The War of Art
December 1, 2016
Ethan Maurice
By: Steven Pressfield The War of Art is the ultimate creative kick-in-the-ass. It's a potent source of inspiration and guide to destroying procrastination of the things we care about most. If you are aspiring towards art, writing, getting in shape, starting a business, or basically any other worthwhile endeavor: read it.
Steven Pressfield clearly illustrates our never ending battle with Resistance, which is the force that opposes us in doing any worthwhile action. Resistance is the inner enemy that wants us to take it easy, to put it off until tomorrow, to not stray from the pack. To beat Resistance and reach our potential, Pressfield explains that we must “turn pro” and treat our endeavors like we would any professional occupation. Every day, we must show up and put in hard, dedicated work towards our project without slackening our resolve. This is where creativity flourishes, dreams become reality, and as Pressfield puts it, “The Muse” is called upon for inspiration.
As artists and professionals it is our obligation to enact our own internal revolution, a private insurrection inside our own skulls. In this uprising we free ourselves from the tyranny of consumer culture. We overthrow the programming of advertising, movies, video games, magazines, TV and MTV by which we have been hypnotized from the cradle. We unplug ourselves from the grid by recognizing that we will never cure our restlessness by contributing our disposable income to the bottom line of Bullshit, Inc., but only by doing our work.
The paradox seems to be, as Socrates demonstrated long ago, the truly free individual is free only to the extent of his own self-mastery. While those who will not govern themselves are condemned to find masters to govern over them.
Fear is good. Like self-doubt, fear is an indicator. Fear tells us what we have to do.
Remember our rule of thumb: The more scared we are of a work or calling, the more sure we can be that we have to do it.
Now consider the amateur: the aspiring painter, the wannabe playwright. How does he pursue his calling? One, he doesn’t show up every day. Two, he doesn’t show up no matter what. Three, he doesn’t stay on the job all day. He is not committed over the long haul; the stakes for him are illusory and fake. He does not get money. And he overidentifies with his art. He does not have a sense of humor about failure. You don’t hear him bitching, “This fucking trilogy is killing me!” Instead, he doesn’t write his trilogy at all.
He sustains himself with the knowledge that if he can just keep those huskies mushing, sooner or later the sled will pull into Nome.
The amateur believes he must first overcome his fear; then he can do his work. The professional knows that fear can never be overcome. He knows there is not such thing as a fearless warrior or a dread-free artist.
He reminds himself it's better to be in the arena, getting stomped by the bull, than to be up in the stands or out in the parking lot.
Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now.”
William H. Murray
What happens in that instant when we learn we may soon die, Tom Laughlin contends, is that the seat of our consciousness shifts. It moves from the Ego to the Self.
The world is entirely new, viewed from the Self. At once we discern what’s really important. Superficial concerns fall away, replaced by a deeper, more profoundly-grounded perspective.
The artist is the servant of that intention, those angels, that Muse. The enemy of the artist is the small-time Ego, which begets Resistance, which is the dragon that guards the gold. That's why an artist must be a warrior and, like all warriors, artists over time acquire modesty and humility. They may, some of them, conduct themselves flamboyantly in public. But alone with the work they are chaste and humble. They know they are not the source of the creations they bring into being. They only facilitate. They carry. They are the willing and skilled instruments of the gods and goddesses they serve.
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