Steven Pressfield's Blog, page 10

“Leave your problems outside”

My great friend and mentor (and also my first boss), David Leddick, spent several years as a ballet dancer with the Metropolitan Opera. David trained with a celebrated teacher named Margaret Craske.

David Leddick in Metropolitan days

Here’s what he wrote in his book, I’m Not For Everyone. Neither Are You.

I studied ballet at the old Metropolitan Opera when Antony Tudor, the famous choreographer, was the head of the ballet school. In fact, Margaret Craske was the teacher most students considered to be more important.  She had danced with Pavlova in the ’20s. 

Miss Craske instructed us: “Leave your problems outside the classroom.”

Such good advice. And in that hour and a half of intense concentration on every part of your body, the music, the coordinating with other dancers—you really couldn’t think about your troubles and it was great escaping them. You emerged much more relaxed and self-confident.

We worked hard. We never had a sick day. You went on even if you had to lie down in the wings until you were needed. No one thought this was unusual. 

At the Met, the powers that be were only interested in two things: how well you sang and how well you danced. Your race didn’t count, your background, sexual preferences, family, none of that mattered. You had to deliver.  That was the sole standard. It was great.

In later careers, all of this has stood me in good stead. I never had to work that hard in any of the various worlds I entered. I knew the quality of the work I was doing. Dancing at the Met was a wonderful experience and a wonderful preparation for the rest of my life.

When we say, “A practice has a space and that space is sacred,” this is what we mean.

We leave our problems outside.

We leave our egos outside. (We enter with aspiration and intention but not with ego.)

We leave our attachment to outcomes outside.

A practice has a space… and that space is sacred.

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A Practice Has a Space

Have you ever seen the books (and magazine) Where Women Create by Jo Packham? They’re prose-and-photo shoutouts to craftspersons—all female.

The books’ and magazines’ huge kick is to show in great and loving detail the studios and workspaces of women sculptors, weavers, potters, fine artists, quilters, writers, every craft you can imagine, and lots of stuff beyond craft.

Jo Packham, the writer and creator of “Where Women Create.”

It’s tremendously inspiring just to see these spaces. Why? Because there’s so much love, focus, and aspiration in them. You see racks of fashion artists with a hundred different sets of scissors… or a welding studio that’s as huge and complete as something out of NASA.

Why do I love to see these? Because they are sacred spaces.

The goddess smiles when she looks upon them. She goes out of her way to visit and returns with joy again and again. These spaces have been created by their artists like wombs or the nests of eagles… to bring forth soul work and soul art. You can’t look at them, even just photos, and not feel your heart leap with respect for the artist or craftswoman who has fashioned them and given them life.

A practice has a space.

And that space belongs to heaven. Like the dojo of a great martial arts sensei, we figuratively (and maybe literally) pause at the threshold. We place our palms together and we bow to the space. We may even take our shoes off.

We leave all that is temporal and mundane behind when we cross this threshold.

We leave our egos behind.

We leave our attachment to outcome.

Even my own little office, which is basically clutter, clutter, and more clutter, is a space that I enter gravely and with serious purpose. I have come to work. That work might be fun… I might laugh (or cry) as I’m doing it. But I’m doing it with the same level of purity (I hope) and devotion and aspiration as a Zen swords master or a craftswoman in jewelry or brocade or decoupage.

Even if we work on our laptops at a back table in Starbucks, our commitment and our passion render that space a personal hot spot that the Muse recognizes and to which she grants honor and respect.

A practice has a space… and that space is sacred.

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Having a Practice, #2

I was thinking about the activities that come most immediately to mind when we think of “having a practice.”

Meditation.

Yoga.

Martial arts.

I would certainly include running, fitness training, biking, in fact all athletic endeavors from Spartan races to Brazilian jiu-jitsu to dressage to golf. Advancing into the more esoteric, we can’t leave out calligraphy, swords training, flower arrangement, and the tea ceremony.

In my own lexicon, I would include any artistic endeavor—writing of all kinds, dance, filmmaking, photography, acting, all comedic pursuits, videogame design, etc. And I would not exclude crafts—everything from quilting to furniture making to blacksmithing… any aesthetic activity that takes place in your studio or your home office or out in the garden or the corral.

What do these activities have in common? Why do they seem ideal candidates for a practice?

All involve, as an aim or intention, the effacement of the ego.All require, to achieve their highest levels, a form of psychic surrender.All are—however we might define this—”spiritual.”

The aim of a practice, in my view, is to seek the spirit by way of the body. In other words, using the physical to attempt to reach the ethereal.

In Downward Dog, we put the body into a certain alignment, a specific posture with regard to gravity. The point is, yes, to stretch and strengthen. But more than that, it’s to take the mind out of the ego “I” and into the “Witness I.” And from there, to higher versions of consciousness.

That’s the point, I think, of any pursuit in the arts or the crafts (and entrepreneurship as well.) 

For sure, I consider my own writing a practice.

I’m trying produce a “work,” yes. And I want the work to be good and even to “succeed.” But the real intention is to seek a form of “the zone,” to achieve a state of “play” that is beyond effort and exertion and beyond the constraining and limiting ego.

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Seeing the Field

I was watching the Cowboys-Lions game on TV the other night, when one of the commentators, Troy Aikman—himself a Hall of Fame Cowboys quarterback from the 90s—made an observation in praise of the current Dallas QB, Dak Prescott. “He’s seeing the field really well right now,” Troy said.

Meanwhile, over the holidays, I was visiting my family. Watching my two-year-old nephew Logan (actually my great-nephew) bounce around from Christmas gifts to playing with his cousins to trying to negotiate a steep flight of stairs, I realized his whole world is about seeing the field.

Life is the field for him.

At one point, he was struggling to get the wrapping paper off a gift. His grandmother reached in. “Do you want some help, Logan?” Logan immediately and forcefully pushed her hand away. He was not only impelled to make sense of the field … it was fun for him. You couldn’t have stopped him if you tried.

You and I as artists and entrepreneurs live to see the field. It’s our job. Our calling. But what field(s)? The field of the material world, of course. But then fields beyond that. The field of the future, of potentiality, of time forward and back …

We struggle to see the inner fields as well. The field of our calling, of our dreams, of our imagination. What is our art? How do we reach the level beyond this one … and levels beyond that? What is being? What is honor? What is death? What is the soul? 

We live in the field of our imagination. But what is that? How many limiting beliefs are we carrying that are preventing us from seeing what’s right in front of us? How would our lives be different if we could see those fields? If we could operate within them? 

I thought, watching Logan under the Christmas tree, that of all the fields that I should or could be seeing, I’m probably not even aware of .0001 of them.

I’m like my little nephew, struggling with my baby fingers just to get the wrapping off the package. 

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“Do you work over the Holidays?”

I don’t. It’s a “lane thing” for me. On a normal working week (or working day), I definitely psych myself  into a working lane, by which I mean a narrowly-focused channel that excludes all serious distraction.

Right now I’ve dropped out of that lane. I’m hanging with the fam 500 miles from my work desk. Both banks of the lane are open.

This is not necessarily easy for me. I like being in the lane. But every now and then it’s good to drop the intense and narrow focus and just be a regular person.

That’s my wish for you and every one of us soldiers in the trenches during this Holiday Season. A few extra hours in the sack and a few superfluous calories won’t kill us. I give myself and I give all of us permission to chill with the people we love and get fat for a few days.

Have a great Holiday Season, whatever your persuasion. We’ll get back into the trenches in the New Year!

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Boundary Boss

I did a podcast last week with psychotherapist Terri Cole. Do you know her?

She’s the author of Boundary Boss (which I highly recommend) and a powerful and insightful voice on social media and the web. She’s also a good friend. Terri’s husband, Vic Juhasz, is a great illustrator who did all the visual work on The Daily Pressfield.

That, in fact, was the main thrust of our podcast conversation.

Psychotherapist Terri Cole

But I noticed in the prep materials that Terri said she always asked guests, at the program’s end, the same question:

“Personally, what has been your most challenging boundary struggle and how did you overcome it?”

It turned out Terri didn’t ask the question that particular day, but the subject got me thinking. How would I answer?

“Boundary Boss” by Terri Cole

When we think of boundary issues in the psychological sense, we’re usually referring to excessively intrusive words or actions between people—the boss who takes liberties with our time or our person, the spouse or lover whose comments always seem to undermine us, the loudmouth uncle who insists on ruining Thanksgiving.

But, I realized, my most challenging boundary issue isn’t with another person.

It’s with me.

It’s with that voice in my head that is constantly telling me I’m not good enough to tackle the project I’m about to begin, that it’s all been done before (and better than I’ll ever do it), that I’m too old/too young, overeducated/undereducated, etc., etc.

In other words, the voice of Resistance is the same in my head now as it was in 1974 (and no doubt the same in your head too.)

Thinking of this from Terri’s “boundary boss” perspective, I thought, “This is where DRAWING THE LINE is mandatory.”

This is where the real voice in my head has to say, “Listen, you! You do not have the right to say those things to me. You don’t have the right to use that tone. And you sure as hell don’t have the right to do it over and over … and never, never stop. Back off! Take your trash somewhere else, but don’t dump it on me!”

The struggle against our own self-sabotage, fear, self-doubt, tendency to procrastinate, perfectionism, etc, is really, I realized from Terri’s question, a boundary issue.

It’s a question of drawing the line. It’s about standing up for ourselves and protecting the best and most vulnerable parts of our psyches. “You, Voice in my Head, where do you get the nerve to say those things to me? And to say them in that arrogant, condescending tone of voice? Stop right now. I dismiss you. I am getting to work!”

P.S. Signed copies and Special Edition Gift Boxes of “The Daily Press” are still available here.

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Having a Practice

We’ve been talking for the past two posts about starting a New Project before we’ve finished the Project We’re Working On Now.

Why do we do this? What’s the principle behind it?

We do it because to stop (or pause) after Project #1 means we are one-hit wonders. We are dabbling. We are amateurs.

To continue, on the other hand, means we are pursuing our calling as a practice.

It means we are pros. It means we are on the right side of the Muse’s ledger. It means we are aligned with the Cosmic Juju.

We can have a meditation practice

What is a practice?

You and I can have a yoga practice. We can have a meditation practice. We can have a martial arts practice.

We can also have a writing practice … or a painting practice, or a musical composition practice.

Here are just a few of the characteristics of a practice.

A practice is enacted as a ritual.A practice is engaged in every day.A practice is lifelong.A practice is pursued for its own sake, not for any societal or financial gain.A practice is a spiritual pursuit embodied in a physical or psychic endeavor.A practice often involves a teacher or mentor.

Do we—you and I—call ourselves artists? Then we are in this for life. Book #1 (or Album #1 or Podcast #1) is only one link in a chain we will build from now until they take us out feet-first. There will be a Book #9 and a Book #99. 

We will not stop after Album #11 or Podcast #798. 

This is what we do.

This is our practice.

P.S. The final (bonus) week of The Daily Pressfield—after the first 365 days—is about having a practice. It comes last because it’s the deepest, bottom-line truth of the artist’s life. Signed copies are still available.

P.P.S. More to come on “having a practice” in the following weeks.

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“Start the next one today”

We talked last week about my old friend and mentor Paul Rink’s advice to me when I told him I had just finished my first manuscript.

“Good for you,” he said without looking up. “Start the next one today.”

Let’s examine this wisdom a little more deeply.

When you and I finish a project and release it to the world … and then STOP, waiting breathlessly for the response, we are messing with the primal laws of the universe. 

1. We have planted ourselves dangerously in the ego.

The ego is selfish, fearful, shallow, competitive. The ego clings. It lives in what Vedantists would call Attachment, meaning “emotional attachment to the outcome of its endeavors.”

“You have the right to your labor, Arjuna,” declared Krishna in the Bhagavad-Gita, “but not to the fruits of your labor.”

2. Another principle of Vedanta:

“Labor without attachment is worship.”

What this means, as I understand it, is that when we let go of all attachment to the outcome of our novel publication/album release/opening of our Thai Fusion restaurant … we shift the locus of our enterprise from the ego to the Self (or the soul if you prefer.),

The Muse likes this. Heaven likes this. 

We are now operating on the plane of the soul, not the plane of the ego.

3. The point of a practice (by which I mean a daily ritual practice, as of yoga or meditation or martial arts) is to seek the spiritual by means of the physical.

We hold ourselves in Warrior Pose physically while seeking, through our psychic focus and intention, to reach out to the spiritual.

The making of art is a practice too. This is writing, this is music, this is filmmaking. This is any daily enterprise engaged in with full attention and full commitment.

In other words, Book #1 (or Album #1 or Movie #1) should be followed in seamless succession by Book #2 and so on. That’s what makes writing or music or filmmaking a practice. That’s what elevates it beyond the selfish, shallow, fearful, competitive Little Mind of the Ego.

“Good for you. Start the next one today.”

P.S. Thanks again to everyone who ordered The Daily Pressfield. We’re running out of our signed first printing (more to come in a few weeks) but there are still a few left in time for Christmas gifting.

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Post-partum

Signed copies and gift boxes of The Daily Pressfield are flying out the door and I’m depressed.

It’s weird. In the hours when you’d think you’d be most gratified, you sometimes only feel deflated. I’ve had moviemakers tell me they feel the same after their film comes out … and painters and photographers and dancers. And let’s not forget mothers!

This is what Seth Godin calls “the Dip” and it is a mo-fo.

In The War of Art, I told the story of the first time I finished a manuscript. This was back in the days of typewriters so I actually had a pile of pages (and a second pile of “carbon copies,” if anyone remembers those) that I could lift in my two hands. Victory! I had finally finished something! I went down the street to my friend Paul Rink’s camper (he was a writer, about thirty years older than I, who had mentored me all the way through the book). I told him I had just typed THE END. I had slain the dragon.

“Good for you,” Paul said without looking up. “Start the next one tomorrow.”

That was twenty-something books ago, and the only cure I’ve found for post-partum depression is to do just what Paul said. In fact, I’ve gone him one better in the intervening years. My theory now is that I want to be at least a third of the way through the first draft of the next book when I finish the one I’m working on now.

There should never be a “between books.” The Dip is too gruesome. We can’t fall into that pit. Our own Resistance will destroy us.

So it’s back to the grind, brothers and sisters. We gotta get another bun in the oven!

Seriously, thanks again to everyone who has pre-ordered The Daily Pressfield. I know we’ve had issues shipping to Europe, Australia, and especially Canada. And there’s no audiobook yet. My apologies! We are working full-tilt on both.

Signed hardbacks and Special Edition Gift Boxes are still available (in time for Christmas).

“Start the next one tomorrow!”

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A new kind of Resistance (for me)

First, thanks to everybody who has jumped on board to order THE DAILY PRESSFIELD.

You should see our garage and back room. Diana (who is the brains of the outfit) has been feverishly packing Gift Boxes for days. The first UPS pickup is today. I think everyone is going to be pretty happy when they get these packages. They are truly “Publishing above and beyond.”

Meanwhile, I’m down with the flu so forgive me if this post is a quickie.

It’s about a new and quite diabolical expression of Resistance that I’ve never experienced before but that I want to pass along in case anyone else experiences it.

It’s like the flu. It might be going around.

I’m lying in bed (something one should never do), “thinking.” Suddenly, my mind starts going on grievances. Personal issues I have with a specific person. You can imagine where this is going. Within ten minutes, I have built myself up to such a fever that I’m on the brink of phoning this person, who is very close to me, and telling them off in such a furious manner that they’ll never speak to me again.

Instantly, it occurs to me that I am at the very end of a really difficult draft of a new fiction book.

What a minute!

This is freakin’ Resistance!

My fear of finishing that draft (and I’m also worried about THE DAILY PRESSFIELD coming off well) has morphed into this Grievance Monster that, if I had acted on it, would have torpedoed a lot of good stuff.

I immediately flashed back to various fights I’ve had over the years with people close to me.

OMG, have some of them been triggered by this kind of fear/self-sabotage/BS?

Arrrrrggggh!

I pass this on for what it’s worth as Thanksgiving approaches. Resistance is diabolical. It can fool us completely. Let’s all be grateful … and for sure keep an eye out for any runaway Grievance Dialogues.

Happy Thanksgiving … and thanks again to everyone who pre-ordered THE DAILY PRESSFIELD.

Signed copies and Gift Boxes are still available here.

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