Quite the question, is it not? Not an easy one to approach without squirming in the seat a bit.

These days I feel pulled in so many directions. It’s not that I haven’t always been, it’s that now I have a greater realization of this whirlpool momentum. I have a more intimate understanding of the value of an hour and the worth of a hundred dollars. I see the inexorable way in which these small details add up. I sense how the big catastrophes and successes are nothing more than accumulated decisions and moments. I see how, when viewed in reverse, they form a mammoth shape that becomes its own entity, obscuring the bits and pieces that culminated into the moment of change.

Thinking on this topic leaves me with the inevitable feeling that so much of my time is wasted. This is not because the activities I choose are not worthy of pursuit. This is not because the efforts are vain or misguided. This is because they are diluted; because the difference between a good effort, a great effort, and a masterful effort are subtle details accumulated over time. Focusing them into a single pile, if you’ll entertain the metaphor, produces a single, massive result. Dividing them over many areas gently coats the surface but never amounts to a grand outcome.

My humility would argue that this is also a fine result and that the purpose of my efforts cannot be fully understood while immersed in the moment, with only one piece of the puzzle to examine. At the same time, I understand that visibility is power and power is not merely a force of evil. Power is the authority to invoke change. Change is the opportunity (and burden) to invoke a greater purpose in oneself and those touched by my words. But without creating a theater for my work, I cannot hope to achieve any lasting influence.

Thus, my scattered efforts and interests, my many loyalties, keep me from building the pillar upon which I could stand, visible to my audience, and offer what I have to say. And perhaps this is part of the Greater Plan. Perhaps this is for the Greater Good. For who is to say that anything I would offer would be more beneficial than destructive to those who would listen? Certainly I can’t claim such wisdom, standing here with one piece of an infinite puzzle, speculating on how the picture might turn out, based on which way I turn my pegs and slots.

Motivation is a strange thing for most of us. Today a good friend over at Flexbandit forwarded me a video that captures the spirit of our motivation as people. It also captures something that I feel is wrong with many businesses today.

Below are a few highlights from the video, which I hope you will take a moment to watch and think about, whether you’re a writer, animator, programmer, martial artist, or just a person interacting with this world of commerce and business.

We are not as endlessly manipulable and predictable as you might think.

Money is a motivator. If you don’t pay people enough, they won’t be motivated.

But once they are paid enough, money is taken off the table. There are three factors that lead to better performance:  Autonomy, the desire to direct our own lives; mastery, the urge to get better at stuff and achieve; and, a sense of purpose.

Companies that are flourishing are animated by [a transcendent purpose]

The video begins a bit abstract and vague, but then really gets into some interesting details. You should take a few minutes and watch this video now. And, for more detail, the one on TED.

As Marilee Swirczek said,

Writing is the act of selecting and organizing words–creating prose with words–with the purpose of providing the reader with an insight, or truth, into the human condition.

Yes, one can write simply to entertain or to produce a laugh or a reaction, but insight is the higher goal of writing, The Art, if you will.

There are many reasons people study martial arts: Some want to get in shape, some want self confidence, and some want to beat people up. Those who make a serious study of martial arts ultimately pursue a higher path: Enlightenment. There are many philosophies and analogies to describe what enlightenment means; because, like writing, it is unique to each individual. A simple way of describing it is thus:  The pursuit of martial arts is the act of selecting thoughts and actions and organizing them–creating prose with movement–with the purpose of discovering an insight into one’s own state or condition.

Both of these arts achieve similar goals. Both of these arts are vast, lifelong pursuits with an ever-expanding horizon. This literally means that the more I learn about each, the larger the field of possibility becomes, the more I understand how little I know. There is an odd comfort in seeking excellence in this way. Sure, it stings at first. This pursuit of an ever expanding target is much like the Christian pursuit of God. One strives to be like perfection, knowing that the effort is vain, that each step forward is still infinitely far away. But it’s still one step closer.

There is a humbling peace in this discovery. I can let go of feelings of inadequacy and the need to achieve and excel and to conceal my ignorance and failures. They are par for the course. The arts I strive to grow in are too vast for any to master in full. Wherever I am on the path relative to another, we are both still at the beginning. Another may be a horizon away from me, but still looks to an even farther horizon of his own.

And, with each new discovery of the craft, I may only grow one step closer to enlightenment; but, I also understand my companions for the journey just a bit more intimately, and find a little more capacity to love the diversity of culture and pragmatism that is a human being. It is all about the journey and nothing about the destination.

I read a post today over on Literary Lab about a guy who quit his job and traveled the world, dancing badly in every country he went to while video taping it. Then he wrote a book about it. David Malasarn had this to say about the experience:

This video reminded me that, no matter what you choose to do, no matter how stupid it is, if you do it with passion, joy, and love, other people will be able to participate in that dream.

I encourage you to drop over to the site and check out the video. It was cheesy, but he’s right. What an experience that would be; I’d be willing to sacrifice quite a bit to trade places with Matt for a year.  Check out the first few pages of his book, too. I’m going to pick up a copy and read it; sounds like an intriguing adventure.

I read this passage today, taken from Bird by Bird, by Anne Lamott. Enjoy.

People tend to look at successful writers, writers who are getting their books published and maybe even doing well financially, and think that they sit down at their desks every morning feeling like a million dollars, feeling great about who they are and how much talent they have and what a great story they have to tell; that they take in a few deep breaths, push back their sleeves, roll their necks a few times to get all the cricks out, and dive in, typing fully formed passages as fast as a court reporter. But this is just the fantasy of the uninitiated. I know some very great writers, writers you love who write beautifully and have made a great deal of money, and not one of them sits down routinely feeling wildly enthusiastic and confident. Not one of them writes elegant first drafts. All right, one of them does, but we do not like her very much. We do not think that she has a rich inner life or that God likes her or can even stand her. (Although when I mentioned this to my priest friend Tom, he said you can safely assume you’ve created God it your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do.)

Where does your inspiration come from? Do you write in the mornings or the evenings? How do you get the idea for a plot? How do you write such vivid characters?

All journeyman writers know these questions. If you have been to a reading or read an interview of a popular author, they abound. This question bubbles up within every student of the art at some point. What is often missing, and what even the talented author often cannot articulate to words, is the real question: Where, for you, do your inventions begin and how do you recognize them?

For each author, this is different. But essential to the process for every author is analysis. If you do not look, if you do not see, if you do not stop to polish an idea, then how can you recognize dusty gem from dusty rock? Thus, you must begin by finding a strategy that causes you to dig into everything you see, to be curious about every experience of your day.

I’m taking a course on creative writing, and ran across this passage about the importance of journals as an intimate, vital friend to the writer. Enjoy.

Keep the journal regularly, at least at first. It doesn’t matter what you write and it doesn’t matter very much how much, but it does matter that you make a steady habit of writing. A major advantage of keeping a journal regularly is that it will put you in the habit of observing in words. If you know at dawn that you are committed to writing so many words before dusk, you will half-consciously tell the story of your day to yourself as you live it, finding a phrase to catch whatever catches your eye. When that habit is established, you’ll begin to find that whatever invites your attention or sympathy, your anger or curiosity, may be the beginning of invention. Whoever catches your attention may be the beginning of a character.
Writing Fiction, by Janet Burroway

It’s been a while since I’ve been inpired to express creativity in any visual medium. I tried my hand at it today in photoshop, and what you see below is the product of that day.

Those deep, philosophical places in the back of my mind are awed by this–the infinite wellspring of the mind; the baffling power of creativity that draws on God-knows-what to enable us to create such amazing things from nothing; the creative skill that is like an unseen puppet master taking hold and leading every stroke of the brush.

Creativity is to the artist, like water to fish and air to birds: A constant mystery.

I’ve wanted to talk about this for a while now, but haven’t had anything to say that isn’t brooding. I think The Rejectionist did a fine job of capturing my mood, and without making me seem like the whiny source.

Later, I’ll post a more objective study on the topic. For now, feel free to lament with me on the pitfalls of being carbon based life forms who require food, clothing, and DSL.

It is not the critic who counts; Not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.

The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; Who strives valiantly;

Who errs, and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; But who does actually strive to do the deeds; Who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions; Who spends himself in a worthy cause;

Who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worse, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.

-Theodore Roosevelt

Air is optional.

I hear so much about how people “need” this and “need” that. So what is it that we really need as a person?

You might argue that, to survive, a person needs food, clothing, shelter, water, and air. But who needs to survive?

At first, I’m sure that question sounds absurd. Let’s try it this way: What is more important to you than your own survival? An ideal? A country? Your family? If your answer is nothing, you’ve ranked yourself beside the guppy in nature’s equivalency test, who gives birth to young and never thinks on them again–unless particularly hungry.

So what do you need? And where am I headed? Obviously not advocating that anybody stop breathing–some sort of oxygen strike. Although I have to admit, to my shame, that I have on occasion wished certain people would do just that.

What I want to challenge are our self imposed limitations. Those things we tell ourselves we can’t live without, like our house, job, or love interest. See, while these things may define our situation, they do not define our heart and inner composition.

Those are defined by our conviction and beliefs, the core of which are truth, honor, and faith.

I submit to you that these are the true things we cannot live without. Everything of this world can be taken from us, even air. So be it. Come what may.

Truth, honor, and faith are the three facets we must cling to. These are the things that comprise our inner identity–not our possessions and successes, thank God, though the world crams that lie in our faces day after day. 

Air is nice, and I’d be sad if it were gone. But I cannot be unsettled by a world that threatens my material composition.  I leave you with the immortal words of two great men who explored this truth so much more intimately and eloquently than I…

Letter to Admiral Son Ko-i:

My life is simple, my food is plain, and my quarters are uncluttered. In all things, I have sought clarity. I face the troubles and problems of life and death willingly. Virtue, integrity and courage are my priorities. I can be approached, but never pushed; befriended but never coerced; killed but never shamed.
Admiral Yi Sun-shin

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
      Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
      For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
      I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
       My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
      Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
      Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
      How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
      I am the captain of my soul.
William Ernest Henley