I didn’t want to write this post.
Not specifically this post. I didn’t want to write any post.
I concocted many excuses. I don’t feel good. It’s Monday. My office is cold. I’m not jiving with the subject matter. Do people even read these posts? It will take too long and I have too many other things to do. I’m hungry. I’m really hungry. My keyboard has some gunk in it. The workmen drywalling the office suite next door keep smoking outside my window. Said workmen keep bumping the shared wall. I need to drink more water. Someone just messaged me on Instagram, and that’s not going away anytime soon. And…
This is Resistance.
My friend Kevin lent me a copy of The War of Art by Steven Pressfield, in which the author identifies and names the jerk responsible for all my excuses.
Resistance.
The book is all of 165 pages, many of which are no more than half filled. It took all of two hours to read. And I recommend it to anyone in any discipline trying to do something new, profound, or challenging in their life.
Resistance is your (mine; our) mortal enemy. And he attacks whenever and wherever you (I; we) let him.
The first half of the book identifies Resistance, and uncloaks many of his tactics. Here are some examples:
“It’s not the writing part that’s hard. What’s hard is sitting down to write.
What keeps us from sitting down is Resistance.”
“Resistance is not a peripheral opponent. Resistance arises from within. It is self-generated and self-perpetuated. Resistance is the enemy within.”
“Rule of thumb: The more important a call or action is to our soul’s evolution, the more Resistance we will feel toward pursuing it.”
“Resistance has no strength of its own. Every ounce of juice it possesses comes from us. We feed it with power by our fear of it.”
“Procrastination is the most common manifestation of Resistance because it’s the easiest to rationalize.”
Mr. Pressfield lists all manner of ways Resistance attacks: sex, legal trouble, victimhood, drama, pills, unhappiness, criticism, doubt, love, fame.
However Long the Day is about to be released, and over the past few months I’ve realized I’ve spent less and less time writing. As in, no time writing. And I couldn’t get myself back in the saddle. I kept telling myself I needed to do a bunch of other things. I kept finding a way out of sitting in the chair and typing on the keyboard.
Resistance.
If the first half of The War of Art is sobering, the second half is hopeful, even joyful.
Resistance can be beaten: “Resistance hates it when we turn pro.”
I needed to recommit myself to being a pro. I won’t share the many ways being a pro defeats Resistance—that would be unfair to Mr. Pressfield—but I do encourage those who feel any hint of Resistance in their lives to buy and read The War of Art. It’s well worth it.
