Pave the path
The daily work of what we imagine
Five minutes of exercise and you are back on the path. Five minutes of writing and the manuscript is moving forward again. Five minutes of conversation and the relationship is restored. It doesn't take much to feel good again. — James Clear
Under the cover of no one hearing your thoughts, think brave thoughts, searching thoughts, painful thoughts, and maybe foolish thoughts, not to arrive at right answers but to better understand the human mind and heart as you put both to use. —Patrick Bringley
People often tell me that I should be a great writer since I’m such a big reader. In truth, I find it to be the opposite. Because I am a big reader, I am shy to think of myself as a writer. Doubtful that I can contribute, that my idea is original, that my language is sufficient.
I’ve been interrogating that limiting belief a bit lately.
James Clear (yes, him again) reminds us of how much can happen in five minutes.
Yes. Keep going. The manuscript, blog post, letter, or resume won’t write itself. So here I am - writing, though five minutes was quite a while ago. (First draft in longhand was more like eight minutes, then one typed version, and now the edits - twice, in case you were wondering).
Dedication and discipline is my current step in my path as a writer.
It is work. It is facing a blank page / screen again. And again. Allowing myself, my thoughts, my language, to fill it. Without judgement. Without expectation. Always with curiosity. What will take place when my pen connects to the paper and the nerves in my hands and the synapses in my brain that are firing that bring together images, ideas, theories and knowledge so that I can put it here? Full disclaimer: I am not a scientist but I’m pretty sure something to that effect happens - is happening! What a miracle in and of itself.
I think my dad loved that about writing - the miracle of it.
My dad always exclaimed “what is this?”. We made fun of him for how often he said it. He saw the miracle. How marvelous that something came into being. How delightful that someone came up with something and crafted it to be whatever it is what he was seeing or experiencing. Sometimes it was something small: a simple dish my mom made for dinner. Sometimes it was something totally new to him: his first time seeing an Apple computer that didn’t have a tower like the PCs he was used to. My dad experienced it with wonder and joy.
This surfaced while I was reading Patrick Bringley’s beautiful memoir, All the Beauty in the World. It is the story of his experience as a guard at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, which he became after the death of his older brother. The pace of the book meanders: both galleries and grief. Just the right book for me right now.
Bringley ends his book with a call to whoever walks through the doors of the Met (which I have done dozens of times, and I hope you will too). He invites us to take it in. To put it in context. And to feel welcome to have an opinion. To think all sorts of thoughts in the process “to better understand the human mind and heart as you put both to use.”
This touched a chord in my I-am-a-writer heart.
I was reminded of a phrase I had written on post its all over the place when I was trying to build myself up to take the scary step of leaving my job.
Pave the path.
I’ve put it on a post-it on my monitor again.
The road to what we dream does not suddenly appear. The five minutes we spend on our dream, our work, our family, our bodies, our selves: they are five minutes we spend on who we really want to be. Who we imagine ourselves to be. We are five minutes closer to being that person. They are the “giornata” - the day’s work - that Bringley describes when he talks about how Michelangelo painted the Sistine Chapel. He tells us that the Sistine Chapel is made up of these giornatas; they are really a “mosaic of these small, irregularly shaped accomplishments.” Even a genius like Michelangelo had to put in the work.
Pave the path.
You’ve heard the saying that you are the company you keep. With this perspective, I am in the company of artists, writers, and creators all of whom were dedicated and disciplined to whatever they imagined. I am in the company of those who kept going. So that some day someone will look at what I create and ask, like my dad did, “what is this?”
Prompts for you:
What do you imagine for yourself? Free write for five minutes (pen to paper, keep it moving). What do you imagine for yourself?
What is one way you can “pave the path”?
What is an accomplishment in your giornata - your daily work?
What “brave thoughts, searching thoughts, painful thoughts, and maybe foolish thoughts” do you have that “help you better understand the human mind and heart?”
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