I recently read Steven Pressfield’s The War of Art. It was a great book, packed with great insight, hard-earned wisdom, and some spiritual thoughts that I resonated strongly with.
Ideas that really struck me:
Along with this wonderful nugget:
“The Bhagavad-Gita tells us we have a right only to our labor, not to the fruits of our labor. All the warrior can give is his life; all the athlete can do is leave everything on the field.”
I thoroughly loved the book. But there was something hollow in me when I finished reading it, like i’d missed some main point. I thought a little about it and came to a realization.
The main idea of the book is Resistance. It defines it as this metaphysical entity that seeks to destroy our potential. Resistance seeks physical success, and tries everything it can to destroy our divine ability to transcend our human state. Anyone who has endeavoured to transcend his or her stature and identity has felt its toxic effects, its miserable call, its bullying.
The issue is, I knew about resistance already. I’d felt it every day of the last two years, trying to learn on my own from scratch. I’ve crumpled before it many times before, slowly building up strength with which to mount my resistance. By the end of last winter, I could get about two hours of good, focused work done a day, completely self-motivated. By the end of this last summer, I could do four. I’m working my way up to five now. The reason it’s been such slow going is that resistance rules my life. It’s been my master and mistress for many years now.
In reading this book, I met her once again. I saw her exploits laid out in a nice clear prose. But that hollow feeling came, and I realized what it was: I already know everything I need to know about resistance. All there is to do now is to act.
My friend Bryce came up with a theory as to why we consistently fail to make the mark: we seek input because we fear output.
We seek out resources, tutorials, self help books, and the like not because we want to overcome resistance, but because we are weak to its pull. We set out for resources before we have tried the work ourselves.
Books are often held on a pedestal as a universally positive endeavor. I can certainly agree that books hold more valuable information than scrolling youtube, but their appeal for me is nearly the same: it’s simple entertainment. An avoidance of work that must be done; a resignation to resistance. Reading a book is the easiest way to pretend to make progress on some goal of mine, because it cannot fail. It does not threaten me. To sit down, against the terrifying void of my own incompetence, and face resistance in her natural habitat… now that is progress.
In conclusion, it was a rather perfect book to read for me at this moment, because its central message decimated my experience of the book itself.
I believe books are valuable. To what degree they can be of use to me now I don’t know. Bryce and I came up with a good rule of thumb for it, though:
When you’re absolutely stumped, find a resource. Otherwise, seek the answer within.
I’ll be following this compass for the next while, and will be redoubling my efforts against resistance. It’s the good fight, and I’m planning on fighting it to the last.