Practice and inspiration
The notion of practice is a funny combination of the mundane and the transcendent. Disciplined meditation practice leads over time to a level of skill that supports the development of wisdom, or insight into what Buddhists call emptiness, the interconnectedness of everything. And long practice of the pragmatic necessities of making a living turns out to be a foundation for writing that goes beyond mundane.
All these years, I thought I was just slogging through various writing jobs, some really interesting and some pretty boring. Turns out it was like physical exercise.
From my client Ming Chew, PT (see our book), I learned about the Kaizen principle, a Japanese business-management concept describing continuous, incremental improvement. One day’s change is pretty much imperceptible. But let some time pass, and the change is enormous. Ming applies this concept to his strength-training program. After 60 days of a tiny gain after each workout, the new you and the old you will be like night and day.
In my case, after twenty years of figuring out how to express other people’s ideas clearly and in their own voice, adapting my style to this newsletter or that magazine, learning to write promotional copy and website content, coming up with story leads under deadline pressure, and perfecting the earnest, slightly priggish tone that seems de rigueur for grant proposals, I find my writing muscles are BIG.
Just as training creates proficiency that lets athletes move into the zone where self and time dissolve into the present, I think writing proficiency propels you into a writing zone. Somehow doing all that heavy lifting opens a channel for expression to emerge that’s both deeper and broader. The transcendence in writing is making a similar inner/outer connection, with the sense of ego dissolving. I don’t know if it creates endorphins like running does, but it sure feels good.