To Do Or Not To Do, That is the Question

Oh the simpler time, how I long for it! how tired I am of this time with its insistence on the mundane, the trivial. Those who can manage to jungle these invisible technical wires are the heroes. I am no hero.

But perhaps I am. Perhaps we, who try even slightly to alter the resistance within are heroes. My husband calls me his 'brave warrior.' 

Because I try, on many days, to break the wall of resistance within. Because I challange my comfort zone and go to where I have never been before. And yet how subtle at times the difference being doing and being, between meditative contemplation and sheer laziness. And yet how similar they can appear!

Sometimes the road ahead, the requirements of the day are as clear as pristine blue sky; how I love those days. I open my agenda, the day is packed full. I teach Alexander Technique and singing; I perform. When the day is full with either students or musicians coming for rehearsal that is easy. There is no resistance. Permission to act, to give, to emote is not in question. I am loved and needed; I have a use that regulates itself. The day is not about me, luckily. I am servant of the higher spheres and for this I feel enormous gratitude when the long day comes to an end; when I've been so busy there's hardly time to eat, when my husband comes home from his also very long day (he's working with climate change, he's lucky there's a moment to spare to tie his shoes!), if we are in Oslo we will cover our body in warm clothing - there's no bad weather in Norway, only bad clothing - and head for the nearby trail for a walk in the night. 

The challenge for me is the other, the day that opens full and expensive with a mostly empty agenda; because I am also a writer and a songwriter and both those tasks ask for a large window of time. Herein lies the rub. Can I, dare I enter into that fertile void and sit long enough to manage the task? I really can sometimes, so much more than in the past. And yet the other, this calling to just Be and not Do, at times seems and feels so much more worthy. 

I become mindful as I prepare my healthy dinner, as I chop carrots and zucchini, as I dry the tofu and prepare it for the stir-fry. I am mindful as I think that tomorrow will be the day that I will get back to the creative task of finishing my book, of writing a new song. I've just finished reading a very useful book called War on Art by Steven Pressfield. It's all about Resistance. He generously writes how he came through to the other side. It is impressive; it is a delightful little book. And yet, since finishing the book, since imagining myself conquering Resistance - even having a remarkable dream where my art forms became children and Resistance the mother who we all fought - I have done diddly-squat! I have only been nourishing the non-doing part of me. I have rested, I have slept. I have read two more books. I have watched three episodes of Downton Abby and one episode of Treme. What wonderful diversions we have in this time! 

I have also licked a wound of rejection, even though I am so happy that the tides are turning. I am happy that Obama has won the election. I am happy that big Money is not All Powerful. I am happy that the Occupy Movement is back in swing - now dubbed: 'Occupy Love!' I am happy that the team of 350.org is out and running and covering the US (where I was born and raised, and where I fled from during the Reagan years). But I am sad that they didn't include me in their team. I wanted to be apart of their traveling circus, but alas I am not famous enough. I am not famous at all at the moment. And being famous is the hands and feet of our time. It is the calling card; it is the entrance fee, it is the essence of acceptance. Having me on their team of musicians and writers would not draw the crowd and the crowd is what they needed. Because I have not Done Enough. It is not a question of talent - I finally at long last see. It is a question of stubborn attention to the art of doing; of the art of breaking into the room of resistance. To Be, or at least to sleep late, is much easier. At least for me. I wish it wasn't. I wish the passion that I do at times feel would rush to the surface and force me - as if I need to pee - to sit and be present to the act at hand. 

I love the way Steven Pressfield defines Genius - the element I have convinced myself is lacking in my being. He writes: 'Genuis is a Latin word; the Romans used it to denote an inner spirit which watches over us, guiding us to our calling. It is our soul's seat, the vessel that holds our being-in-potential.' Aren't those lovely words? I have packed those delicious words in a picnic basket and I am waiting for the perfect summer's day to unpack and eat those delicious words. 

Join me, will you, in partacking of our packed lunches even if the day is not the perfect one!