Perhaps the greatest thing we love about making art is that it commands the utmost out of us. When we commit fully, we forget about ourselves. And thus, we waste no energy on such abstract matters as success, money, recognition, or even goals. All our attention, all our effort, is swiftly and most efficiently directed towards learning and creating. Even the idea of accumulating knowledge or skill matters little, for the process of creation pushes us above that simplistic dimension. Everything serves the moment. And in so doing, one’s life becomes magically effective. It also becomes more generous and joyful — the forgetting of what has happened in the past and what might happen in the future brings great peace.
All too often, our thoughts dominate us. Modern society especially idolizes cerebral activity. It worships images and words, even when they prove, as they most often do, to be completely illusive or false. That is such a world most of us live in; all of us competing, comparing, judging ourselves and others all due to our deep and often un-confronted insecurity. Sometimes an obsession with thinking and living in that manner leads not only to great unhappiness but also mental illness.
Thinking, in its right place, is useful. Knowledge and skills acquired have practical application for survival in the physical universe. But thinking all the time, incessantly, is counterproductive if not harmful. Thoughts, when self-serving, puts the mind in obstruction to being and in the way of creating. I know from personal experience and deep inquiry, that I’m most ineffective and inefficient when I allow the mind to dominate the present moment. And when I have done so in my craft, the results are always less than spectacular.
The critical mind that measures, condemns and justifies prevents flow. Since all thoughts are past registrations — thinking is essentially a set of prior accumulations of information, opinions and ideas — our prejudices stop us from being absolutely true and sensitive to what is actually and always new, that which sits directly in front of us right here, right now. Both life and our art requires our fullest capacity. Only when we forget the self and lose the desire to compete, judge, or complain can our minds truly operate in a manner that is free, fresh and alive. When the mind is quiet and liberated from distraction or prejudice, we find clarity and arrive at truth.
So we must ask, how serious are we about our craft? How serious are we about ourselves? Because if we are serious about our work and about who we are as human beings, we move in a direction that is conducive to real living — one of attentiveness and sensitivity. It means looking at life and our work as if we’re seeing with fresh clear eyes rather than “seeing through glass darkly.” Very few people on this planet are truly serious about living. They prefer to view the world thru coloured lenses, choosing to live for pleasure or in avoidance of pain.
Most of us live dominated by some degree of psychological fear, whether we are conscious of it or not. Even those who lively strictly, such as those who abide by the customs or practices dictated by established institutions are not so serious about life despite such apparent stoicism and devotion. Strict guidelines for work, play and family and devout conservatism is not the kind of seriousness we’re talking about here. Instead, we are talking about the kind of discipline that requires us to reject all conditioning, to unlearn what has been learned. The artist inherently knows this and he knows that he cannot follow another person’s way, regardless of their authority or its tempting path to material success. He knows it takes great personal responsibility to actually live free, unburdened by education or propaganda. He must find and live his own journey for truth because truth is not so easily found in books, rituals or authority figures.
Sometimes, as a teacher, I meet a student who wants answers, but in truth what he wants is results. What is forgotten, or clearly not realized, is that knowledge in itself is fairly useless (as proven by the fact that almost everything and anything can be found today on the internet). Even the mental grasp and understanding of something has limited usage. It is only when we explore — such as when we are free to play — can we possibly turn such mental, verbal information into something real, something experiential, something possibly exciting. Only then is there hope of realization. Until we realize the truth of something, we can’t truly understand it. This is why there is such failing in the entire education system, both inside brick and mortar institutions and at online schools. Knowledge is given, but know-how is not because know-how must be preceded by knowing why. And the only way to learn about the “why” is to look slowly, deeply and attentively at our work and more importantly, at ourselves. This requires both patience and the ability to ignore our mind’s propensity to tell us to hurry up and succeed. If there’s anything I’ve learned about learning is that information alone has no staying power. It’s bound to be ignored or forgotten.
It may not be easy but it is simple. If we persist, if we live generously in the moment — which means to be 100% attentive — then all things will work themselves out. Then maybe our thoughts can leave us alone (at least more often) and let other parts of our mind and the rest of our entire being do their proper jobs. The human being is an amazing thing. Let’s not waste it in the pursuit of nonsense. Living and learning (which is what discipline means) is the vision, rather than ambitiousness. Even goals are just temporary targets, placeholders to keep us moving forward. We only have to make sure we’re on the right path which means, of course, that we must know where we are now. Making art is a great way to finding out that truth, ironically, by forgetting; we find ourselves by foregoing our obsession for personal security. And the search for truth, like virtue, is its own reward.