The Fruits of a Writer’s Tree
On Embracing the Intrinsically-motivated Life
I’ve been considering the old Bhagavad-Gita aphorism quite a bit lately:
“You have a right to perform your prescribed duties, but you are not entitled to the fruits of your actions.”
Most of us have translated this a second time to say, “You have a right to your labor, but not the fruits of your labor.”
And it’s true. Well, it’s true if you know it to be true (i.e., thinking makes it so).
If you see the world from a telos — ultimate outcome — driven perspective, then you may find the idea of work for work’s sake to be laughably insane. So I say again — thinking makes it so …
Except we’re not thinking.
The Problem
Beyond the “present awareness” prophets who are either labeled as scam artists or idolized more than the Buddha, we have limited paradigms to test the validity of the Bhagavad-Gita quote. By paradigm, I mean that there are limited role models and ways of acting out an intrinsically-motivated life that does not throw us into the woo-woo deep end.
Not only has our lust for practical content superseded our need for reflective content (or, you know, just sitting with our thoughts), but inherent in the design of all social media sites is a belief that “the fruit is the point.”* No matter how many times I write in my damn gratitude journals, “I am grateful for the work. I am grateful for the work. I am grateful for the work,” I would be lying if I said I don’t find positive reception toward my creative work sweeter than a freshly picked peach.
I think Steven Pressfield, the author of The War of Art, is one of the few writers who embody this Gita quote truly (though I’m basing this off his anecdotal writing habits in the book). The reason I believe it’s so difficult to find examples like him is that … you won’t find them online.
Those who live the intrinsically-motivated life don’t play the game of digital status (or they don’t keep score if they do play). They will not catch your eye with obnoxious titles and borderline-falsely advertised headlines. They live quiet lives and poke their heads out of a dirt hole once a year to give us some idea of how many weeks are left of winter: Something like that.
- Maybe they are social but they call it spending time with friends — not networking.
- Maybe they are chefs but their meals are captured by their eyes, nose, and mouths — not their phones.
- Maybe they have wealth but they teach only those who care enough to ask — not the whole internet.
Their good moments are savored when they arise and then forgotten like the fading trail of a plane. Their thoughts percolate: they brew, they simmer, they ferment. They are patient. They play the long game. They respect the canon (literary or otherwise). And they work.
But why do they work?
Why would they work?
Without the guarantee of a good harvest, why bother?
The Solution
Why bother? Because … there’s a little secret shared between those in the know. I can tell you. I can even write it clear and short, but unless you separate yourself from your end-driven, future-focused mindset, it will look the same as every other tidbit of advice.
Ready for it?
The fruit will leave you more hungry than before; the labor will leave you satisfied in proportion to your effort.
*The glaring parallel here relates to Adam, the apple, and the fall of man. Digital popularity is the new “pride before the fall.”
