// BOOK NOTES //

Top quotes from @SPressfield's excellent "The War of Art".

The internal force that discourages creative output = Resistance.

"It’s not the writing part that’s hard. What’s hard is the sitting down to write. What keeps us from sitting down is Resistance."
Which activities elicit Resistance?

- Any act that rejects immediate gratification in favor of long-term growth, health, or integrity

- Any act that derives from our higher nature instead of our lower
The more important an action is to our soul’s evolution, the more Resistance we'll feel toward pursuing it.

Grandiose fantasies are a symptom of Resistance. They’re the sign of an amateur.
When we see others beginning to live their authentic selves, it drives us crazy if we have not lived out our own.

Individuals who are realized in their own lives almost never criticize others.
The artist committing himself to his calling has volunteered for hell, whether he knows it or not.

He will be dining for the duration on a diet of isolation, rejection, self-doubt, despair, ridicule, contempt, and humiliation.
How does the amateur pursue his calling?

- Doesn’t show up every day. Doesn’t show up no matter what. Doesn’t stay on the job all day

- Not committed over the long hall; the stakes for him are illusory

-Over-identifies with his art; doesn’t have a sense of humor about failure
The writer is an infantryman.

He knows that progress is measured in yards of dirt extracted from the enemy one day, one hour, one minute at a time, and paid for in blood.
Resistance outwits the amateur by using his own enthusiasm against him.

Resistance gets us to plunge into a project with an overambitious and unrealistic timetable for its completion. It knows we can’t sustain that level of intensity. We will hit the wall. We will crash.
The professional understands delayed gratification. He is the ant, not the grasshopper; the tortoise, not the hare.

The professional steels himself at the start of a project, reminding himself it is the Iditarod, not the sixty-yard dash. He conserves his energy.
Thick skin means seating your professional consciousness in a place other than your personal ego.

It takes tremendous strength of character to do this. Our deepest instincts run counter to it. Evolution has programmed us to feel rejection in our guts.
The critic hates most that which he would have done himself if he had had the guts.

Envy-driven criticism = the supreme compliment. The professional blows critics off.
The most important thing is to work. Nothing else matters except sitting down every day and trying.

When we sit down day after day and keep grinding, something mysterious starts to happen. A process is set in motion by which, inevitably and infallibly, heaven comes to our aid.
When we sit down each day to do our work, power concentrates around us. The Muse takes note of our dedication.

A crack appears in the membrane. Like the first craze when a chick pecks at the inside of its shell. Eternity has opened a portal into time, and we’re it.
Have you ever wondered why the slang terms for intoxication are so demolition-oriented? Stoned, smashed, hammered, plastered.

It’s because they’re talking about the Ego.
Angels make their home in the Self, while Resistance has its seat in the Ego. The fight is between the two.

When we deliberately alter our consciousness in any way, we’re trying to find the Self. The Self is our deepest being.
The Ego hates the Self. When we seat our consciousness in the Self, we put the ego out of business.

- Ego hates growth. The more awake we become, the less we need ego

- Ego hates it when the awakening writer sits down at the typewriter
Ego hates artists because they are the pathfinders and bearers of the future, because each one dares to “forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race."
Resistance feeds on fear. We experience Resistance as fear. Fear of what?

*Fear That We Will Succeed.*

We fear discovering we're more than we think we are. More than our parents/children/teachers think we are. We fear we possess the talent that our still, small voice tells us.
Each kid comes into this world with a distinct and unique personality.

An identity so set that you can fling stardust and great balls of fire at it and not morph it by one micro-dot. Each kid was who he was.
We come into this world with a specific, personal destiny.

Our job in this lifetime is not to shape ourselves into some ideal we imagine we ought to be, but to find out who we already are and become it.
Most of us define ourselves hierarchically and don’t even know it.

It’s hard not to. School, advertising, and materialist culture drills us from birth to define ourselves by others’ opinions. New York City is too big to function as a hierarchy. So is IBM, or Michigan State.
We thrash around, flashing our badges of status (Hey, how do you like my Lincoln Navigator?) and wondering why nobody gives a shit.

We’ve entered Mass Society. The hierarchy is too big. It doesn’t work anymore
For the artist to define himself hierarchically is fatal.

The artist cannot look to others to validate his efforts or his calling. The artist must operate territorially. He must do his work for its own sake.
The territory vs. hierarchy test:

“If I were the last person on Earth, would I still do it?”

We must do our work for its own sake, not for applause. We're on earth as agents of the Infinite, to bring into existence that which is not yet, but which will be, through us.
"Are you a born writer?

In the end, the question can only be answered by action.

Creative work is not a selfish act or a bid for attention on the part of the actor. It’s a gift to the world and every being in it. Don’t cheat us of your contribution. Give us what you’ve got."
You can follow @will_mannon.
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