Showing posts with label being. Show all posts
Showing posts with label being. Show all posts

Sep 9, 2019

Being, doing, having

This is part of a series of posts. Come back when I’m finished and I’ll link them together.
(Well, it’s a series of two. And here’s the second one)
But for now

Being, Doing, Having

Being leads to doing leads to having.
Be a writer. Do writing. Do it long enough, and you’ll have a piece of writing as a result. Do it long enough, and you’ll have skilz.
Be. Do. Have.
But doing does not lead to being.
Forcing someone who is not a writer to do writing is a form of abuse. It leads to frustration.
So what do I do once I’m a writer?
What’s the answer?
Here’s something I’ve learned: If I look carefully at what I’m doing, and intend to find answers, I can find answers.
Right now, I am writing.
And looking.
And intending to find answers.
And what I discover is an illusion.

Illusions

After watching myself write, I start to consider that writing might be an illusion. This should not surprise me. Everything is an illusion. I’ve written about this before:
Why should writing be different?
Here’s a test for illusions I learned from Sam Harris’ book “Waking up.” Look carefully. See what changes. If what you were looking at changes radically—or even disappears—then it was an illusion.
As I write, I look more carefully. Before long, I see through the illusion.
I’m not writing.
I’m not writing this sentence.
Even though I’ve decided that I’m a writer, I don’t write.
I sit. I intend. And writing appears.

How writing appears

I’ve written about this before. A lot, like here and here and here and here
Then, after the writing appears, I read what has appeared. And then I judge its quality.
Quality!
That’s what it is.
Find out why, here.

Sep 2, 2019

Being is easy. And when you're being and not doing, you're nothing.

I am a writer. A writer writes.
A writer who does not write is not a non-writing writer. He’s nothing. Unless it’s a female writer, in which case, she’s nothing. Or Ze’s nothing. Whatever.
Nothing.
When I’m not writing, I am nothing. And I suffer.
I don’t realize what’s wrong. I simply think, “I can’t write,” and then I try to make myself write.
But I can’t.
Because I can’t write when “I can’t write.”
How could I?
And not only can’t I write, but I’m not a writer.
I’ve let myself become nothing.

What to do when I’m nothing

If I’ve become nothing, it’s easy to become something again, because I know This One Simple Trick (TM).
Here’s the trick: being is easy.
The easy way to be something is just decide to be it.
To be a writer, just decide to be one.
You don’t have to do anything—like write—to be a writer. You don’t have to have anything—like skill—to be a writer Those are harder. But being? Piece of cake. It’s one decision away.
To be a writer, all I have to do is decide “I am a writer.”
I decide, therefore I am.
If I truly decide that I am a writer, then writing will happen, because if you are a writer, you write. Can’t help yourself.
Because that’s what writers do.
So after days of being nothing, I decided to be a writer, and I became a writer, and here I am writing.

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