginning of another.

It is the wheel. The Wheel of Time. Haha.

In the meantime I will continue to write, and "continue to continue to pretend my life will never end."

What is next? What comes next?

A bunch of words, 'cause I haven't reached the limit yet. I haven't reached the end. I should keep that in mind in the future, reaching the end, and not reaching the end, and not reaching the end.

There is a circle that we all are a part of; we are each in, on or around it. It is part of us, and we are a part of it.

Annual Renewal Notice

Another blank page, another story to tell. What am I going to talk about today? I could talk about the book I am reading, Art and Fear by David Bayles and Ted Orland. Or I could talk about the Beatles song I am listening to, Because, from Abbey Road. Or I could talk about nothing at all.

What is important in this exercise is that I write at all. I created a blog a long time ago, with the idea that I would add all my creations to it, so that I would have a rolling container for all the creative endeavors I try to accomplish in my life. Well, somewhere along the way I became self-conscious of what I was trying to get done, and that has stymied my ability to create. I need to just forge ahead with what I am doing and let it go. 

I can release all expectations of what will come out of writing daily, or even writing music and creating art. It doesn't quite matter what the outcome is at this point. Maybe the outcome never will matter. What does matter is that I get down to the page and write, or put pen to paper and draw, or put my fingers on the frets and play. What happens after that is of little consequence. 

The more I am able to create the better. But at the same time, there is no required output or prolific level I need to attain. One thing I would like to do is write seven hundred fifty words per day on this blog. I think that is something I could accomplish. It may not be easy, but I could definitely do it. It would involve being ready to write as soon as I get up in the morning, and being willing to stay up later in the evening if I don't get it done first thing in the morning. 

But really, seven hundred fifty words is only about a half hour to forty-five minutes worth of my time, every day. I don't think that is nearly too much time to devote to my "craft."

After all, what am I really trying to accomplish here? I am trying to trace the arc of progress of a creative individual from the beginning to the end. It won't take too much time, it will only take the three D's: Diligence, Discipline and Determination.

If I can keep showing up, I can keep producing. I only need to get here (to the page) and I will be able to make something happen, or the universe or God will make something happen through me. That is the way it works. Show up and make something happen. 

I have been really enjoying this holiday break from work, being able to hang out and relax extensively with the family. It was great to get a new electric guitar to create and play with as well. It will be something I have for the rest of my life, and can pass down to my children should they ever become interested in playing the guitar. 

I find when I write, I am very self-conscious. I am very concerned about how what I write will be perceived by other people. I don't know why that is, but I am able to push past it, at least enough to keep writing. 

It is not really that I am concerned about how I am writing and that it may or may not make sense, but I am concerned with how my loved ones (who are the only ones I know of who read this) may interpret what I am writing. 

I guess a little proviso is in order then... It doesn't mean anything. Unless it does. 

That doesn't make much sense. 

That's okay.

Everything is okay.

Is it?

I think so.

What else do I want to do today? All sorts of things. I want to do all sorts of things today, but I think I will mainly relax and play. Those are good things to do, especially as the extended holiday break comes to an end. 

Now I am listening to What a Wonderful World as performed by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole. That was difficult to spell, but pleasant to listen to.

I still haven't really moved into the 2010's with my music yet. I still listen to my streaming library via Google Play Music. I don't subscribe to Spotify yet, though I have used it rather frequently lately. I still search YouTube for individual songs I want to listen to on demand. 

That's all for now. 

My New Speed

I have reached a new, strange place in my life. I am no longer looking forward to anything. I am no longer interested in anything either. I have come to an almost complete standstill. And yet, I am still alive. I am still living and going through the motions of my life.

My mind is almost completely devoid of thought, and my body rarely takes action. I am floating in the ether of reality.

It is an interesting and new place to be.

It is always a new and interesting place to be. I am always growing and evolving and learning and expanding.

But right now, it merely seems that I am floating.

Free of tethers and all expectations.

Why am I this way?

I have slowed down considerably. I do things with a deliberateness that I used never to employ. I am careful. Not wary, but full of care.

Even my typing and writing have slowed considerably. I do not type at a mad man's speed anymore, I merely write the words as they come.

I enjoy listening to music. I enjoy creating music.

I have been trying to write a book for the last 35 years. I have been unsuccessful. I am either not ready yet to write my book, or not qualified to write any book. I have become accepting of both possible scenarios. Only time will tell which one is accurate.

So this is my new speed. Slow. Deliberate. Careful.

I don't understand all the factors that have contributed to my new style, and I don't really care to.

I don't really care to do anything.

This all sounds rather depressing, but I don't think that it is. It is just new, and it is just reality. Taking things at face value. Not applying any spin to anything.

How can the slowness of this pace, the glacial meandering and expanding of my life, be part of this rapidly changing and moving 21st century?

I am behind the times, but I left the times behind long ago.

I am at once ahead of, behind and with the steady growth and expansion of the universe.

Best to be with it.

Best to be part of it. Best to be enjoying myself.