It is not because things are difficult that we dare not venture. It is because we dare not venture that they are difficult – Seneca

It’s 9.49 by the time I sit down and flip up my Macbook. A million tabs flash up. Articles, thought pieces, news, facts, fakery.. plenty more saved on Pocket wishfully hoping I’ll trawl through them later on. I skim through a few, open up another tab (revealing another recently obtained Chrome extension to focus the mind in the face of the big dark world wide web). Press the ominous F. Yet the old faithful F book fails on me. Hell, the internet’s down. Now I really have no choice.

You’d think after months of disconnection living in Colombia where wifi and working chargers (mine either mysteriously burned or nicked from a hostel on a weekend away, trapped anyway in the mountains by a hurricane) are a lavish luxury – well, in the places I was staying. In fact the disconnection offered some welcome respite –family and friends had the occasional freak out being off the radar, but you’d have thought I’d have had time by now to sit down and start. No. But hey ho. (I lie, a little bit. For I have made several attempts. First being funny. Then oh so serious. ‘Pick one thing’ they urge you. Perhaps wise. The biggest thing? The name. The hardest part is always the start, I’d keep tell myself. But the real recurring theme? Overthinking, manifested in a potent dose of procrastination.

But what if we were to face, and fight back against this voice in our heads. In his bestselling book The War of Art, Steven Pressfield refers to this ethereal creature as resistance. Recommended by Oxford History Dons to their students to equip them to rub shoulders with the greatest thinkers of all time, the novel narrows down on exactly what is flawed with man (read: the mind). For it is our (limiting) beliefs, our internal narrative, our way we react (or do not) to uncontrollable forces and events, that are the root of all good and bad in the world. Resistance, the sole source of the latter. The rationalisation that we can not be our best, that we are unable, unfit to initiate that endeavour, artistic or otherwise. To follow that unlived life we narrate in our heads. Be it entrepreneurial venture, writing, fitness regimen, learn the guitar, create a song, create ‘art’…

Making bowls out of cocos

“If you find yourself asking yourself (and your friends), “Am I really a writer? Am I really an artist?” chances are you are. The counterfeit innovator is wildly self-confident. The real one is scared to death.”

The greater the fear the more important the work or calling.

Fuelled by this fear of freedom, of the blank canvas, manifested in the internal rationalization of resistance, this voice turns us to vices or “any act that rejects immediate gratification in favor of long-term growth, health or integrity.

Wild assumption here, or perhaps rehashed too many times over already, but I’d say in the midst of instant gratification and technological distractions, resistance against these long term endeavours is an ever greater force to fight.

From 20 odd years of his own procrastination, blind to his own resistance, Pressfield draws some interesting parallels. The artist, like the fundamentalist, battles with his own reason for being. The fear of freedom. The possibilities and potential of your own existence. The reason I wake up early but anxious most mornings. Yet the fuel that can be funnelled into doing ‘the work’ (in short, via discipline and consistency).

Resistance manifests itself under many guises. Support being one of them. One can seek for so long the validation, or advice of others. But how are they to know what’s supposed to come next. Especially with the weird and wacky path I’ve taken.

We must do our work for its own sake, not for fortune or attention or applause.

So what’s the way out? Becoming a professional. Something so simple as ‘doing the work’. Immersing, yet detaching oneself from the ‘art’ within. As a baby that is born of its mother, ultimately it is ‘owned’, created of, not by her. She is simply the vehicle transporting it into the world.

So here is my outlet (exploring ways of) unconventional living to leave the world a better place than we found it. Like my (or anyone’s) life it entails various threads. Jack of all Trades, multipotentialite, whatever spin you want to put on it. But what would be worse than ignoring all those interesting intricacies that intrigue you? Never taking time to zoom out, surely means losing sight of the big picture. And

To labor in the arts for any reason other than love is prostitution.

For us millennials, idealist yet politically apathetic, narcissistic, yet trying to muddle through and make an impact on the world (why are they so obsessed with us), like the reast of the world, we live in a cacophony of contradictions. The way we live, consume, our impact on planet on people. It’s something my unconventional post-graduation path, living and working in Colombia and Copenhagen, has allowed me to explore – how people approach issues, environmental and otherwise in different countries, areas of immensely inspiring ecological biodiversity, but the barriers and shortcuts threatening its protection, in places both ‘developed’ and in the process, the interconnectedness and impact of our wasteful lives, laid strewn on the Pacific playas.

There’ve been uncertainty and difficulties along the way, enjoying the process while making this ‘sustainable’ in itself one of the challenges, both to myself and the status quo. Made up of the hypocrisy, double standards we are all guilty of blindly partaking in/ committing. Led to the slaughterhouse by billion dollar businesses, social norms, and expectations, we are hardly to blame.

It is only as a community, a generation, movement, tribe of diverse people all with same goal that we can change this. In an ever more (dis)connected world, community and collaboration must replace external validation. Whilst accepting/ respecting that we can only improve in any way we can. This article isn’t perfect. But I’m throwing it out there anyway. In Silicon Valley, if you’re not embarrassed, you’ve launched too late.

Never forget: This very moment, we can change our lives. There never was a moment, and never will be, when we are without the power to alter our destiny. This second we can turn the tables on Resistance.

This second, we can sit down and do our work.

This is the war I wish to fight. What’s yours?

 

It is not because things are difficult that we dare not venture. It is because we dare not venture that they are difficult – Seneca

It’s 9.49 by the time I sit down and flip up my Macbook. A million tabs flash up. Articles, thought pieces, news, facts, fakery.. plenty more saved on Pocket wishfully hoping I’ll trawl through them later on. I skim through a few, open up another tab (revealing another recently obtained Chrome extension to focus the mind in the face of the big dark world wide web). Press the ominous F. Yet the old faithful F book fails on me. Hell, the internet’s down. Now I really have no choice.

You’d think after months of disconnection living in Colombia where wifi and working chargers (mine either mysteriously burned or nicked from a hostel on a weekend away, trapped anyway in the mountains by a hurricane) are a lavish luxury – well, in the places I was staying. In fact the disconnection offered some welcome respite –family and friends had the occasional freak out being off the radar, but you’d have thought I’d have had time by now to sit down and start. No. But hey ho. (I lie, a little bit. For I have made several attempts. First being funny. Then oh so serious. ‘Pick one thing’ they urge you. Perhaps wise. The biggest thing? The name. The hardest part is always the start, I’d keep tell myself. But the real recurring theme? Overthinking, manifested in a potent dose of procrastination.

But what if we were to face, and fight back against this voice in our heads. In his bestselling book The War of Art, Steven Pressfield refers to this ethereal creature as resistance. Recommended by Oxford History Dons to their students to equip them to rub shoulders with the greatest thinkers of all time, the novel narrows down on exactly what is flawed with man (read: the mind). For it is our (limiting) beliefs, our internal narrative, our way we react (or do not) to uncontrollable forces and events, that are the root of all good and bad in the world. Resistance, the sole source of the latter. The rationalisation that we can not be our best, that we are unable, unfit to initiate that endeavour, artistic or otherwise. To follow that unlived life we narrate in our heads. Be it entrepreneurial venture, writing, fitness regimen, learn the guitar, create a song, create ‘art’…

Making bowls out of cocos

“If you find yourself asking yourself (and your friends), “Am I really a writer? Am I really an artist?” chances are you are. The counterfeit innovator is wildly self-confident. The real one is scared to death.”

The greater the fear the more important the work or calling.

Fuelled by this fear of freedom, of the blank canvas, manifested in the internal rationalization of resistance, this voice turns us to vices or “any act that rejects immediate gratification in favor of long-term growth, health or integrity.

Wild assumption here, or perhaps rehashed too many times over already, but I’d say in the midst of instant gratification and technological distractions, resistance against these long term endeavours is an ever greater force to fight.

From 20 odd years of his own procrastination, blind to his own resistance, Pressfield draws some interesting parallels. The artist, like the fundamentalist, battles with his own reason for being. The fear of freedom. The possibilities and potential of your own existence. The reason I wake up early but anxious most mornings. Yet the fuel that can be funnelled into doing ‘the work’ (in short, via discipline and consistency).

Resistance manifests itself under many guises. Support being one of them. One can seek for so long the validation, or advice of others. But how are they to know what’s supposed to come next. Especially with the weird and wacky path I’ve taken.

We must do our work for its own sake, not for fortune or attention or applause.

So what’s the way out? Becoming a professional. Something so simple as ‘doing the work’. Immersing, yet detaching oneself from the ‘art’ within. As a baby that is born of its mother, ultimately it is ‘owned’, created of, not by her. She is simply the vehicle transporting it into the world.

So here is my outlet (exploring ways of) unconventional living to leave the world a better place than we found it. Like my (or anyone’s) life it entails various threads. Jack of all Trades, multipotentialite, whatever spin you want to put on it. But what would be worse than ignoring all those interesting intricacies that intrigue you? Never taking time to zoom out, surely means losing sight of the big picture. And

To labor in the arts for any reason other than love is prostitution.

For us millennials, idealist yet politically apathetic, narcissistic, yet trying to muddle through and make an impact on the world (why are they so obsessed with us), like the reast of the world, we live in a cacophony of contradictions. The way we live, consume, our impact on planet on people. It’s something my unconventional post-graduation path, living and working in Colombia and Copenhagen, has allowed me to explore – how people approach issues, environmental and otherwise in different countries, areas of immensely inspiring ecological biodiversity, but the barriers and shortcuts threatening its protection, in places both ‘developed’ and in the process, the interconnectedness and impact of our wasteful lives, laid strewn on the Pacific playas.

There’ve been uncertainty and difficulties along the way, enjoying the process while making this ‘sustainable’ in itself one of the challenges, both to myself and the status quo. Made up of the hypocrisy, double standards we are all guilty of blindly partaking in/ committing. Led to the slaughterhouse by billion dollar businesses, social norms, and expectations, we are hardly to blame.

It is only as a community, a generation, movement, tribe of diverse people all with same goal that we can change this. In an ever more (dis)connected world, community and collaboration must replace external validation. Whilst accepting/ respecting that we can only improve in any way we can. This article isn’t perfect. But I’m throwing it out there anyway. In Silicon Valley, if you’re not embarrassed, you’ve launched too late.

Never forget: This very moment, we can change our lives. There never was a moment, and never will be, when we are without the power to alter our destiny. This second we can turn the tables on Resistance.

This second, we can sit down and do our work.

This is the war I wish to fight. What’s yours?

 

It is not because things are difficult that we dare not venture. It is because we dare not venture that they are difficult – Seneca

It’s 9.49 by the time I sit down and flip up my Macbook. A million tabs flash up. Articles, thought pieces, news, facts, fakery.. plenty more saved on Pocket wishfully hoping I’ll trawl through them later on. I skim through a few, open up another tab (revealing another recently obtained Chrome extension to focus the mind in the face of the big dark world wide web). Press the ominous F. Yet the old faithful F book fails on me. Hell, the internet’s down. Now I really have no choice.

You’d think after months of disconnection living in Colombia where wifi and working chargers (mine either mysteriously burned or nicked from a hostel on a weekend away, trapped anyway in the mountains by a hurricane) are a lavish luxury – well, in the places I was staying. In fact the disconnection offered some welcome respite –family and friends had the occasional freak out being off the radar, but you’d have thought I’d have had time by now to sit down and start. No. But hey ho. (I lie, a little bit. For I have made several attempts. First being funny. Then oh so serious. ‘Pick one thing’ they urge you. Perhaps wise. The biggest thing? The name. The hardest part is always the start, I’d keep tell myself. But the real recurring theme? Overthinking, manifested in a potent dose of procrastination.

But what if we were to face, and fight back against this voice in our heads. In his bestselling book The War of Art, Steven Pressfield refers to this ethereal creature as resistance. Recommended by Oxford History Dons to their students to equip them to rub shoulders with the greatest thinkers of all time, the novel narrows down on exactly what is flawed with man (read: the mind). For it is our (limiting) beliefs, our internal narrative, our way we react (or do not) to uncontrollable forces and events, that are the root of all good and bad in the world. Resistance, the sole source of the latter. The rationalisation that we can not be our best, that we are unable, unfit to initiate that endeavour, artistic or otherwise. To follow that unlived life we narrate in our heads. Be it entrepreneurial venture, writing, fitness regimen, learn the guitar, create a song, create ‘art’…

Making bowls out of cocos

“If you find yourself asking yourself (and your friends), “Am I really a writer? Am I really an artist?” chances are you are. The counterfeit innovator is wildly self-confident. The real one is scared to death.”

The greater the fear the more important the work or calling.

Fuelled by this fear of freedom, of the blank canvas, manifested in the internal rationalization of resistance, this voice turns us to vices or “any act that rejects immediate gratification in favor of long-term growth, health or integrity.

Wild assumption here, or perhaps rehashed too many times over already, but I’d say in the midst of instant gratification and technological distractions, resistance against these long term endeavours is an ever greater force to fight.

From 20 odd years of his own procrastination, blind to his own resistance, Pressfield draws some interesting parallels. The artist, like the fundamentalist, battles with his own reason for being. The fear of freedom. The possibilities and potential of your own existence. The reason I wake up early but anxious most mornings. Yet the fuel that can be funnelled into doing ‘the work’ (in short, via discipline and consistency).

Resistance manifests itself under many guises. Support being one of them. One can seek for so long the validation, or advice of others. But how are they to know what’s supposed to come next. Especially with the weird and wacky path I’ve taken.

We must do our work for its own sake, not for fortune or attention or applause.

So what’s the way out? Becoming a professional. Something so simple as ‘doing the work’. Immersing, yet detaching oneself from the ‘art’ within. As a baby that is born of its mother, ultimately it is ‘owned’, created of, not by her. She is simply the vehicle transporting it into the world.

So here is my outlet (exploring ways of) unconventional living to leave the world a better place than we found it. Like my (or anyone’s) life it entails various threads. Jack of all Trades, multipotentialite, whatever spin you want to put on it. But what would be worse than ignoring all those interesting intricacies that intrigue you? Never taking time to zoom out, surely means losing sight of the big picture. And

To labor in the arts for any reason other than love is prostitution.

For us millennials, idealist yet politically apathetic, narcissistic, yet trying to muddle through and make an impact on the world (why are they so obsessed with us), like the reast of the world, we live in a cacophony of contradictions. The way we live, consume, our impact on planet on people. It’s something my unconventional post-graduation path, living and working in Colombia and Copenhagen, has allowed me to explore – how people approach issues, environmental and otherwise in different countries, areas of immensely inspiring ecological biodiversity, but the barriers and shortcuts threatening its protection, in places both ‘developed’ and in the process, the interconnectedness and impact of our wasteful lives, laid strewn on the Pacific playas.

There’ve been uncertainty and difficulties along the way, enjoying the process while making this ‘sustainable’ in itself one of the challenges, both to myself and the status quo. Made up of the hypocrisy, double standards we are all guilty of blindly partaking in/ committing. Led to the slaughterhouse by billion dollar businesses, social norms, and expectations, we are hardly to blame.

It is only as a community, a generation, movement, tribe of diverse people all with same goal that we can change this. In an ever more (dis)connected world, community and collaboration must replace external validation. Whilst accepting/ respecting that we can only improve in any way we can. This article isn’t perfect. But I’m throwing it out there anyway. In Silicon Valley, if you’re not embarrassed, you’ve launched too late.

Never forget: This very moment, we can change our lives. There never was a moment, and never will be, when we are without the power to alter our destiny. This second we can turn the tables on Resistance.

This second, we can sit down and do our work.

This is the war I wish to fight. What’s yours?

 

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