
There is a force that waylays us at times. It stalls us. That is putting it mildly, it is out to get us, to eat our souls. It is a force that every creative person knows but most of us never knew it’s name. We just know it is there, like some dark specter looking over our shoulders waiting for us to commit to a creative challenge or venture. Up till now, I never knew its name. But today its has a name. It name is Resistance. Sounds odd and innocuous for something so hideous. It’s Steven Pressfield‘s name. He named it in his book “the War of Art.” I always thought it was several demons; procrastination, self doubt, the Tyranny of the Urgent and more. But Pressfield makes it clear, the enemy is Resistance for it is many.
I see it like a dragon that I must slay. I have been fighting it this past few month. You know it. You have seen it’s shadow over me. It’s breath has hung on me heavy like a chain on my neck. A drug that dulls my creative senses. The dragon whispered in my ear, your are too busy to write. You have no time to shoot. What do you have to offer anyway. You the reader, you knew, you saw it’s shadow and you called out to me. Yet I was dulled by the dragons breath, a stupor of sorts. It was not depression, not this time. True, I have been tiered, but tiered because I have been busy with good and righteous things. Things that count. Even things that have an eternal value. But the creative side of me has been slowly wilting. Slowly fading away. I need it to live as much as I need breath. Things that are of value are of paramount, but if I wither and dry up like a leaf at the end of autumn then what good are those valuable things? I see it now. Pressfield helped me see the dragon. He named it. Anything that has a name, is less scary, less powerful. Because it is identifiable, it can no longer hide. I don’t know yet how to kill it. But I know I can strike back and I will. This is just a start. A breath. Just to write these few lines has been a victory over the beast. His face today is guilt over all the work I need to do. I don’t get paid to write a blog. But it waters my soul. It is fresh air and I breathe again. It is a short breath but it is sweet.
Have you seen your dragon? I know his name. His name is Resistance.
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