| TED SPEAKS...ABOUT STAYING FOCUSED |
| IN THE ZONE |
I have discovered that
land of heart’s desire some creative people refer to as The
Zone. It’s a place I’ve always longed to be, and
I’ve struggled for years hoping to find it. The good news is
that, with the help of pharmaceutical wonder known as Ritalin,
I've learned how to access the writer’s Nexus. The bad news
is that, having entered it, I hate like hell having to wrench
myself out of it every time the "real world" summons
me. I tell you, it takes as much will power for me to abort the
program, now that I have it up and running, as it once took for
me to initiate it.
What a cruel irony, don’t you think? Having to throw cold
water on a fire you’ve labored so long to ignite (rhetorical
"you"), then hoping you can put a match to these wet
coals and rekindle them tomorrow. I guess that conflict comes
with the territory. Somehow, I manage. I don’t know how, but
I do. Makes me a little crazy though. Then again, I’m
already crazy. If I weren’t, I wouldn’t be pouring so
much time and energy into a project I’m under no obligation,
contractual or otherwise, to tackle, much less complete.
| "Risking his all for a dream only he can see."—Million Dollar Baby |
You psyche yourself into
believing that a creative enterprise is more crucial to your
emotional and spiritual fulfilment than your leisure time, more
imperative than any number of "practical" activities
you could be engaged in, or should be engaged in, at any given
time. You muster the discipline and pit bull tenacity to make
your vision (project, career) the primary driving force in your
daily life, your reason for being. You know full well that this
quantum leap of faith is what distinguishes true passion from
stone cold compliance (like clocking into work everyday), which
is a simpler and far less risky path to follow.
Because compliance is all the world requires of you. Compliance
is all you really need to see you from one day to the next.
You also realize that nothing short of a total commitment to this
vision of yours will take you any further than your back yard.
Giving less than 100% of yourself is mere dabbling, something
almost everyone does at one time or another. Not that
there’s anything wrong with that, mind you. Dabbling (call
it a "hobby") is a sane and respectable balance between
enthusiasm and survival, between passion and compliance, between
treading water and bucking the currents. If you want to play it
safe, then you know better than to invest more of yourself than
you can afford to lose when circumstances derail your plans. Nor
should you upset other people's equilibrium by offering them more
than what they expect from you. By assigning the creative act a
low priority—by making your heart’s desire your
"step-child"—your are playing within the practical
framework that modern life has imposed on you.
HOWEVER...the moment you decide that you are beyond harmless
tinkering, the moment you step outside that safety net of
complacency and indifference—in other words, once you tell
yourself that what you’re doing truly matters—then you
have wedded yourself to a project/vision that demands more from
you than the reasonable, live-by-the-numbers template will allow.
Herein lies the conundrum:
.........................................a) The world won’t leave you
alone long enough to finish what you started;
........................................ b) The project you started
won’t leave you in peace until you finish it.
For years, I’ve wrestled against inertia and
inattentiveness, tried to persuade myself that the work I’d
chosen was significant, urgent, worthy of my undivided devotion.
I prayed for a pharmaceutical catalyst that would jump start the
creative process. Ever since my doctor has put me on a daily
regimen of Ritalin, I’ve been able to muster, not just the
faith, but the internal momentum to overthrow the demons that
have kept my creative mind in bondage most of my life. Now that
I’m finally beginning to pull myself into the
picture—now that I’m finally on a roll—how can I
suffer myself to apply the brakes every damned time a more
pressing situation calls me away from what I’m working on?
Simple! I reverse the very same argument I used to launch this
personal project in the first place: I tell myself that this work
I’m doing is really NOT that imperative...not in the way
going to work or running errands or taking care of personal
business is imperative. I console myself with the fact that the
world won’t come to an end if I don’t finish a project
today, or at least take a gratifying whack out of it. That's the
way a rational, well balanced person is supposed to handle a
conflict. I mean, isn’t that what the self-help manuals are
constantly preaching? I may not have achieved much in my
three-score years on this Earth, but I've soaked up more than my
share of popular wisdom:
> Compromise.
> Prioritize.
> Everything in good time.
> Tomorrow’s another day.
> Don’t be so hard on yourself.
> Be all that you can be....but don't go overboard.
> Follow your dream...only watch where you're going.
> Moderation in all things...unless it’s something you neither enjoy nor believe in.
> And my favorite: Nothing is THAT important.
The problem with this
ideology is that if you declare a project "not that
important" today, it'll seem even less
important...especially once the sun rises and you realize that
the world hasn't come to an end. Ya wanna tell me where
you’re supposed to find the time or the motivation to tackle
something "unimportant", especially when you already
have more than enough important responsibilities to occupy you on
any given day? How do you muster enthusiasm for a project
you’ve already talked yourself out of believing in when you
do find the time? At what point does something suddenly become
important?
Practical logic dictates that if you can’t learn to drop
what you’re doing when other matters or other people
(usually other people) force you out of your Zone, you will
eventually drive yourself crazy, and everyone else as well.
Personal experience, however, has shown me that:
a) If a project isn’t important enough to drive me crazy when I put it down, isn’t worth starting;
b) A project not worth starting isn't worth caring about;
c) To labor on a project I don't care about is a waste of my time;
d) Failing to complete a project I do care about is a waste of my talent, and patience;
e) The longer I’m forced to forego what I love doing, the easier it becomes to put it off tomorrow.
f) The less I miss it = the less I love it = the less I believe in what I'm doing = the less anything matters.
g) And so it goes down that slippery slope to nowhere with which I’m all too familiar.
If there’s a middle
ground between indifference and obsession, I haven’t found
it.
The secret to reconciling these conflicts may lie in how well one
masters the fine art of lying to oneself, e.g. toggling ones
personal convictions on again, off again:
What I’m doing matters - doesn’t matter...important -
not important...loves me - loves me not...Is I is - Is I
ain’t?...matters - doesn’t matter...and
so on. Sorta the way you would work the TV remote.
Whatever convoluted horse poop this formula entails, I fear I may
have gotten the hang of it. It’s what you might call a
rational response to an irrational world. It's how presumably
sane, well adjusted people resolve their conflicts...
...While all the writers, visionaries, creative artists and misfits in the world---people crazier and more dedicated than myself---have long since gone on to make something of their lives.
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