Yesterday, I began to write something. I don’t know yet what it is. I don’t know what it’s going to be. Or why I need to be writing it. Or whether anyone will read it.
It’s also probably shit.
(Ernest Hemingway was right.)
Still, today, I will come back to it – whatever it is. Or maybe I will come back to something else and begin anew. It doesn’t really matter.
What matters is that I come back. What matters is the process. What matters is The Practice.
It’s tempting to think that life is found on the outside. We were sold this idea by self-help culture: be a follower – follow your passion, follow your bliss, have role models, imitate, copy. We were convinced that the grass is always greener on the other side and that we are not merely enough. We were tricked into thinking there are answers somewhere – in Tibet, Nepal, or Bali. In Buddhism. In Barnes&Noble. In the latest New York Times bestseller. In the newest podcast series. In that new match on Tinder.
But travel a bit, and you see: everyone is focused on their little part of life. Everyone has their families to care for, their little pieces of land, their jobs, and their petty little problems.
Contrary to what self-help tells us, everything you seek is found on the inside, in what you already have. Meaning is found in the boredom of your day-to-day routine. The purpose is found in your existing commitments.
Nobody can live all of life. But we can all live our tiny, little parts of it.
In the words of Theodore Roosevelt, all we can do is do what we can, where we are, with what we have.
The Practice is living like a monk. It’s what you do every day that matters. For me, it’s writing, working, and learning.
The Practice is not about the result; it’s about the process.
The Practice is done for its own sake. It’s its own reward.
The Practice is about performing the ritual (or a ceremony), not assessing the result. It’s about believing in your religion, the one dedicated to your life.
The Practice is the fulfilment and satisfaction that today was a good day because you did what you had to do and what truly matters.
Regardless of the outcome.
Annie Dillard was right when she said that you never know what book you’ll end up writing when you begin writing. Vision is not a template you fill in with crayons. It’s energy. Momentum. It’s what gets you started and what gets abandoned in the process, inevitably.
So maybe I am ok.
Maybe not knowing what you’re going to write and feeling like you’re creating shit is OK.
Maybe all I need is to keep up the momentum and finish whatever I am doing as quickly as possible. And then start all over again.
Maybe that’s what writing is.
Maybe it’s all about The Practice.
And today, I did well.
That’s all that matters.
I like this, so much so I am at a loss for words but it brought to mind something Oscar Wilde wrote “Every little action of the common day…”
And you are on Substack! This is new or am I just not paying attention?