“My point is simply this: Whatever circumstances life brings you, you will be more likely to succeed and find happiness if you take responsibility for making your decisions well instead of complaining about things being beyond your control. Psychologists call this having an “internal locus of control,” and studies consistently show that people who have it outperform those who don’t. So don’t worry about whether you like your situation or not. Life doesn’t give a damn about what you like. It’s up to you to connect what you want with what you need to do to get it and then find the courage to carry it through.”

– Ray Dalio, Principles

__________

“Sunrise doesn’t last all morning
A cloudburst doesn’t last all day 
Seems my love is up 
And has left you with no warning 
It’s not always gonna be this grey 

All things must pass
All things must pass away”

– George Harrison, All Things Must Pass

__________

In a week where I have felt the creep of self-pity, it is satisfying to be reminded of simple truths.

I must take responsibility for my own actions.

I need to be adaptable.

This morning necessitated a pep talk: I had to face the reality of a day filled with hard work, despite my reluctance.

I met the challenge and survived (and I don’t think anyone was able to pick up on my initial reticence).

But now the day is nearing its end.

And I need to remember that all things must pass.

I no longer need the tough love of the morning.

The end of the day needs gentler words, that soothe and reassure.

A reminder that it is Ok to struggle.

I take the opportunity to step out out of the hurried stream of activities the day demands. I settle down with a great book, detach and lose my mind.

Tomorrow I might need a kick up the backside.

But tonight, tonight is mine to indulge, unwind and escape reality.

I have run
I have crawled
I have scaled these city walls
These city walls
Only to be with you

But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for
But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for

– U2, I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For

__________

“You must realize, Mr. Dunne, the universe is a library. When I was a young man, I searched the stacks of the branch near my house in Palermo, in Buenos Aires. My fondest hope was to find the single volume that would tell me everything I must know in order to survive.”

– Jorge Luis Borges, quoted in Borges and Me: an Encounter by Jay Parini

__________

I’ve always been someone in search of a system of living.

I’ve longed for an explanation of the meaning of it all.

I’ve craved guidance about where and how to take the next step.

Alas, it hasn’t happened yet.

What I have gradually come to realise is that I must be responsible for the creation of my own system.

There is no one Way.

No single answer, but many questions.

There is no enlightenment, only progress.

So I take ideas from here, there, everywhere.

Keep some, drop a few; accumulate a way of living quilted from the ideas of others.

I don’t ned faith in my system – I know it is eternally imperfect.

There is no belief needed other than in the limitless abundance of available knowledge.

I simply have to try, be curious and resist my natural inertia.

If I stay on the look-out, I may confidently strike out in the direction of a purposeful life.

Or, as is the case more times than not, I wander around the wilderness in search of a path.

But what an adventure!

A modest quest, just for me.

Long may I fail to find what I’m looking for.

“You see, there’s something else I’m going to do, something I must do – only I don’t know what it is. That’s why I go round painting and taping and drawing and writing and that, because it may be one of them. All I know is, this isn’t it for me.”

– John Lennon, quoted in John & Paul: A Love Story in Songs by Ian Leslie

__________

“I don’t know what else to do so I write. It’s my way of seeing the world.”

– Jim Harrison, quoted in Conversations with Jim Harrison, edited by Robert DeMott

__________

Who am I? What do I want to achieve? How should I spend my days? What is my purpose?

All great questions, if a little ambitious.

Mostly I answer with ignorance and uncertainty.

Then I try to get closer to a more precise answer by uncovering what others have got to say.

I read and write as a sort of quest: I am seeking some meaning and some structure to my life.

This journey has been haphazard and would be frustratingly imprecise for another to follow in my steps.

But it’s the only way I know how.

I’m leaning in to what makes my brain light up.

It’s mostly discovery generated from curiosity.

All my thoughts appear as small pieces; I’ve not found enough to see a pattern emerging, but nothing I have learnt so far has put me off my pursuit.

I will keep seeking, observing, gathering, and reflecting.

Perhaps the most useful lesson has been the power of sharing these discoveries.

Even if nobody reads this, its composition has helped me to gain a little clarity.

I’ve put something new in my box of knowledge and can now dive back into infinity.

“It has a slapdash and vigour and sometimes hits an unexpected bull’s-eye. But what is more to the point is my belief that the habit of writing thus for my own eye only is good practice. It loosens the ligaments. Never mind the misses and the stumbles.”

– Virginia Woolf, A Writer’s Diary

__________

“One Saturday, after spending the morning in the laboratory, I bought a fat notebook, and settled down to writing my own statement of what I believed about my place in the world. I wrote for page after page, with a sense of freedom and release. I was objectifying doubts and miseries, pushing them to arm’s length. When I put down my pen, after several hours, I had a feeling that I was no longer the same person who had sat down at the writing table. It was as if I had been studying my face in a mirror, and learned something new about myself. From then on, I used my journal as a receptacle for self-doubt, irritation and gloom, and by doing so I wrote myself back into a state of optimism.”

– Colin Wilson, Dreaming To Some Purpose

__________

The books I like to read are more concerned with observations than solutions.

Treatises don’t appeal to me – I prefer the inner workings and fresh insights found in a writer’s diary.

These are free from prescriptions and carefully laid out arguments.

I find it hard to settle on definitive answers to life’s questions and enjoy reading others’ struggles with the same.

I like a writer’s ideas discovered on the fly, not those rooted in dogma or rendered inert from repetition.

Writing with an open mind.

A diary or journal might be less organised than a traditional book, but it has the advantage of easier digestion.

There is less for me to unpack whilst reading.

I relish spontaneity of thought.

It’s the only way I can write.

Bits here and there, assembled, disassembled, reassembled, with the purpose discovered along the way.

Imperfect, yes, but somehow the writing feels more free.

And so do I.

“1:1 The book of the generation of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham.    

1:2 Abraham begat Isaac; and Isaac begat Jacob; and Jacob begat Judas and his brethren;    

1:3 And Judas begat Phares and Zara of Thamar; and Phares begat Esrom; and Esrom begat Aram…”

– The Gospel of Matthew, The Bible (King James Version)

__________

“In the second place, Coleridge not only read books with minute attention, but he also habitually passed from any given book he read to the books to which that book referred.”

– John Livingstone Lowes, The Road to Xanadu – A Study in the Ways of the Imagination

__________

We all begin somewhere.

All my reading is based on what came before.

Books are begotten by books.

An endless chain of inspiration and sustenance.

What is my reading genealogy?

There is no straight and steady line.

There are many tangents.

The more books I read the more options I have.

I can discard books that don’t connect.

But I keep reading, happy in the knowledge that my own intellectual lineage is uniquely my own.

No one else on this planet has read exactly the same books as me.

Just like my personality, it’s gratifying to reflect that my reading gives me a unique view of the world.

Its the same for everyone else.

The idea of following a guided reading list fills me with revulsion.

Although I am a compulsive reader, that compulsion comes from within.

I pick up on what interests me and can happily ignore the rest.

Who’s keeping score?

There are no gospels dedicated to me.

It’s personal.

“When I was young, people knew I wanted to be a writer—probably because I kept telling them—and often foisted notebooks upon me, as gifts. For a day or so, the fantasy of inscribing wisdom onto various lavishly bound pages was quite entrancing. But everything I wrote was dumb. I knew I was supposed to fill the pages with great wisdom, drafting whole stories and poems, or personal revelations of breathtaking import. But I couldn’t hack it. Things popped into my head and I wrote them down, fragmentarily, with no resemblance to what someone had taught me, or I’d made up myself, was the proper writing of proper literature. And then, ashamed of myself, I’d stop. My bedroom held quite the collection of fancy notebooks with writing only on the first few pages.”

– Daniel Handler, And Then? And Then? What Else?

__________

“Yet, I have never kept a diary. Or I have tried, but it never stuck. Again and again I would begin: with a very short entry, or else with a long one that would come to stand on its own, there in the beginning of a notebook, followed by all of those blank pages. I don’t know if, when I wrote essays, I was actually returning I to the same space, if somehow I had managed to get back to those empty pages, managed to get back to a pasture of thought. And now that it is done, I am keeping a real diary for the first time in my life, or is it a pasture, mostly because when I can’t, or don’t have time, to work on my novel, I can still write there. Sometimes I trick myself when writing in my notebook; sometimes I end up working on the novel after all, in those pages. And that is the best reason to return to it, that it brings me closer to something I haven’t otherwise been able to get to, or that can’t get to me.” I want to go further into my writing, into my thinking. ‘And do I?'”

– Amina Cain, A Horse at Night

__________

I cannot bear the pressure of a notebook.

There is an automatic commitment, that once started, it must be finished.

I don’t like to keep my writing within such a tight hold.

I build up ideas and collect thoughts as fragments.

If I have to imagine my writing as being part of a cohesive whole, if what I write now had to follow what I wrote yesterday, I would freeze.

Too much at stake.

I have never finished a notebook.

Give me a pad of paper and I can fly.

When I finish writing I can tear the sheets from it; the pad reverts back to emptiness, and I can take away my thoughts and put them somewhere else.

Every time I sit down to write I have a blank pad in front of me. No evidence of yesterday’s writing, and no thought of tomorrow.

Each day the writing is brand new.

I am free.

But do I have anything worth writing?

No? Then I can simply remove the page, take it to the bin, and start again tomorrow.

“[11 pm] My face is all twisted up in a wry expression because I just reread parts of my journal from last summer. By July I’d already gotten the idea for Karateka. I could have finished the damn thing last summer, if I’d worked as hard and steadily as I am now. But who knows? Maybe all that time to mull it over and draw ultimately useless pictures is why it’s going so well now. Maybe if I’d plunged in prematurely I’d have made a mess of it. Certainly, I wouldn’t have shot the film. I guess I can’t really wish to have done anything differently.”

– Jordan Mechner, The Making of Karateka

__________

“Our senses by themselves are dumb. They take in experience, but they need the richness of sifting for a while through our consciousness and through our whole bodies. I call this “composting.” Our bodies are garbage heaps: we collect experience, and from the decomposition of the thrown-out eggshells, spinach leaves, coffee grinds, and old steak bones of our minds come nitrogen, heat, and very fertile soil. Out of this fertile soil bloom our poems and stories.”

– Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones

__________

Time is not the enemy.

Regret can be reframed as, “not yet.”

Anything could be done sooner but would it be done better?

It’s reassuring to focus on what I can do now, not on what I could or should have done before.

Everything needs it’s time to gestate.

I can never be a precocious nineteen-year-old like Jordan, designing my first hit computer game.

I was never a precocious nineteen-year-old. I cannot compare myself.

Can I be a precocious forty-two-year-old?

Does it work like that?

I regret not trying, striving, seeking some purposeful creative life when I was a teenager.

How many opportunities did I miss?

Time for another reframing exercise.

Perhaps some of us require a little longer to bear fruit.

Maybe this is the perfect time to begin.

“I close my eyes
Only for a moment and the moment’s gone
All my dreams
Pass before my eyes with curiosity

Dust in the wind
All they are is dust in the wind.”

– Kansas, Dust in the Wind

__________

“There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep yourself open and aware to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open.”

– Martha Graham, quoted in Martha: The Life and Work of Martha Graham by Agnes de Mille

__________

Ideas do not need to be recorded in any particular way.

Always keep a pen and paper nearby, or your phone, anything where you might record a thought or insight.

You’ll be shocked to realize that things can disappear from your mind completely.

You might struggle to shake loose an unwanted earworm, but if you have an original thought, it is fragile – it will turn to dust if not immediately recognized and swept up into the safety of your notes.

Don’t worry about presentation. Editing is cheap.

It’s simple to organise your notes later.

What is expensive is originality.

Don’t squander the imagination.

Allow yourself to have a casual attitude toward composition.

Better written messily now than perfectly later.

There is no later.

“You are what your deep driving desire is; As your deep driving desire is, so is your will; As your will is so is your deed; As your deed is so is your destiny.”

– The Upanishads, quoted in Noble Purpose: The Joy of Living a Meaningful Life by William Damon

__________

“People are often corrupted by their desire for power or wealth. Has anyone ever been corrupted by their desire to be left alone?”

– Steve Aylett, Heart of the Original: Originality, Creativity, Individuality

__________

Who am I writing to?

Who is reading?

No one else? OK, so I must be talking to myself.

I have the desire to sit alone and write.

I fear that I am wasting my time in self indulgence.

Desire wins out, through my daily practice, but is kept in check by the fear of publishing something nonsensical.

Desire gets me up before dawn.

I begin before fear has had the chance to fully awaken.

Fear is lulled into submission by the pen’s movement.

When the writing stops I ask fear to step forward.

It plays an important role in editing – reminding me to carefully check my work.

Desire is happy to rabbit on in a twisty turny flow of enthusiasms.

This is necessary for the first draft.

But I need fear to read over those words and wince.

Fear can’t stand poor grammar.

Desire provides a task for fear to keep busy with.

I can write everything and anything I desire.

But choosing to share it means I have to do it right.

“February 12, 1992. No wonder I have this nagging sense of meaninglessness: I’m not writing. I’ve been noodling around with this ghost story, but it’s not enough. I was built to work every day, not just now and then.”

– Jordan Mechner, The Making of Prince of Persia

__________

“Well, you’re not going to get an epiphany every day. But sometimes you never get the epiphany unless you have some open space where your mind embodies that moving rest.”

– Jim Harrison, Conversations with Jim Harrison

__________

It’s hard to keep this commitment. Two days of empty space and I feel the joy of this regular practice slipping.

I must move beyond perfectionist thinking: I am not a genius who can reach deep and grab a pithy line or two every day.

I must rely on the more humble talents of commitment, routine and consistency.

Look, it is paying off. I have sat down to write and lo and behold, I’m writing!

I can never go wrong with picking up any book by Jim Harrison. He is an invigorator.

It’s important to discover, recognise and keep close at hand those writers who energise us.

I am not expected to do all this on my own.

But no one can hit ‘publish’ except me.

Even if I cannot find a fitting sentence to end things, it’s still valuable work.

A little intellectual movement in my day to keep the systems in check.