One of the stickiest distinctions from War of Art is that we feel resistance in direct proportion to our love or passion for what we want.
I have always known I am a writer, and every day my status-quo-seeking ego tells me I don’t know what to write for a few minutes before I sit down to let words flow freely as they do when I show up. In retrospect, I wonder why I entertained those butterflies for even a moment, knowing I was headed into my zone.
Today, after 4 years without a vehicle, I am on my way to a dealership to lease a hybrid and start driving for Uber. I have envisioned this for years; generating livable income with 6 hours/day writing and movement built into every day. Today — about :15 from now — I will take the first step into my next professional iteration, at 57.
And I can’t stop watching Netflix movies while I reach the inbox zero I threw in front of my eager self at 5am as a diversion. Half the day is gone — half a day of income-generating — and ego is still bullying.
“Doubt” is nothing but resistance. It’s resisting who I am, my extraordinary constellation of talents and capacities and potential. It’s playing safe and small. In this moment, my vision is bigger, stronger and infinitely more bada$$ than that scaredy-cat ego pushing at my solar plexus.
Thanks, Jonas — for doing what you do, and getting me thinking about the flimsy bully of doubt and the natural state of resistance to change. I’m off to walk to the train, spend a few hours doing paperwork (*gag*) and launch this maybe-someday endeavor ahead of schedule by a week.
Time to leave ego behind, kick a$$ and take names on the road in LA. And doubt|fear|resistance can kiss my white patootie.