Resistance is futile...unless its not. Let me explain. Lately I have been sorta kinda resisting the proverbial pen and the paper. I say proverbial because, well, I really do much of my word processing electronically these days. I hand-write an exercise called Morning Pages most mornings and often write notes to myself throughout the day. But the bulk of composition is done at the keyboard.
Now don’t get me wrong, I like the keyboard method. It is quick, clean and involves auto-correct and instant editing and such. My words appear magically upon the electronically simulated page and tend to come together in a fairly comprehensible fashion. No, it is not the actual keyboard or even the pen and paper I resist. It is that actual composing. The act of sitting down and writing...electronic, hand, or even dictation.
Why this resistance you might ask? The short answer is: I don’t know!
So back to the subject of this friendly blog of mine. It’s been over three weeks since I last blogged. Fortunately this is an occasional blog. No many riding on it. And readers seem to not mind when I go silent for periods of time. In other words, there is one of the problems. Nothing to keep me accountable. Thus the resistance factor.
But truly, resistance is futile; especially if it is something you really are called to do. That little critic and his rival, the muse, are constantly having these arguments in my head. Kinda like a battle between good and evil, except I don’t believe either are just good or evil. (See link below)
I try to listen to the muse, but her voice is soft. The critic’s voice is quite loud, a booming baritone almost. Interesting how I see one as masculine, the other feminine. Perhaps that is part of the resistance? Hmmm. I need to ponder on that a bit.
Anyway, I started by saying resistance is futile...unless its not. Depends on the definition of futility. Futility implies uselessness or pointlessness. I see how that might apply here. It is pointless to avoid the keyboard, the paper, the pen, because I know I will eventually pick it up again. Thus the futility of resistance. The futility, however, might serve another purpose. While resisting, I am doing other things like laundry, gardening, eating, planning trips, personal and business paperwork...you know, the grudging things that must be done to get on with life.
But sooner or later the muse calls. She sings sweetly in my ear and I succumb. Resistance is indeed futile then. Now if I could just give up listening to the voice of the critic. I know, the critic is there to keep you safe: safe from failure, heartache, rejection and the like. But really, maybe it would be best to just stop, hear the words of caution and move through the green light of inspiration. Kinda like a metaphorical fanciful traffic signal. I like that image.
And so with that, dear readers, I break through another resistance blockade. Here we go. That which we resist, only gains more power.
Here’s a nice little blog article (short) that kinda sums up what I am saying above:
The Critic and the Muse - Good vs Evil