Today I am having to practice what Steven Pressfield describes so well in The War of Art: doing the work. Showing up, whether the feelings are there or not. To quote from the book: "I write only when inspiration strikes. Fortunately, it strikes every morning at nine o'clock sharp."
I started out gung-ho on this new piece, but am feeling rather mediocre about it now. I felt it started with so much potential and now I'm not even sure I really like it. But instead of giving into the temptation of concluding it looks like crap, or giving up altogether, I am plugging away. But it feels a bit like pulling teeth...I am having to MAKE myself do it and it's not very pleasant. Who likes discipline? Not me. But I like what discipline produces. So today, I am keeping at it.
And, wouldn't you know it, just after writing this paragraph I found a business card in my back pocket that I had totally forgotten about - don't know how long it's been in there or where I picked it up. But on the back, it said this:
A bit of synchronicity, I would say.
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